Cultivating Laughter and a Sense of Humor (Part II)
What prompted this two-part post about laughter and humor? As strange as it might seem, it all began in a dental chair. Several weeks ago, while I was waiting for the Novocain to kick in, I serendipitously asked my dentist to describe his sense of humor.
You need the full picture here. My dentist, Dr. Andrew Reingold, is an utterly charming, 40-year-old, short man with a ponytail six-inches long. On my visit he was also wearing a white hazmat suit, a surgical mask, a plastic face shield, and a pair of glasses with a dental loupe sitting on top of his receding hairline. We’ve known each other for years. Since I was last in his chair, his first child was born. While he was thrilled to share the good news with me, he was even happier to reply to my question about humor.
Dr. Ever-lasting Smile (the actual name of his dental practice) told me since he was a young boy, he has loved to draw. One day years ago he decided to try his hand at creating comics. As he felt something was lacking in what he produced he decided the answer was to study comedy. He divulged that he even attempted stand-up comedy to learn more about the craft, however, found he lacked real talent. “I’m not a performer and I found out the hard way. I was terrible.” His humor was too subtle, he readily admitted.
I respected that my dentist was so honest in his self-evaluation. Earlier he mentioned that he had nicknamed his son “Ringo Reingold” before he was born. He beamed at the thought, then giggled when he explained, “I’d figured no one would ever forget his name.” In response, I produced a lopsided smile and forced out a chortle. Subtle, indeed.
That said, my dentist knows a lot about humor and comedy. First, we discussed the difference between the two terms which are often used interchangeably. According to Andrew, humor is the ability to make people laugh whereas comedy is something formal performed in front of an audience. He gave me good examples of the different comedic forms of expression, too.
“All you have to do is look at an episode of the sitcom Seinfeld. You’ve heard of situation comedy, right?” I hadn’t. So he briefly explained the four main characters in the show and the form of comedy they each represented: Seinfeld exemplified Situation comedy as he was always getting himself into absurd situations; Kramer was Physical comedy which was reflected by his slapstick antics and outlandish slide into a room; George demonstrated Comedy of errors through his misinterpretations of situations which always ended in chaos; and finally, Elaine whose brutal honesty and neurotic behavior based on fixations and biases characterized Comedy of manners, à la Jack Benny.
We were really getting into it when Dr. Reingold caught himself and said, “I’d like to talk about humor and comedy all day long, but I have a job to do.” The fun was over.
With the humor mini tutorial under my belt, I was ready to attack the topic. After some Google searching, I uncovered that while humor has been around as long as there’s been humanity, its study as a serious field of expertise is relatively new, dating back to the ‘80s. The problem? According to Rod Martin, author of The Psychology of Humor, “Humor Research is seen as a non-serious topic.” That struck me as funny. Does that mean the humor research gets no respect, as the loveable comedian Rodney Dangerfield might have proclaimed with a snicker?
In Martin’s article he enumerated the many physical, psychological, and social benefits of laughter and humor we discussed last week. He rightfully claimed that funny people derive admiration and positive attention from others. Who does not want to be around someone who is amusing and makes you laugh?
So, I wondered, who are the funny people in my life who might be willing to contribute to this post? Anthony Giglio’s name immediately popped into my head. Anthony is a sommelier, wine writer, and speaker who recently started a successful business hosting daily curated virtual wine tastings. But, more to the point, he is an ace storyteller who always cracks me up with his clever one-liners. Next was Willson Powell, my Southern gentleman friend whose regional humor and skill as a raconteur never fail to put a “polite lady” smile on my face.
Starting with my goombah Anthony, here is how he replied to my questions in bold. By the way, the photo of this week’s post is of Anthony and his father, Anthony James, who he affectionately refers to as the “King Jokester.”
Were you always this funny? If not, how did you acquire the skill?
