Remember when you were a kid and couldn't stop laughing? When the littlest thing set you off and you were engulfed in the giggles? When Sister Mary Shame on You shook her bony finger in your face and you tried to clench your mouth shut but the merriment just snorted right out your nose and made Sister even madder?
     And remember when you and your sister shared a room, all the nights your father would yell up the stairway that the two of you had better cut it out? When your dad said if he had to come upstairs you wouldn't be laughing anymore because he'd give you something to cry about? And the threat of that spanking made you fall off your bed, laughing?
     I remember a summer afternoon nearly 50 years ago when my best friend and I packed homemade ginger cookies and Kool-Aid for a picnic at the park. Halfway down the alley, we stopped to rest on a neighbor's retaining wall, to have a ginger snap and a sip of cherry-flavored liquid from the Thermos. My friend said something funny and we both got to laughing so hard, we began coughing and couldn't stop. Between the choking and chortling, one of us wet our pants. We swore each other to secrecy, so I can't tell you which one. When was the last time I laughed like that? When fun took over my sense of sensibility and I just let myself go?
     A recent article in the Minneapolis paper touted the health benefits of, "A good belly laugh [which] appears to beneficially affect the body's hormones." Commenting on the study of humor's influence on health, a researcher concluded, "We should become more serious about laughter." But isn't that the problem? We no longer laugh with the abandon of youngsters. Told to "Grow up!" we learned to laugh with self control, like little ladies and gentlemen.
     We've all heard the saying, "Laughter is the best medicine." If you've seen the movie about Patch Adams, starring Robin Williams, you know this is true.
     It seems to be working for Pulitzer prize-winning columnist, Art Buchwald, too. A recent story in People magazine said Mr. Buchwald, suffering from a host of ailments, his leg amputated below the knee (a result of gangrene), opted to halt thrice-weekly dialysis treatments and put himself into a hospice to prepare for the end. He planned his own funeral. "I've had 80 great years," he said.
     But he's been having too much hilarity in the hospice. He said he, "Never realized dying was so much fun." He entertains visitors, writes his newspaper column, and recently signed a book deal. In fact, with his kidney function showing improvement, he plans to sign himself out of the hospice to, "Take a vacation on his beloved Martha's Vineyard." Mr. Buchwald, it seems, is having the last laugh.
     The last laugh is what I want for all of us—a laugh so raucous we snort through our noses. Double over with such delight we can't stand up for fear we'll wet our pants. A laugh so loud it drowns out the nagging voice telling us to grow up and stop making fools of ourselves. Remember how good foolish felt when you were a kid? Let's try it.
     Have you heard the one about…?