Norbit

My father's laugh--not the polite chuckle he sometimes still gives, but an honest to goodness, genuine, that's-funny-as-hell belly laugh--was a big deal to me when I was a kid. His laugh is pretty distinctive, and when it does occur it sounds just like my paternal grandfather. My dad wasn't close to his own father, but he and his old man shared a whole lotta similarities.

The laugh was just one.

I think my dad lived most of his life trying to be different than his father. And for years, I crafted my own personality traits to create obvious distinctions between me and the two of them. My dad is quiet, reclusive and emotionally distant; so, in my 20s I was loud, extroverted and sensitive. While I'm much more balanced now, I do sometimes find myself behaving in ways that remind me of my dad. If I'm not thoughtful of my behavior it feels too natural to be introverted, which typically then causes an overwhelming sense of social awkwardness. Because I don't want that to occur, I'm always on guard for signs that tell me I'm acting like my dad.

Like last night, when I heard his laugh come out of me as I watched Norbit.

It was the same that's-funny-as-hell belly laugh I heard when he was watching a Jerry Lewis movie. Or--and I'm sorry to even bring this example up--the bust-a-gut guffaw he'd let loose when he was watching that Urkle show. (My dad loved him some Urkle. The 500th "Did I do that?" catchphrase was as funny to him as the first time he heard it.) The hijinks of Norbit made me laugh so hard I snorted.

And my laugh was his laugh. Whether I wanted it to be or not.

Dad and I don't talk a lot, so I'm not sure if he's seen Norbit yet. But I hope he does. It's politically incorrect and insensitive on so many levels. But it's funny. One word of advice, though:

Watch it with someone. You'll find it even funnier that way.