Laughter, from head to toe and edge to edge, fills the chest with lack of dread.

I find this to be true in many respects, especially for my own survival. I need to laugh. Much like a washer needs a dryer, and the broom needs the dust pan, I must find the funny to combat the idle woes. The action itself is satisfying to me. Think about it, when you tilt your head to the side and just give way to the giggles, you are doing yourself a favor. Laughing releases endorphins into your brain, following the activation of the ventromedial prefrontal cortex, to say nothing of the infectious way that laughter can spread, from person to person. Traveling unknown miles and indeterminate levels of consciousness, “funny” forms in ways we can’t explain.

In my family, my mom is the one. Ya know, the one that can’t stop laughing. She’s the one at the dinner table that covers her whole face with a dish towel because she can’t stop laughing. The same one that runs to the bathroom on the frequent occasion that she actually wets herself. Ma is the one that laughs so hard, by the time she actually gets around to explaining what it was that was so funny, it’s not funny anymore. She’s completely uncontrollable, and it’s hilarious. From showing me how to make Lasagna, to shopping for evening gowns, and to late-night binge watching The Golden Girls and Friends, my mother and I have a laugh every chance we can. I have often said that my Mom is my best friend, and I think it’s because we can find all the fun in the world by doing nothing at all. Rochelle is the main reason I write this story today.

It is paramount to create friendship, fellowship, and togetherness, among brothers and sisters built on trust and understanding. A community of peaceful companions is not found, but fortified. Brick by brick, trust is built. If enough effort is devoted to the cause of cohesion, safety and security will begin to materialize. For example, since my brother and I were very young, we have been referred to as ‘brother.’ My mom would phrase it in such a way, too. “Where’s brother? Go get brother!” His name, Dylan, wasn’t important. My name, Daniel, was not important either. We were brothers, to each other and for each other. Thus, we were created equal, in the eyes of our parents and in our own. I have never had a biological sister so I cannot comment on the bond that is forged in that respect.

Expanding on this idea, to develop a sense of kinship between scholars instead of siblings takes a little more work. Some children, if this you can believe, were actually brought up to believe they could do no wrong. I do not respond to this well. This is one main reason I never joined a social fraternity here on campus. It seemed, to me at least, that it was hordes of young men who never learned how to be a brother before they became one. According to my twisted view, the fraternity is supposed to be about a sense of honor for each brother and the fathers that came before. My friends, who shall remain nameless for they already know whom they are, represent the very best and the very brightest. Artists and authors, Jews and gentiles, rich and poor, musicians and magicians; these are my people. So, what we decided to do was form a brotherhood around us and call it a fraternity. The gang is better when its altogether. Harmony is but a drug, too sweet to insatiate.

The real world is scary at times. I may have bills to pay, debts owed, books to read, people to see, and things to do; but so long as I have air in my body, I will laugh until someone laughs with me, and with my friends I never have to laugh too long.

Cheers,

Daniel J. Neebes