Today is the anniversary of the loss of my granddaughter. One of many difficult days of late. But today, I will choose to remember her laugh. She was always smiling and laughing. My silly “Noodle.” I have a video of her, my daughter and I having dinner in NYC. They laughed so hard, my daughter cried and both were literally choking. I watched it this morning so I could hear her laugh again. And to remind myself. Still here. Still laughing.
I heard this quote recently while watching the AFI tribute to Eddie Murphy:
“Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.”
The quote was read by Judge Reinhold, but naturally my first thought wasn’t about the quote.
My first thought was, “Eddie Murphy still owes me $3 for pizza.”
Long story. (We were all chipping in $3 each for pizza. I put in $6. I saw him eat some!)
Back in the early 1980s, my sister and I spent some time with Eddie and his entourage. She was friends with one of his crew. He invited us over to the house they were renting on Sunset Blvd. in Beverly Hills during my first trip to LA. I believe they were there filming The Golden Child. As I recall, he might have done a set that night at the Comedy Store. At one point Eddie, (I believe while waiting to cross Sunset heading to a spot called Carlos & Charlie’s, where we entered through the back door.) referred to us as “the sad sisters.” Probably because we weren’t falling all over ourselves like starstruck groupies. I never got the whole celebrity thing. You have a talent that I appreciate. Maybe even a gift. (All of us have one! We just may never discover it.) You have a career that is different and pays well. You’re still human and your s%*t still stinks. We were happy to be there, (I was an SNL & comedy fan) but we weren’t exactly auditioning for the role of Screaming Fan Number Three. Nor we were interested in becoming notches in anyone’s belt! Once that was established, the visit shortened, but that is a story for another day. Or not.
To be fair, he did say something I’ve never forgotten.
He looked at me and said, “You’re funny.” (Probably because I had a snappy come-back from the sad sisters comment. I was probably thinking, “your teeth are small.”)
Honestly, I’ll take that over an autograph any day. Never quite understood the whole autograph thing. The only thing I want anyone to sign for me is a check!
But that quote stuck with me.
“Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.”
The older I get, the more I realize how true that is.
I’ve always been a huge fan of laughter.
My goal with this blog has never been simply to share information. There are plenty of people doing that. My goal has been to share things I’ve learned in a way that makes people laugh.
Why?
Because people remember funny.
People forget where they put their keys, why they walked into a room, and what they ate yesterday. Yet somehow, they can perfectly retell a joke they heard twenty years ago at a backyard barbecue.
Humor sticks.
Laughter sticks.
Connection sticks.
That’s why I write the way I do.
Every night before bed, I watch something funny. A stand-up special. An episode of Seinfeld. Curb Your Enthusiasm. Honestly, the title Curb Your Enthusiasm makes me laugh before the show even starts.
Then Larry David appears, Leon starts freestyling life advice, Jeff gets caught in another ridiculous lie, and Susie begins screaming at everyone within a fifty-foot radius.
It’s therapy.
Cheaper than therapy, actually.
Laughter isn’t just entertainment. It’s survival.
Especially as we age.
Because let’s be honest. At a certain point, your body starts making executive decisions without consulting you. You look in the mirror and think,”Now where did THAT come from?” One day your legs look normal. The next day they’re covered in veins that resemble a road map designed by a drunk city planner. A map that leads to nowhere!
Your waistline quietly leaves in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye note.
The muscles shrink.
The fat remains.
You eat less than you did in your twenties, thirties, forties and for me, fifties, yet somehow your body behaves like you’re secretly consuming cheesecake between meals. It feels personal. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think my body is slowly evolving into a utility pole. At this point, I’m just hoping the lights stay on.
Is it a cruel joke?
Maybe.
But if it is, I’ve decided to laugh. Because the alternative isn’t nearly as appealing.
As I’ve written before, this season of life comes with more grief than I ever imagined. The loss of friends. Family members disappearing from the table.
Constant reminders that none of us knows how many pages remain in our story.
Lately, grief feels like a frequent visitor. Some days it walks right through the front door without knocking. And yet, even in the middle of that grief, I find myself searching for the laughter.
Not because I’m ignoring reality.
Because I’m surviving reality.
Are there days when I fail?
Days when nothing feels funny.
Days when sadness wins.
Absolutely.
But I succeed more often than I fail, and I keep trying.
I will never stop trying. I will never stop looking for the absurdity hiding inside the pain. I will never stop searching for the joke buried beneath the struggle.
And I will never stop writing stories that make people laugh. All of my scripts are comedies.
Whenever I start a new project, the first question isn’t, “How do I tell this story?” It’s, “How do I tell this story and make people laugh?” How do I share this information and make people laugh? How do I help someone feel a little less alone and make them laugh?
Because that quote is right.
Laughter really is the shortest distance between two people.
It’s also one of the shortest distances between pain and healing.
Between grief and hope.
Between merely surviving and actually living.
So, if you’ve laughed at something I’ve written, thank you.
If you’ve shared one of my stories, thank you.
If you’ve ever snorted coffee through your nose because of something ridiculous I wrote, you’re welcome.
And if you’re struggling right now, carrying something heavy, grieving someone you love, staring at a body you no longer recognize, or wondering where your waistline went…
Try to laugh.
Not because life is easy. But because you’re still here.
I know that’s what I’m doing.
I’m still here.
And I’m laughing.
And if Eddie Murphy ever happens to read this, I’d still like my $3.
But honestly?
Being told I was funny has probably paid better dividends than the pizza money ever would have.