I can remember being told in kindergarten by one of my classmates that I was a 'cut up' -- which was local parlance for someone always quipping funny lines. I grew up surrounded by competitive storytellers, from my gossipy grandmother who lived in the apartment above ours to my mother and her coffee-and-card-party klatch around my kitchen table on Friday nights, to my father and his cronies, always outdoing each other with hyperbolic bravado. And in between were various relatives and neighbors, many of whom had perfect comic timing.
I've been told in Italy that Napoletani are the storytellers of Italy, and that's the region to which I can trace back all eight of my great-grandparents. So, I think I learned to tell stories first through osmosis, and then learned comic timing from my father, who always — and remains at 82 — the center of gravity when he's in a room. He is charming and handsome (full head of white hair with Elvis-style sideburns, olive skin and bright blue eyes), and funny, really funny. My wife, Toni, says that "his 1970s Dad humor" is completely inappropriate. Which is exactly what makes him funny to people of all ages. I get it that I can't tell the jokes that my father tells and get away with it, but I won't lie: I like a good old-fashioned, well-timed filthy joke as much as the next 1970s dad.
What is the power of humor in your daily life?
For me, I try to be completely aware of what's appropriate (and my 15- and 17-year-old kids will take me down whenever I lose my compass!). It's more about trying to be witty or ironic. After I told my story at The Moth ("Listen Here, Fancy Pants!"), the headliner that night, the actor and comedian Richard Kind, told me afterward that I should do stand-up comedy because I had perfect timing. I have no desire to do stand-up comedy, but I was thrilled by the compliment. In my daily life I would say that my reward, or validation, is hearing my kids deliver wonderfully funny one-liners or quips with their friends, or, even better, hurl a grenade at me or my wife that sets the whole house laughing.
My wife and I just celebrated our 21st anniversary (though we know each other much longer), and one of my greatest joys is still having the ability to reduce her to tears of laughter with a quip that just happens without thinking. We're in a conversation, one sentence and thought leads to another, and somehow, I see an opening for sarcasm or irony or humor and it's out without any rehearsing. Still, all these years later when Toni collapses into laughter, I'm surprised, and then I'm delighted.
Is there any danger in being so funny?
When I was young, it was tricky because some of my teachers 'got it' and embraced my humor, while others found me distracting and (rightly) disruptive. I had to learn to balance the when and where it's appropriate, thanks to great advice from some of the teachers who understood me. Overall, I think that some people might assume I'm just a funny guy if I don't back it up with serious conversation. In that department, I am not lacking in my ability to talk, and talk, and talk.
When you're in Italy (or any other countries you’ve traveled to), have you noticed that humor differs?
In English-speaking countries, no — not much; of course, humor is certainly subjective and intrinsically anchored to culture, but in my experience, it's also universal. In Italy, France, Germany and Spain, countries I visit often because of work and where translation comes into play, I have connected with many people to the point of belly-laughing. But where I don't speak the language it takes a co-pilot who translates idiomatic expressions brilliantly to get there. I'm pretty fluent in Italian, and easily take down my wife's cousins when I'm there, but I like to say I only speak wine French, restaurant kitchen Spanish and Mel Brooks German, but I've managed to have great laughs with so many people, even if we don't have a translator, thanks to a deadpan gesture, a wide-eyed facial expression, or even a wink. Funny is everywhere.
That’s an understatement that funny is everywhere. While universal, humor differs across countries and across even regions within a county. Southern humor has always attracted me like a moth to light. Wanting to better understand the regional aspect of being funny, I cajoled Willson Powell into being my teacher.
Here is Willson’s explanation—each reply an amusing mini-story in itself— on what makes Southern humor unique:
What is the basis of Southern humor?
The Irish, Scottish, Anglo tradition of storytelling.
What are your three favorite expressions?
“You can marry more money in five minutes than you can make in a lifetime.”
“Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy the conditions under which it is most likely to occur.”
“She said it with the utter conviction of the utterly uninformed!”
Is there any danger in a Northerner trying to pull off Southern humor?
Southern neighbor (bringing a casserole) visiting new Northern next-door-neighbor: “Where y’all from?” Northern neighbor: “We’re from a place that does not end a sentence in a preposition.” Southern neighbor: “I’m so sorry, where are you all from, Bitch?”
