My Friend Cracked, and I Laughed?
Laughing is sometimes our response to get through tough moments but shouldn’t be our only response.
Summers in Philly can be unbearable. “It’s the humidity,” everyone says to each other. Right. The air is more like syrup than air. But people adapt to everything, you know. And so Philadelphians adapt to the thick atmosphere and, if they can, head to the south Jersey shore for breathable air, the ocean and cool summer nights.
Following college graduation I was living at my mother’s house. We were preparing to leave for the Jersey shore for a short break.
So I’m sitting on the phone in the kitchen when my mother comes in from the front porch, bent over as she walks, laughing uncontrollably. She sputters out my boyfriend’s name: “Dale, Dale, he’s on the porch! Get out here!”
Nothing could have prepared me to see my boyfriend standing on the porch, dressed in white from head to toe, with a six-foot cross resting on his shoulders, a styrofoam skimmer hat on his head.
My uncle, swaying on the porch swing, evening cocktail in hand, seemed to take this in stride. He pointed out the only understanding that made sense to him. “You must be appearing in a Passion Play somewhere. How nice.”
My reaction was typical when confronted with something I can’t compute. I freeze, and then say something mundane. I numbly stuttered, “Want to come inside for an iced tea?”
Dale smiled and took steps towards to front door. “Can you, um, leave the cross outside?” I asked. “No, my cross goes everywhere with me,” he replies.
So in we go, me, Dale and his six-foot cross. We sit at the kitchen table and I pour a beverage for him. I ask him what is he doing? Why the cross? It looks crazy.
The cross, seeming to have a soul of its own, rested on the kitchen table. Dale was hyped and chatted on merrily. He began, “Well, for one, I’ve changed my name. Please call me David Hannibal Simon Bar-jonah from now on. I’ve been in the basement, building this cross and I’m almost finished reading the entire Bible. These names were given to me. This is how you should address me from now on.” (The unfamiliar name Bar-jonah occurs one time in the Bible, and it appears to be Peter’s surname (Matthew 16:17). Ref: Abarim Publications)
We talked for a while but I was in shock. Dale was a handsome guy, an extremely original, talented musician and filmmaker. His humor and warm laughter were infectious, he could make me laugh like no one else. We played music together, me on guitar, he at the piano, running through originals and cover tunes. For fun we made a movie called “The Cranberry Bog Monster” with his many friends. He was popular, well-loved and an accomplished artist for his age.
Who was this David Hannibal Simon Bar-jonah sitting at my kitchen table with the cross laying there like a mummy between us?
Dale prattled on about his many Biblical inspirations. Weary of this, I offered to take him to the train station so that he could go home and rest. He cheerily agreed.
The dilemma was what to do with the cross, since I had a VW Beetle. We struggled to find a way to lodge it into the back seat, sticking out of the passenger window. Treacherous? Dangerous? That was the least of my problems.
We arrived at the train station early. So I parked the car and we got the darn cross out of the car and started walking in a shopping district. The stores were all closed by now. Mercifully quiet.
Walking down the avenue lots of cars slowed down to stare at us. But suddenly Dale’s upbeat mood switched.
“MISS DUFFEE!” came a loud, deep, booming voice. “This is the Lord Your God speaking to you!” His face contorted.
I started giggling now, hoping he was joking. Hoping he would drop this masquerade and laugh, saying, “Oh, I got you! Ha, you bought it hook, line and sinker!” Hoping that this was just a big goof. Hoping that Dale would return. I did not like this new incarnation.
My voice shaking a bit, I asked, “Is that how God addresses me? So formal?” But there was no levity in his announcement. I meant to make him laugh. But David Hannibal Simon Bar-jonah was not amused. “MISS DUFFEEE” he boomed. “You shall marry this man before you, David Simon Hannibal Bar-jonah, and bear his children.”
The rest of the conversation is a blur. Dale was growing agitated and terrifyingly focused on the marriage deal commanded by God. I finally delivered him to the train station and watched him walk up the stairs with his cross. And then I started crying.
Two days later, the guy formerly known as Dale tried to commit suicide. I visited him in the hospital since his mother called me to say Dale would talk to no one but me. She was confused about what was happening to her son. I told her he wasn’t well when he visited two days earlier, but for some reason I did not bring up the cross or ask where it was.
