The Revised Bucket List, Part 3…

The next bucket list item that was to be tackled last week is not so much a wish to be fulfilled, as it is a philosophy to be maintained.

On my bucket list of several years ago was a desire to keep laughing with people I enjoy being with, to maintain the ability to see the humour in situations, and to be able to laugh at myself. I was a “glass half full” woman, and I intended to go out the same way.

Goodness knows that this philosophy has been challenged in the last two years in ways I never thought possible. There were moments that I thought that our situation couldn’t get any worse, and then my daughter and I would get blindsided again.

Although there were many months that I believed I’d never be able to pull off a sincere smile again, they did come back to my face. And along with that, laughter.

One might have thought that it came because others tried to cheer me up, but it surprised me to realize that it came from within. My friends were in shock as they watched what was happening, they grieved along with me and tried to do what they could to help. Laughing wasn’t a priority, getting a roof over our heads was.

I don’t remember when exactly I found myself smiling again, I’d suggest that it accompanied the gratitude I felt as the ground swell of support grew around me. A safety net that allowed me respite from the unthinkable circumstances.

My friend’s last evening of her visit here last week had its sombre moments. We’ve parted now a few times over the last year not knowing if it was the last time we’d be hugging each other goodbye.

Yet without fail, our visits include lots of laughter.

It started out on Friday night innocently enough. My cat was stretched out with all limbs extended, this had reminded me of my friend’s last visit in January when she brought back to mind the name of toy I’d had as a child but couldn’t remember the name of. A cheap rectangle of suede with fur on it, when stroked it would rise up and down like a caterpillar. For years it had bugged me that I couldn’t remember, and in one quick second she delivered to me the answer, “Squirmin’ Herman”.

We then began to look up retro 70’s toy commercials on the iPad, one favourite of mine being for “Super Slider Snow Skates”. I used to love saying those syllables over and over again when the commercial came on, to the point of seriously annoying my mother as I begged for a pair for Christmas.

My friend hadn’t remembered ever seeing that commercial when she was young, and asked me if I got them for Christmas as I had hoped. I answered that I hadn’t. Watching the commercial I see now that my mother had wisdom and insight that at that time I didn’t possess – they would have been a recipe for a cracked limb given my lack of athletic prowess. A klutz like me might have done herself in hurtling down a snowy hillside wearing those contraptions.

More laughter ensued about the 70’s styles, products and fads. Suddenly my friend piped up, “Do you remember the Man They Call Ravine?

What was I not catching on to here? Why call a man a ravine? I looked at her quizzically.

She, in a deep voice starting singing “The Ma-HAN They Call RAVINE!!!!” holding long and strong on the last word.

It was explained to me that Raveen, not ravine, had been a popular performer/illusionist years back who had passed away a few days earlier. I didn’t remember him, or the commercials. But the song in the background of the commercials for his shows that we viewed on YouTube? My friend was not going to head to bed until I could sing the words with the right intonation and tone. A few tries and I received her okay to stop trying. She says I got it right, I say she couldn’t stand one more round of my singing and was tired, it was well past midnight.

She headed off to the bedroom “nook” (if you’ve seen my apartment you know what I’m talking about) and had turned off the light by the time I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Wouldn’t you know it, I just couldn’t get that tune out of my head. Something about the way the words boomed out, the expression on my friend’s face as she tried to imitate the baritone singer, and my misinterpretation of what was being said in the ad had grabbed my funny bone and wouldn’t let it go. To the point that I was laughing so hard that I thought I would choke on my toothbrush. I has assumed that my friend might already be asleep, so I was trying to do so soundlessly.

I thought I was doing a bang-up job of keeping pretty quiet until I opened the bathroom door. By that time I was laughing so hard I could barely stand, and certainly couldn’t take another step. Trying to stifle it was making it so much worse. I leaned against the wall certain that I was going to fall over or collapse to the ground if I didn’t steady myself.

My friend, turns out, was still awake. And alarmed. She interpreted the muffled giggles as sobbing and called out to ask if I was okay.

All I could get out was…”The Ma-HAN They…” “The Ma-HAN…”  After what seemed liked minutes I was finally able to slow down the chortling and snorting and shuffle off to bed. My shoulders still heaving, a huge smile on my face, I turned off the light and thought about how lucky I am to still laugh like that, and how grateful I was to have had my best friend with me to share the giggle with that night.

My friend called a short while ago from her home in Halifax. A quick glance at the call display assured me that I was safe in answering the phone with “The Ma-HAN they called…” I didn’t make it to the last word this time either.