Rachael was the last to leave the actual nest. One younger sister beat her out the door and the rest were gone long ago. I loved the time we got with each other, especially those last years. It gave me a chance to really savor her sweet personality before lifes rigors toughened her up. An added benefit was that I got an unvarnished look at female thinking. They’re not so different than us guys. At the same time, the gulf is vast and they could well have been designed for and on a different planet!

It all adds up nicely with that delightful/frightening/predictable/off the wall consistency that drives people in directions they wouldn’t go on their own.

For me, it works.

She had friends over from time to time for overnighters or just evening forays into school study or nutty recreation. They laughed pretty hard. Sometimes whatever set them off was funny just because they thought it was.

I loved when she had friends over because they were such good people and the fun they had was harmlessly epic.

Rachael told me that if she couldn’t have tear in the eyes laughter with her friends, it would be something to lament.

As hard as they laughed, they were amateurs compared to me when I got with my best friend. There were times when we were laughing so hard that between gasps of air he’d beg me to stop talking for fear that he couldn’t get his breath. I know the feeling.

And it is medicinal. It really is good for you.

So now it’s my habit to look for the humour. It isn’t my place to be a clown or entertainer, but it’s just better to detect the lighter side if there is one. Occasionally I wake up from sleep laughing : )

It rejuvenates.

But it also helps in the creation of good art. This, because to portray beauty, which is my preference, means to host beauty. It comes where it’s wanted. Beauty likes peace, joy, and pleasantness.

All those things co-reside with a healthy sense of humour in my opinion. Water the flowers that you want to grow.

The alternative is to get bitter, grow rage, stumble, or find fault.

I knew my children were coming of age when they stopped and said, “but that means….” and smiled at the realized irony when I’d say, “only an IDIOT would call people names!”

When that glorious day came, they began to listen to other things I said in case I was embedding thoughts in other sayings. Smart plan!

Isn’t that what art is? It’s a conversation you have. It has to have meaning, and that meaning is understood viscerally. Once you’re aware that a language is being spoken, and you’ve learned a few words, communication begins. And even when the subject has no particularly humorous purpose, painting with a sunny disposition can only make for a better outcome.

I vote for cultivating a decent sense of humor. Nothing that saps dignity or degrades. Just good clean joyous celebration of the peculiar life you to have.