The Laughter We Remember

I viewed the CBS Morning July 22,2025 story about Gilda Radner and Allan Zwiebel, and how, despite her grave diagnosis, still wanted to laugh. I cried, and smiled watching the story. I’m sharing my 2019 LinkedIn column to remind us all that laughter is a powerful force in our lives, that can be used for both good and evil. Teams that laugh together succeed together. Cruel jokes and laughter can end careers. If necessary, bring in someone to your workplace who can help you learn the difference. And, coincidentally, both Gilda and I referred to this well-known song – remember: “It is the laughter we will remember, when we remember, the way we were.”

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The song is bittersweet, about love found and lost, and the memories that remain. All that is left after years and years is the laughter they shared. And it comforts them.

Yes, laughter is what we remember. A universal expression, it may actually have served as language for primitive man. Not to indicate humor, but to show mutual harmlessness, openness, and friendliness. Babies laugh before they speak, not because anything is funny. Instinctually, a baby knows that laughter helps two brains sync together, and hopefully that other brain belongs to someone who is going to care for him, bond with him, protect him. It stimulates endorphins and oxytocin, creating what we call love. Love that grew from laughter. It is biology, evolution, magic – a precious gift shared by few other species on earth.

But laughter has a dark side. There is laughter that is not meant to show friendliness or bonding. It is meant to demean, belittle, and objectify.

Those who use laughter as a weapon are often very skilled at it – the bully who makes someone cry, then convinces the rest of the kids to laugh. The sociopath who laughs when inflicting pain. Whether consciously or unconsciously, the person using laughter as a weapon knows that that laughter not only causes pain in the moment, but repeated pain, time and again. For some victims, they cannot tolerate hearing laughter, even when it is joyous. Others are so traumatized they feel that they do not deserve to laugh.

I know that feeling. Laughter was used as a weapon against me more than once in my life. There were the mean girls who didn’t let me into their group when we moved from New York to New Jersey. They laughed at my clothes, they laughed at my accent. Laughter that I could hear sitting inside my house, watching them walk by, sure that they knew about the chaos I was living with.

I carried other laughter with me. The laughter that came with the nickname “The Brainless Wonder.” The laughter that came after, being forced to sing into a tape recorder (you like to sing? Then sing!) a song that had lyrics something like “until I die…” For what seemed like years, I had to listen to that tape, and the voice that cut me off – “with a voice like that, you’re dead already!”

I was easily embarrassed, felt self-conscious, and was overly sensitive to laughter for most of my school years. Someone threw a firecracker at my feet in a school hallway, and the noise momentarily deafened me. But I could see the laughter on the face of the person who threw it.

It was music that saved me, and a music teacher who tolerated my hypersensitivity and tendency to storm out of a room and slam the door. I found the courage to sing again, and in my senior year, I spent the entire year studying humor and satire. The pain of laughter began to fade – not completely, it will never be completely gone, but it is locked away.

I thought it was locked away for good. But the brain is capricious with memory. Things will happen that launch you right back to the most uncomfortable moments of your past.

Like many, I had been sexually assaulted as a teen. A family friend cornered me in a boathouse, groped me, put his hands inside my bathing suit and laughed loudly as I broke free and ran away. I now know that laughter burns into the amygdala. That laughter remains a sharp memory when other details may become fuzzy. I found out that laughter, used as a weapon, lies in waiting, ready to come roaring back to your conscious mind when you experience just the right situation.

Today, when I see laughter used as a weapon, I feel that my voice of laughter’s joys and benefits is weak and unheard. In the hands of a bully, a person of power, or an entire society, laughter as a weapon can cause unrelenting trauma.

Then I remind myself that laughter has become a mission in my life. I know its importance and power. Laughter can heal, bond enemies, reduce pain, and lighten depression. Laughter may highlight social ills and announce to the crowd that the emperor has no clothes. In some societies, it is even culturally or officially suppressed because it might build up the oppressed and topple dictators. Truly, the survival mechanism that humans have relied on for eons.

And that is the laughter I remember.

Yes It is Still 2025. Have I worked on my "retreat plan"?

 

 While commemorating my landmark birthday, 

I spent some time in solitude and contemplation. 

Today I reviewed what I wrote over that time. 

I still have a lot of work to do.

 

https://www.bizcatalyst360.com/contemplations-at-70/ 

 

 

Retirement is a Numbers Game. And you won't like how they add up.

not the actual graphic from the article

 

 

Retirement Steps

This isn't what you think. 

