First Laugh

Recently, I stumbled on the fact that in Navajo culture, there is a celebration to mark the sacred milestone of a baby’s first laugh. The belief is that the first laugh indicates an embrace of the life in this realm, a final rupture with the spirit world, as if the baby’s giggle means he has decided to stay.

Maybe laughter is always a decision to really be here, to commit to being present in the world, to being connected.

Last Monday, I was in Jamestown, Rhode Island, where my family and I go in the summer, and I taught on zoom from a room at the Airbnb. I checked into my class and then couldn’t stop laughing. The Airbnb, which was very nice and met all of our various needs, including the dog who got the zoomies in the fenced-in enormous back yard multiple times a day, was filled with signage. Every room, every surface, as if a Home Goods devotee had been given a challenge to fit as many Live-Love-Laugh messages inside the walls as is humanly possible. My favorite was a sign in the room where I taught that said, “Stay Salty.” After class, my wonderful students sent me images of equally terrible signs to keep the joke going.

By the next class on the next night, I was used to all of the words decorating the rented walls. I taught my class with this one student I have who is one of the funniest writers I’ve had the privilege of working with. She’s going through a lot right now and is writing her way through it in a way that fills me with admiration. These pieces are vulnerable and fearless, and then suddenly very very funny. I thought about her after class when I couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning in sheets that had a repeating pattern of shells and the words “coastal life” in fancy script, and I wondered if her humor is a kind of commitment to really be here right now, no matter how hard it gets, to be present and connected and completely with us. And I marvel at that choice and love her for it. How lucky are the rest of us to be in class with her?

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And just for fun, these are photos of Fort Wetherill in Jamestown, RI, with a different kind of signage.

Thank you for reading.