Does Southern humor travel well? In other countries?
I think it can if you choose correctly. For example, How many Southerners does it take to change a lightbulb? --- Three --- One to hold the ladder, one to change the bulb and one to talk about just how good that old bulb was.
I called upon Willson’s wife, Karen Brosius—a super sophisticated executive from the East Coast who now heads the international business department at the University of South Carolina—to corroborate her husband’s theories.
What is the basis of Southern humor?
Southern humor comes from a rocking-chair culture accompanied by an ever-so-slight breeze. So much of it comes from the time people spend together on the porch - any porch will do.
Are there other regional humors which compete with the one from the South?
Southern humor can be very subtle, like a sideways glance, accompanied by a very strong sense of place. Not sure this kind of cohesion exists elsewhere -- well, maybe Maine.
What are some of your favorite expressions?
I'd tickle many a New York friend when we'd all be heading home after a nice evening. I'd bid farewell with a lil ole "Nighty-night!"
Is there any danger in a Northerner trying to pull off Southern humor?
I'd say a Northerner attempting Southern humor -- may I add sincerely attempting -- would definitely be endearing. It means they've been listening.
Does Southern humor travel well?
In other countries? Well, for many, the North is another country.
On the topic of humor across cultures, I did a little digging. According to Leap, a British marketing and branding firm with an international clientele, much of what we find funny is socially ingrained. “Our humor is deeply rooted in our nationhood, our shared view of the world, and the norms that are so familiar to us, but so foreign to others.” However, Leap claims that there are comedic elements that cross borders. He says that you can tap into a universal need to laugh by telling something which is benign and captures the element of surprise.
To continue this discussion of how humor travels, I queried Paddy Nichols, a British travel expert and surprisingly also an olive oil producer who lives in the South of France. “Our British humor ranges from dry, self-deprecating, and ironic to slapstick or downright naughty (from Monty Python to Benny Hill). The French seem to love comedians like Mr. Bean, (who frankly I don’t get).” When I read this reply, I said to myself this explains why the French also love Jerry Lewis and why they awarded him the Legion of Honor in 2006!
Paddy continued, “French humor to me is generally more ‘coquin’ - (sexist and salacious, misogynistic too). Coluche in the 70’s was a phenomenon, still much-loved today. Then ‘stand up’ shows have become more popular and political humor has become more acceptable. There are a few excellent comedians in France of Arab origins. Gad Elmaleh, a Moroccan from Casablanca, is enormously popular.“ As odd as that might seem, Paddy reminded me that France’s population is now at almost 9% Muslim.
While humor can be a powerful tool, it can also be destructive. Here’s what wine marketer Lila gault had to say on the matter. “I do know it’s important to have a sense of humor, in order to keep one’s ego in check. If one can’t laugh at oneself, one is a pretty poor partner, friend, parent etc. However, using humor inappropriately is generally toxic. Laughing at - instead of with - someone is not just bad manners. It’s a cheap shot, a painful low blow, an act of cruelty. Fat shaming, for example, which is what I was doing with that woman who married us, is always inexcusable.”
Lila was referring to a story of the woman she had engaged over the phone to perform a surprise wedding for her and her now husband during a joint family vacation. When the lady climbed out of her car, everyone thought it was a clown hired for Lila’s grandson’s birthday. While I still think the story is funny, as it has the element of surprise, Lila is right: it was not “benign.” It was laughter generated at the expense of someone else.
There are many different forms of humor used around the world: satire, sarcasm, irony, parody, self-deprecating and even scatological, to name a few. Using them wisely to produce the desired effect is another issue. These past two posts have highlighted the myriad of positive benefits of laughter and humor. But let’s not forget (at the risk of sounding like your mother) that the flip side of the coin exists too. Failed humor, on the other hand, can be destructive resulting in not only bruised egos but also broken friendships.
To end on a more positive note, your homework assignment is to listen to Anthony Giglio’s segment on the Moth, ("Listen Here, Fancy Pants!". I dare you to not laugh at this story.