 

by Noreen Braman

 

The only way the word “retire” is going to be in my vocabulary will be about “retiring” my car. With tires. Which I just did and have 80,000 miles before the next “retiring.” Me and my 2013 Hyundai still have lots of roads to travel, both figuratively and literally. In age, me and the car are similar, and still on the road. No fancy back-up camera or computerized screen. Just the mechanical, adjustable rear-view mirror, and a backlit dashboard counting my miles, my temperature, and how far I can drive before I need gas. I am proud to drive a 6-speed with the original clutch. People are surprised. A little like the dentist who always praises my original teeth. With no cavities. (Well, one.) To use a phrase that will absolutely date me, I just keep on truckin’.

Still, I am surrounded by people making plans for retirement or actually retiring, including some who haven’t even waited for that magic retirement age algorithm. There are others who vow to “never retire,” and they come in two groups. The first group who define themselves as their work and can’t imagine doing anything else with their lives.  This is the “I’ll die with my boots on” group. The second group, while contemplating they will also die with their boots on, are people like me. Those unable to contemplate how to live once the paychecks stop. Those of us who, for most of our lives, lived paycheck to paycheck, remortgaged houses, dipped into savings for an emergency (and maybe the luxury of a vacation or two) or otherwise have not amassed the million dollars currently thought of as the bare minimum to retire on. (No, you can’t include social security or pensions in that – that’s one million aside from any other money you have or will get).

Me, I took my social security at the age that was specified – no early start for me. Combining that with my full-time job and my part-time public speaking felt very strange. I developed a habit of checking my bank account just to look at how much money was there – after paying bills and buying groceries. I didn’t run out and buy a sportscar, but I did start doing things that I never would have done before. Some short holiday trips. Attending a conference in Arizona. Flying to visit family. Planning a cruise 3 years in advance. Putting a deck on the back of the house. Stuff like that.  For five years I felt like a huge burden had been lifted. The first time in my working life I was NOT working paycheck to paycheck. Then came that birthday. The decade changer. I turned 70.

It's been only a few months, but my always ready to rise anxiety woke up. Almost every morning I wake up with physical manifestations of anxiety – adrenaline pumping and an unformed feeling of fear. My old friend, from my paycheck-to-paycheck days had returned. Because turning 70 brought along some new fears. Fear of Cognitive Decline, Health Problems, the Never-Ending Unpaid Mortgage, All the Clutter in the House, Work Weariness, and Unfinished Business which includes “Final Expenses.”

Then along comes Arthur C. Brooks, who in 2019, wrote an article, titled, in large letters, Your Professional Decline Is Coming (Much) Sooner Than You Think, and in tiny letters the subheading: Here’s how to make the most of it. The reason I have encountered this article is because The Atlantic has been sharing this as a teaser all around social media to encourage subscriptions. I am curious as to how many new subscribers signed up from seeing this article, and how old they are.

 The graph at the top of the article stopped me in my tracks. A man with glasses and a briefcase is standing at the top of a staircase. Behind him are steps rising up in numbers, each a decade in life.  Age 10, age 20, age 30, age 40, and then the pinnacle at age 50.

The man is peeking over the other side which shows a precipitous drop from 50 to 60. 60 is lined up at age 20. Next is the drop to 70, where the graph ENDS. The age of 10 is on the left-hand side in line with 70. There are no more steps to go down. Just underground.

I couldn’t read the article. At age 70, what could it tell me? Settle my affairs? How can I do that when my cognitive abilities are now in line with a 10-year-old? Sure, I was a pretty smart 10-year-old, honor roll and all that, but a 10-year-old needs supervision, no matter how smart they are for their age. And what about supporting myself? I was a pretty cool babysitter at 10, having 2 younger sisters.  However, me bouncing into someone’s house now with the cognition of a 10-year-old, who quite possibly knows nothing about computers, or microwaves, or back-up car cameras, OR THE INTERNET – parents wouldn’t trust me for a second.

 So now I am wondering, why I am still able to work, to drive, to find my way around, take care of my house, my car, remember all my kids and grandkids names, as well as knowing quite a few of the Jeopardy questions when younger contestants are staring into space – will my brain suddenly remember this chart and just cut me off?  Like right now

 

 

"Why is it always water?" - one of my children, mopping up

Buy "Treading Water" special limited price

 

 

 

Another Watery Adventure

 

 A blast from the past by Noreen Braman 

 

Introduction: After completing my book “Treading Water” I knew that it probably didn’t mean the end of watery adventures

Yesterday, an appliance malfunction reminded me that water-related events continue to haunt me. I thought I was safe when the 100-year flood in Jamesburg only brought water into my yard and right up to my deck, but not into my crawlspace or house. For the past several winters I have scrupulously avoided frozen, burst water pipes by always remembering to let the kitchen faucet trickle, just a tiny bit. And the Atlantic Ocean has allowed me to maintain my dignity by not knocking me down or removing my swimwear during my summer visits. But, the water may be still, but it is running deep. I have a toilet that refuses to be fixed, and will run water incessantly if not closely monitored. The way the little chain manages to knot itself up, despite numerous adjustments, points to more at work than faulty parts. Which brings me to this week's adventure, in which two elements conspired against me, water AND fire — or at least smoke.