After my summer break in Jersey was over I tried to get in touch with Dale, but he didn’t return my calls. I was dealing with my own schisms, the fractures in my life. I soon moved away and looked for a job.
The story was the most requested among family and friends and everyone would laugh to tears over it. The implausibility of it all, what a crazy guy, loony friend you have, how did he get on the train carrying the cross, would you ever marry such a nutball?
No one ever brought up mental illness.
Let’s Talk About Laughter
We laugh at things or events that are unfamiliar or uncomfortable. Laughter eases our discomfort. It’s the reaction when we’re shocked, frightened or disoriented. It’s not always a reaction to things that please us.
People laugh hardest at what we know best and with people we know best. Laughter is always social. We’re 30 times more likely to laugh with others as opposed to being alone because laughter is contagious. But it’s a weird thing to do, and humans all over the world do it. Our breathing gets interrupted, we gasp, guffaw and even convulse.
Humans will react to the sound of laughter. Give this a try.
Laughter is more about bonding than humor. And we like it when we know we’re safe and together, laughing at something that is fake, e.g., when we watch a comedy sketch.
Dogs, primates, rats and parrots laugh. Joy, amusement, and connection are communicated. There are people who study humor and laughter called gelotologists. We get lots of dopamine and endorphins when we laugh so it’s healthful.
Humor has not always been appreciated throughout history. Many philosophers, including Plato, objected to laughter, and considered “the enjoyment of comedy as a form of scorn.” Religious leaders objected to the “loss of self-control.”
The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy outlines three theories of Humor:
Incongruity Theory. Here, there is the element of surprise. When we are presented with a comedian acting with extraordinary skill, it delights us. Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton escaping dangers with most unexpected maneuvers makes us laugh. Monty Python sketches come to mind. There is the audience expectation and the scene that plays out, such as in Python’s Dead Parrot sketch.
Relief Theory. The release of nervous energy is at work here. Unlike Fight or Flight, humans don’t do anything else when they’re laughing, so this laughter is for the simple relief of tension, suspense or expectation.
Superiority Theory. This is the type of laughter when we see a classmate humiliated and made fun of. Not a lot of goodwill in spite of the sound of giggles and guffaws. That laughter is about diminishment of another. So superiority laughter is based on self-comparison and the “happy” feelings come from subjugation of someone or something.
But there are times that Superiority Laughter gains our power back if we’ve lost it. Mel Brooks said about writing his famous musical number in The Producers, “Springtime for Hitler”:
“The only way to get even with anybody is to ridicule them,” he said. “So, the only real way I could get even with Hitler and company was to bring them down with laughter.” (“Inside Comedy” with David Steinberg)
The other reaction to misfortune, of course, can be compassion and empathy. Some things are simply not funny, any way you cut it.
That evening with Dale, I remember having a mixture of all of these reactions.
A Note About Mental Illness Early Onset
As our 21st century provides us with greater learning about mental illness, we have made some progress in understanding its onset.
Mental Illness starts early in life. Sixty-two percent of mental disorders have onset before the age of 25. And they are the serious ones, Schizophrenia, Personality Disorders, Depression and other Mood Disorders. (Psychology Today)
Male depression moreso than female depression oftentimes goes undiagnosed. Men display different symptoms, such as headaches, digestive problems and long-term pain.
Men are more likely to downplay their symptoms, not wanting to admit weakness or discuss depression. And men are more likely to resist treatment.
It’s so important for us all to keep laughter in our days. Humor and wit can be the two tools against the trials of life, the balm of sorrows.
And honestly, I did laugh telling this story years ago, it was shockingly funny once it was over. A friend always pointed out to me that my funniest stories were horrible to go through but made for great stories later. And leave it to Dale, with his extreme imagination and creativity, to come up with this persona, David Hannibal Simon Bar-jonah. I still hold a belief that a part of him enjoyed the theatricality of it.
But I know he was suffering. He needed compassion and support, which I’m glad I was able to give him days later in the hospital. But he needed more to recover from a psychic break. I hope he got all the help he needed.
I looked up Dale a number of times over the years but was never able to re-connect. When I reflect on that evening with Dale now I bless him and hope things turned out well for him.
Note: If you know someone who may hurt themselves, or if you are having those sensations, please Contact a suicide hotline. In the U.S., call or text 988 to reach the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Or use the Lifeline Chat. Services are free and confidential.
