Living with the Unexpected

HS # 17  2016.12.6

Living with the unexpected

Several years ago, I was having lunch at 8^th Street Russ’ in Holland. A teenage boy was busy clearing the tables, and across the isle from me several 40-something aged women got up to leave. One of them nodded to the table-clearer and said, “We’ve leaving, you can clear our table now.”  He looked back with an expression of, “What’s your problem?”  Seeing his expression, she repeated – a bit more emphatically, “We’re done here – you can clean off our table.”  By this time her behavior had attracted my attention and that of several others. Noticing our quiet disapproval, she gave a quick head-point towards the young man, smiled, and explained, “That’s my son.”

As I broke into a chuckle, it occurred to me what a difference an explanation can make.  Somehow I imagined this typical teenager going through his 16 years giving grudging help at best. Had he ever cleared a table at home? Who knows – but his mother was certainly taking delight in seeing him do it now. What fun.

What is it about the unexpected that often causes us to break out in laughter?

Once when walking through the Hope College Student Union, I overheard a custodian confront a student who had his feet up on the coffee table, “Do you put your feet on your coffee table at home?”  “Huh?  Yes - - I do.”  “Well, you’re not at home, so get them off!”

Quick thinking – caught me by surprise, and likely the student as well.

Or there was the time when I was having lunch with a couple professor friends in the Hope Kletz. We were discussing my faithful canine companion, Elvis.  The conversation ranged from whether I was careful to pick up after him on campus to whether dogs might join us in heaven.  Getting up to leave, sociology professor Don Luidens explained that he regretted leaving this discussion of scatology and eschatology. 

I still take delight in that quick-witted association.

Indeed, why do we laugh at the unexpected – especially when it is at our own expense?

I once had a calculus student come to my office for help. I spent 90 minutes thoroughly explaining the material and carefully answering his questions. Upon leaving, he gratefully acknowledged my help, “Thanks anyway.”

Another time I was talking with my fellow math professor, John Van Iwaarden, after the Hope College graduation ceremony.  A math student who we had both taught in several classes approached us, grabbed John’s hand, and pumping it vigorously, enthused “Thank you for being such a great teacher! It was so easy to learn from you.”  Then turning to leave, he noticed me and stuck out his hand, “Goodbye.”

Then also, the unexpected humor can come from good intentions.

Several years ago I mistakenly gave Elvis a ham bone to enjoy. Not a good idea. The bone splinters into flakes and clogs up the digestive system.  Taking the vet’s advice, I put Elvis on the back porch with the door propped open to the back yard, so that he could relieve himself as needed. Feeling sorry for subjecting him to the frigid March temperatures, I bundled up in a sleeping bag and several blankets and spent the night on the porch futon to keep him company. After a chilly and restless night, I awoke to find him nowhere in sight. He was neither on the porch nor outside.

Getting rather nervous I glanced towards the door to the house and there he was – inside the house, cozy and warm – smiling out at me. I found out later that after a trip outdoors, he had gone to the front of the house (his usual entry point) and barked to be let back in. My kind-hearted neighbor heard him, and gave him entry.  I rather think he spent the night laughing at me.

What is it that often makes us laugh when surprised? Maybe it is a naturally developed defense mechanism, maybe a gift from God. Whatever the case, humor is a salve that enables us to accommodate the unexpected in our lives – especially when it is consequential and far-reaching.  As was said by others wiser than I, “The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.” “There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.“