In preparation for a seminar in NYC, I threw in a load of laundry that included just about every seminar-suitable piece of clothing I own. I also included the only jeans that fit me comfortably. Basically, I left out formal wear, outfits that require panty hose, and sweats. As the washer filled up, I filled the teakettle (with what else, water). When the teakettle whistled I came back into the kitchen and noticed an odd smell. The air seemed to have a lot of teakettle steam in it. As I poured the water into the teacup, I realized that the smell was more smoky than steamy, that it was getting worse and that the washer had stopped.

As soon as I got near the washer, I realized the smoky stink was coming from it, and my first thought was that the motor was burning up. I tried to pull the washer out so I could pull the plug, but of course, true to the way my life goes, the washer was full of water. I turned it off, but the stink was growing and I expected to see flames behind the washer at any minute. A fireman's brigade was quickly formed to empty the water from the washer and dump it in the sink, using a bucket, a pot and some water bottles. My eyes burned and my throat hurt as we bailed and bailed until finally the washer was light enough to move.

Thankfully, the plug was not hot, no wires were burning, at least on the outside of the washer. No flames were evident, and with no power, the washer cooled down. The smoky stink clung to everything in the house. My mind flashed back to the apartment I lived in when I was 18. A basement apartment. An apartment that might not have been legal due to the insufficient plumbing. The way I learned about that was the day I came home to find sewer water spewing up out of my toilet and my kitchen sink. It was 4 inches deep in the kitchen. Luckily, at that time, I had a portable washer, and I spent a long evening with a bucket, dumping the water into the washer, and then putting the drain hose out the window to get rid of the fouls smelling stuff.

I was able to break my lease shortly after that. Getting the smell out of my belongings took a lot longer. Today, I hauled all the sopping wet clothes from this recent washer adventure outside and hung them to drip dry. I skipped the seminar (having nothing to wear) and began the "waiting for the repairman" ritual. While waiting, I counted all the pennies I could find to try and determine if I could replace the stackable washer and dryer if indeed the motor was fried. It was looking more and more like I would be patronizing the disgusting, expensive laundromat in town.

I greeted the repairman like a teenager meeting a pop star, and hovered nearby as he began to take apart the washer. Taking off the cover let out a last gasp of choking stink, and we both coughed. The repairman did his thing while I tried not to overwhelm him with anxious questions. Finally, his head came out from under the washer. In his hand was what looked like a giant seal from a mason jar. It was black and crunchy. It was a "belt" and it had slipped out of wherever it was supposed to be, and it had burned the only way rubber knows how to burn — by stinking up the place.

He replaced the belt, we ran the washer through its paces, and to my great relief, it worked fine! The specter of the laundromat faded from my brain. I could hear my checkbook actually sign with relief. Later, as I reloaded the washer with the original load of clothes, I thought, maybe the water stuck in the washer when it stopped wasn't again the universe's damp way of compounding a problem for me.

Maybe the water was there to protect me, in case the overheated belt actually did start some flames. Maybe water is finally my friend. I may have to stop torturing it in the teakettle.

It Was a Sunshine, Clown Nose Day

 

Got my shirt, my sun, and my red nose - let's go!

 

5 Fun Facts I've Discovered About Laughter 

The choice of noses was red or blue - and the group picked whichever they wanted. They didn't know it would denote their "team" - really just a designation to determine who would be first to try a laughter exercise.

They learned the laughter sounds, "Ho Ho Ho, Ha Ha Ha, Hee Hee Hee," and the most important sound: "Whee!" The group not laughing were tasked with keeping eye contact with a laugher, and then the roles were reversed. It was so much fun - and educational to boot! Because laughter is important, necessary, and doesn't have to rely on jokes or comedy.

1. Survival

It all started with primitive humans. Imagine a group of hunter-gatherers meeting another group. Real language hadn't been invented, hand gestures ruled the day. Currently, there are lots of studies around the origin of laughter, and it's purpose. My own, overly simplified story is that primitive humans needed ways to show they were cooperative and non threatening. Vocalization based on forced breath created sounds akin to "ha ha." Nothing was funny - humor would develop many years later. And now, after so many years and so much evolving, we have human laughter that is so powerful, it can bring down dictators or uplift the down-trodden.

