The phone rang at the crack of dawn. On the other end, there was silence followed by a gasp of breath and high-pitched, hysterical laughter. It was my mother and she was still laughing about the previous nights event in which I tripped and fell in the same hole twice at a crowded Labor Day fireworks party attended by thousands.
It is an understatement to say that my mother loves to laugh. Laughter is a lifestyle for her. And one of her greatest assets is her high-pitched, contagious, unmistakable cackle of a belly laugh.
As a teenager, it’s a laugh that drove me to sit incognito several rows away from her in a movie theater – or maybe it was the red silk-screened t-shirt with Elvis in his white jump suit she was wearing in honor of his birthday. Regardless, I sat on the other side of the theater.
The loud laughter was not necessarily appreciated after receiving a bad haircut or looking especially pathetic after getting four impacted wisdom teeth pulled.
However, it was always incentive to perform. There is no greater joy than seeing my mother in all out laughter.
I love the photo of her smiling from ear to ear holding a crying child because it exemplifies her good nature. And we all know as mothers how difficult it is to be patient and good-natured while deep in the throes of child-rearing.
I joke that if my mom thinks my writing is funny, I have succeeded. Laughter is truly the best compliment you can receive. Even if it’s not the response you’re looking for, you gotta be able to laugh to survive.
So for this Mother’s Day, I’m sharing the famous laugh of the original Laughing Mom, my mother. Hopefully, she’ll get a belly laugh out of watching herself in action. Happy Mother’s Day!
This video was taken at her 70th birthday dinner. I had written several parody letters from some of her celebrity crushes. The one she just opened was a faux letter from height-challenged crooner, Steve Tyrell explaining that if she found some teeny tiny shoes in the envelope, he had fallen out and she was to call the club to tell them he’d be late for his set. The lei she is wearing came in a faux letter from her beloved Elvis.
© 2012 Terri Spilman