Pat Taub
Did you know it’s believed that a sense of humor can increase your life span?
Thoughtful aging tends to stress diet and exercise, having a sense of purpose and close, nurturing relationships while frequently overlooking the benefits of humor. I’m not referring to humor which is mean-spirited, but humor used to alleviate frustration with our aging bodies and the world at large. My days go better when I lighten up and restrain from bemoaning my aging body. Instead I treat it with affection. I joke about my creaky arthritic knee, my expanding “character lines” and repeatedly forgetting where l put down my phone.
When I can find the humor in personal obstacles or hang out with friends who enjoy witty banter, I’m rewarded with all those happy endorphins laughter brings on. Humor, as Norman Cousins reports in his memoir, Anatomy of an Illness, can even help one manage a serious illness. Cousins maintains that watching Marx Brothers films from his hospital bed was instrumental to his recovery.
Groucho never fails to make me laugh.
At 98 the late Diana Athill wrote Alive, Alive, Oh, a memoir laced with wit and joie de vive. Athill drew on her storehouse of hilarious memories to amuse herself and brighten her day. She was particularly fond of recalling high times with former lovers. Playful memories offered sustence when her mobility became limited.
The formidable British editor and memoirist, Diana Athill, known for her sense of humor
Nora Ephron’s memoir, I Feel Bad About My Neck, is a great example of how humor can bring a smile. Ephron transforms some of the unwelcome signs of aging, like a wrinkly neck, into laughable moments. On the occasion she was unhappy with her saggy, no longer firm body, she wrote:
“Oh, how I regret not having worn a bikini for the entire year I was twenty-six. If anyone young is reading this, go, right this minute, put on a bikini, and don’t take it off until you’re thirty-four.”
Nora Ephron covering up her wrinkled neck
Judith Viorst has won a following with her books that offer humorous takes on the fifties, sixties, seventies, and eighties and most recently, the nineties. Here’s a favorite poem of mine from Viorst’s I’m Too Young to be Seventy:
No lines on my face.
No gray in my hair.
No stains on my clothes where I spilled
In the course of one of my fork-to-mouth
Incomplete passes
No dust on the tables.
No spots on the rugs.
I’m absolutely thrilled
At how perfect the world becomes
When I take off my glasses.
Agnes Varda, the recently deceased French filmmaker, specialized in whimsical imagery both on and off camera. Her movie, “The Beaches of Agnes,” a cinematic self-portrayal she made after turning 80, shows Agnes the director creating madcap beach scenes and, over breakfast with her son, poking holes in her pancake to create a mask she plasters to her face. Varda reminds us of the joy that flows when humor plays a central role in one’s life.
The ever playful Agnes Varda at an award ceremony for “Beaches of Agnes”
If you’re lucky enough to have young grandchildren or a niece or nephew, than play and laughter are at your fingertips. Kids eat up being wacky. They will awaken your inner mischief-maker.
Being silly with the grandkids is a surefire way to add humor to one’s life
Humor can go a long ways towards allaying political despair, like watching a laugh-aloud satirical film such as “Jo Jo Rabbit” or episodes of “I Love Lucy.” To alleviate insomnia I frequently re-read favorite comic writers from Fierce Pajamas: Humor Writing from The New Yorker.