2. Diabolical Babies

There is nothing quite so endearing as the sound of a baby laughing. Parents recognize their baby's laughter, even when the pediatrician tells them it isn't really laughter, just probably gas. (Yes, they said that to me!) But recently, FMRIs have proven what parents knew all along. Babies are laughing - apparently for no reason. Or what is REALLY going on? The FMRIs discovered that when someone is laughing with a baby, and especially with eye contact, the brain waves of the adult and the baby start to sync together. Of course, we adults think we are teaching the baby how to laugh, and therefore, their brain is following ours. But here is the diabolical part: it is the BABY who is exerting mind control on the grown-up because their survival is dependent on getting someone to take care of them. Again, parents have probably been suspicious of this for a long time. The FMRIs have proven it!

3. Sense of Humor

Once humans were off and running with the whole language thing, there have been jokes, and puns, and practical jokes. Humans developed a "sense of humor" which is just a way of saying "what I like to laugh at." Over the millennia, this "sense of humor" created some of the first jokes scrawled on walls, many of which, to our ears now, are either not funny, filthy, or political ridicule. The oldest joke found, so far, dates back to 1900 BC, and yes, it was toilet humor. Today, humor is a wide ranging collection of all types of ways to elicit smiles, groans, chuckles, and guffaws.

4. Benefits of Laughter

Here is where laughter plays a huge part in human lives. Laughter releases feel-good hormones to your brain, and it is not just for fun. These hormones build resilience that helps you when life is not funny. Laughter benefits your body physically, and your brain, mentally. What many of us do not know, is that we need to consciously create habits to support our resilience. There is a scientific estimation that for every 3 negative things that happen to you, you need 5 resilience boosting events to recover. This is why sometimes you feel the hits keep coming and you can’t get back on your feet. Studies have also shown that laughter in particular, helps lower blood sugar levels, gives you some aerobic exercise, and decreases pain.

5. Laughter for the Health of It

The concept of laughter that doesn't rely on jokes or comedy is not a new idea. The practice of Laughter Yoga, created by Dr. Madan Kataria, combines the pranayama breathing from yoga, and exercises performed while chanting laughter sounds. This can involve clapping, deep breathing, stretching, and miming daily activities such as mixing a cake. Laughing "for the health of it" has has become an important part of supporting and maintaining resilience.

The Smile Side of Life

Starting with Laughter Yoga, and expanding into other well-being subjects, The Smile Side of Life presents fun and informative ways to use humor, laughter, and other habits that support resilience. For more information, go to www.njlaughter.com

Noreen Braman

Certified Laughter Wellness Instructor - Let's Talk About a Program for Your Employees

Author of: Treading Water – The Pandemic Edition, What Gets You Out of Bed in the Morning?

www.njlaughter.com

info@njlaughter.com

Take A Laughter Break for the Health of It

5 Well-Being Habits That Build Resilience & Enhance Well-Being

An Introduction Character Strengths

Your Mission Statement

NANOPRIMO APRIL 29, 2025 A Tiring Adventure

  

 

A Tiring Adventure

This morning my car greeted me with 

one of those mysterious dashboard icons

    Not the submarine icon

    Not the "left your headlights on" icon

    not even the "better get gas now!" reminder.

It was that squished bubble with exclamation point proclaiming tire trouble

perhaps a pothole, nail, or rock creating an escape of air

a warning to hit the air pump as soon as safely possible.

Three tires were fine, but the last one was 

a pancaked rubber circle, wheel cover almost touching the ground 

    suddenly I was aware

    that in all my years of driving

    I had never had a flat.

Now my dad had made sure that could I change a tire on the side of the road

but the air pump gave me some time to get to tires 'r us

to find out, yes, a nail, but also

dry rot on all four tires.

Low mileage works for some things, but years account for more, as now I sit here 

    writing about how a nail in a tire

    became four new tires

    and a ride down memory lane.

©Noreen Braman

 

NAPOWRIMO April 28, 2025 Last Minute Annie

 

 

Last Minute Annie

someone who leaves things to the very last minute, often the night before a deadline. - Urban Dictionary

She always called me that

when it was usually something she wanted doing

and I needed to be elsewhere.

or

when he laughed and told me

if I had a brain I'd be dangerous

but better be on the honor roll

so

in today's workday world

my pattern is to be ready ahead

as much as is possible

but

others become last minute annies

expecting I'm available 

and compliant

while

inside I hear the laughter

feel the humiliation

and burn with embarrassment and anger. 

©2025 Noreen Braman