One night after dinner, I started giggling. Everything struck me
funny, and, looking back, things were, in fact, very amusing. But
laughing for twenty straight minutes is something unusual even for me.
It all started when half a dozen of us here at Green Valley Resort
decided to play The Game of Things. The game is simple. The players
are read a question. Each person writes down an answer, which is
concealed from the others. Then the answers are read, and the group
members try to guess who wrote which answer. The first question was,
"What should you avoid doing when you are naked?"
One of the answers was, "Pass gas." Cheap shot, right? That would be
true except that there was nothing cheap about this group. It was
composed of Lyle and me, a multi-million dollar fundraiser from Las
Vegas, a Muslim surgeon, a DC lobbyist for the American Cancer
Society, a consultant for teaching hospitals across the country, and a
student from Albion College. The coed had not written the pass gas
answer; the fundraiser had.
In the next round ("Name something you should not do when the teacher
is reprimanding you"), the fundraiser again wrote "pass gas." She was
guessed in no short order, but it was so silly we all couldn't help
but laugh. The next round that same answer showed up to the query,
"Name something that can get you fired," but it was Lyle not the
fundraiser who had written it! Then the lobbyist wrote "farting" as an
answer. Farting! Please notice that the college student had nothing to
do with this silliness. Of course, she was busy writing things like,
"Pretend you are deaf" to multiple questions.
People continued using one answer repeatedly but rewording it or
putting a slightly different spin on it. We were acting like ten year
old boys, and, believe me, this was the most unlikely group ever to
engage in such behavior.
I started laughing and then just couldn't stop. I'd regain my
composure for a minute and then the laughter would just explode out of
my mouth. Maybe you've seen me have one of these fits. They are
uncontrollable and infectious. Everyone ended up laughing until we
cried and then laughing some more. It really felt great.
Earlier that day, I had had my second infra-red sauna treatment during
which I sat in a 120 degree sauna for thirty minutes drinking de-tox
tea and watching the clock. Somehow I think that cleansing experience
and the giggling were connected. The laughter seemed to be releasing
any remaining poisons in my system. Regardless, I felt wonderful by
the end of the game – lighter, clearer, happier, and more grateful
It's good medicine, that laughter.