Growing up in the late 60's, early 70's a fond memory is staying up late (sorry, Mom, if you are finding this out for the first time) to watch The Johnny Carson Show with my grandmother, aka "Nana".
Nana would sit on her worn out recliner with the woollies popping out like frozen peas out of a broken Ziploc, light up Pall Mall one after the other, and chug down her Manhattan's like they were lemon seltzers.
And, I would lie waiting with awe on the dilapidated red couch right next to her.
And, we would just laugh out loud until our stomachs hurt. We would be too weak to get up at the nearest commercial and venture to the nearby bathroom in time...No, many a night, I just went pee in my pants...yes, right there on that dilapidated red couch! Oh, Mom, I am so sorry if this news is brand new to you ;)
I would just dangle on the edge of that red braided couch while the threat burned my skin as I just enthralled myself with Johnny and Ed's banter. Johnny would say something, Ed would sling something back, and Johnny just had classic non-verbal responses that caused me to just melt with a pain in my tummy that felt like a roller coaster had gone mad in my small intestine. It was such a glorious time; a glorious experience.
Laughter is my "go to" medicine and therapy. When I am experiencing a tough day, challenge, or experience, I tilt my head, pretend to place my head on Nana's red couch right armrest, set my eyes upon the colorful TV screen, and ready myself for Ed to yell "Heeeeeeeeeeres Johnny!" Wow! The Gift of Guffaw!
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