The Daughter of Laughter and Chaos

 

 

 

The Daughter of Laughter & Chaos

 

Many of us have somewhere in an old photo album, attic storage box,

or just in our memory, an image from our babyhood,

and a time when we begin  demonstrating  important early survival skills.

Skills such as Sitting Up and Laughing.

We all understand the importance

of developing the ability for independent movement,

but laughter, not so much.

By the time I started doing those things,

my father was dead,

the cancer that would kill my grandmother

was already eating through her body,

and my mother was spending her nights

listening to Pat Boone’s “My Special Angel,”

crying and wondering what would become of us.

Our lives seemed doomed to chaos.

It had been my mother’s companion for many years,

a small hungry animal demanding to be fed.

Over the years,

that chaos would grow into a huge dragon,

whose teeth could both smile and bite,

and in whose mouth was both fire and laughter.

But, as a baby, I knew none of this,

and just kept on laughing and smiling

with everyone.

And eventually,

my mother remarried

and soon there were three of us girls.

My sisters and I

grew to learn that laughter

is a two edged sword,

and can be used as a weapon.

Most of my life I heard this:

“If you had a brain, you’d be dangerous.”

It was said with a smirk, if not an outright laugh.

It was a “clever” referral to my nickname:

The Brainless Wonder.

This was humor and laughter being used as a

 weapon – to belittle, demean and control me.

I grew up feeling that all laughter

was being directed at me.

Junior High was an especially terrible time

as I tried to balance leaving childhood,

surviving in an alcoholic home,

and being the parent to both my sisters and my mother.

I found comfort in music, my transistor radio, and wanted to sing.

But being forced to record my voice

for everyone to laugh at was torture.

The most uproarious joke was making me sing a song

 that included the lyric: “And when I die…”

then being interrupted by

“With a voice like that, you’re dead already.”

I truly understand it when I hear others

 talk about how incidents

that revolved around weaponized laughter

burn into your brain.

Because they burned into mine.

It was a caring music teacher

that helped me learn

that there was healing power in laughter,

all while while I was learning to play

clarinet, bass clarinet and baritone saxophone

during Junior High and High School.

I played in, and sang with,

the High School jazz band.

I spent my entire senior year

studying satire and humor in literature

and starting writing humor myself.

Meanwhile, my mother’s alcoholic chaos

enveloped the whole family

in terror, shame, confusion and resentment.

I left home at age 18, with only my pocketbook.

 Eventually I would make enough of a peace

to continue helping my sisters,

as the three of us stumbled into adulthood.

The shadow of the chaos was always there,

 influencing family dynamics, marriages,

and the raising of the next generation.

It would ultimately consume

both my mother and my stepfather,

and threatened to eat my sisters and me as well. 

In the years since their deaths,

both laughter and chaos continued to make regular visits.

 My children and I laughed long and loud,

especially when in the car traveling

back and forth to their activities.

 But they were subjected to the pain, anger and confusion

caused by the contentious divorce between me and their father,

and the difficult years of survival that came after that.

I tried very hard to embrace the idea

expressed by Nietzsche:

you need chaos in yourself

to give birth to a dancing star,

and I considered my children those stars

I didn’t realize how much laughter

 had bonded and helped

us until my nephew told his mother

that he liked me because I was always smiling.

I realized that our dance teacher’s mantra

to always “keep moving and keep smiling”

 was an instruction for life, not just performance.

But, it wasn’t until 2010 that I found out the laughter I learned as a baby, 

the laughter that chaos tried to take from me,

and the laughter that comforted me,

 my sisters and my children

had real physical & psychological benefits,

and a growing body of science to back that up.

I’ve now studied laughter as a survival skill,

well being practice and social bonding tool.

I’ve become a student of Happiness,

what it is, where it comes from,

 why we need it,

and how we find it.

Finally, I put The Brainless Wonder to rest

 by helping myself, and others laugh

for the health of it.

 I’m not a comedian,

but we can find the funny together.

Take that, Chaos.

©2026 Noreen Braman