Reclaiming Childhood through Laughter

As I’ve grown older, I’ve become increasingly less mature.

For example, the first time I read the fifth Harry Potter book, I thought Ron and Harry were kind of stupid, but five years later, I found them to be very relatable. And as a kid, I didn’t get what was so funny about Veggietales. Now, I think Veggietales is the most hilarious thing in the world–purely because it often doesn’t make any sense. (If you don’t believe Veggietales is nonsensical, just watch this clip about Louis the Short-Necked Giraffe. The moral of the story, in the words of my brother, is “You’re never going to fit in, so just go buy a cheeseburger.” How brilliant is that?)

But back to where I’m going with this. For me, the last semester has been about rediscovering the power of laughter in a completely new setting. Some of my favorite high school memories are about times I laughed really hard at  absurd things–like inside jokes with my little sister about the monkeys stealing all our granola bars. As a college student, I’ve found similar moments through kids I met at Centro Latino and some of my crazy new friends.

This semester, I had the opportunity to volunteer at the Centro Latino through my Advanced Spanish Conversation class. One of the programs I got to participate in was the after-school program, for which you basically get school credit to play with little kids. Playing with kids at the Centro was an incredibly fun experience for me, because I got to take a break and act like I was a kid again. And trust me, after going to class, doing homework, working on a research project, and writing newspaper articles, you need that break.

I got to play hide-and-seek, go to the park, and talk to kids in Spanish. One time, I played pretend with a girl named Jennifer, who told me that she was the teacher and I was the student. She informed me that I wasn’t allowed to talk without raising my hand, but I thought this was rather unfair, and so I exclaimed “¿Por qué?” many times and ended up with about 500 hours of detention. We both laughed really hard. Moments like this left me inspired, and I returned to my family over Thanksgiving break even sillier. My little sister and I built an epic pillow fort, sent random people on MLIA missions, and ninja-attacked my brother.

My college friends have also made me laugh when I really needed it–even through the not-so-fun experiences, like when my roommate’s car got stuck in front of Gillett, blocking the road and leaving us stranded without food, just as Paige’s favorite song came on the radio (“NO! Tonight is NOT going to be a good night!”). Of course, there have also been the less stressful, lighter moments, like when my friend told me the elaborate, vivid story about my roommate’s painting, which apparently depicts a Phoenix who was shocked by lightning through a power line and then reborn. In return for the laughs, I have introduced him to MLIA.

In the end, these moments of laughter have a life-giving power for me, and I can’t imagine my life without all the people who make me laugh. I like how Pablo Neruda describes laughter:

“No me quites tu risa. … Si de pronto ves que mi sangre mancha las piedras de la calle, ríe, porque tu risa será para mis manos como una espada fresca.”

Or in English:

“Don’t take from me your laughter. … If suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword.”

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~ by catnewhouse on December 16, 2009.