Last week, everything came to a screeching halt all because I caught a nasty cold. It wasn’t cancer or Covid or a car wreck. Just a cold.
And as I laid in bed too wrung out to care about writing, I thought about Lauren Hillenbrand, author of Seabiscuit and Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. You may not know this, but she suffered from a debilitating illness throughout her adulthood and still managed to write blockbuster books that turned into multi-million-dollar movies.
Then I remembered a blog post I wrote a couple of years ago about Erma Bombeck, another successful writer who powered through challenges most people never even knew about. I’m reposting it below because I obviously don’t have the resiliency of these two amazing authors.
Laughter is the Best Medicine
Most people were shocked when the quintessential funny guy Robin Williams committed suicide. How could someone so gifted at making people laugh be so sad and broken inside? It’s easy to assume that funny people are happy people, but this isn’t necessarily true. Some of the greatest artists are inspired by deep emotional pain. I know my own writing didn’t have any depth until I went through a season of great loss.
When I was growing up, my mom was a huge fan of Erma Bombeck. Do you know who she is? She was a humorist, which means it was her job to make people laugh. Not a stand-up comedian, but a writer of a syndicated newspaper column. Before her death, she wrote over 4,000 newspaper articles which were published in more than 900 newspapers (three times a week) in the United States and Canada. This Midwestern housewife reached over 30 million people! It’s mind-boggling to think about, isn’t it? 30 million people read her work. I should be so blessed.
I was thinking about her the other day for some odd reason—divine inspiration, maybe? I remembered parts of a quote she wrote for a book, and I ended up delving into her history a little. Her articles (and several books) focused on the humorous aspects of middle-class life after World War II.
After she was married, she was told she would most likely not be able to conceive children (my mother was told the same thing, and she had five kids). She and her husband adopted a little girl and then proceeded to have two natural-born children of their own. Just goes to show, doctors aren’t gods.
Erma’s first book is one I remember seeing at home when I was growing up—The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank. It was released in 1976 and became a best-seller, which led to a million-dollar contract for her fifth book, If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pitts? and a 700,000-copy advance for her 1979 book Aunt Erma’s Cope Book. This is an incredible success, and I’m only touching on the surface of all she did.
Back in the 70s, there wasn’t access to information by merely plugging a question into the Google search bar, and private lives were just that—private. We accepted most things at face value because that was all we had. But now? We’re cautioned to cover the camera on our computers because anybody can be watching us through that lens. I don’t bother because anyone who dares to enter my private space would die of boredom. I would say their demise is a natural consequence of their poor behavior.
I am in awe of naturally funny people. It’s a gift, don’t you think? Not only to see humor in everything but to be able to communicate it in a way that makes people laugh. And who doesn’t love to laugh? But what the world didn’t know back then was that Erma dealt with health issues her entire adulthood. Not only did she have breast cancer and undergo a double mastectomy, but she’d been diagnosed with a genetic kidney disease at the age of twenty. This required her to undergo daily dialysis. Daily. After waiting on the transplant list for years, one of her kidneys had to be removed, and the other ceased to function. She finally received a kidney transplant only to die a few weeks later from complications of the surgery. During that time, she was still writing articles.
Many people would spend their days grumbling about the unfairness of it all. Not Erma. She rose above the difficulties and used her gifts to bless others. She died at the age of 69 (which was my mom’s age when she passed away) and left a huge legacy of hard work, humor, and resiliency. What an inspiration, don’t you think?
I’m including the quote I referenced earlier from her 1979 book Eat Less Cottage Cheese and More Ice Cream: Thoughts on Life from Erma Bombeck
“If I had my life to live over…
Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything.
My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.
If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.
I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television … and more while watching real life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.
I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for a day.
I would never have bought ANYTHING just because it was practical/wouldn’t show soil/ guaranteed to last a lifetime.
When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now, go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more I love yous … more I’m sorrys … more I’m listenings … but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it … look at it and really see it … try it on … live it … exhaust it … and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it.”
My prayer for you (and me) is to take to heart this inspiring message of living life to its fullest.
