KEEP IT TIGHT

When I was a kid, I would often say to my mother, "I feel funny" and mom, in typical mom fashion, would reply, "Do you mean funny bad or funny ha ha?" Of course, she knew and I knew that I always meant funny bad, but being the quintessential ball buster that she was, mom always threw in the funny haha for her own amusement. Had she known at the time that I would actually wake up one day, feel funny ha ha, drop out of college and spend the rest of my adult life making a meager living telling dick jokes, I think she would have been more sympathetic to the funny bad. Or, at the very least, spent more time and energy cultivating the funny ha ha.

I miss my mom. I miss her terribly. It's been 15 years since she passed away and thinking of her still makes me feel funny bad.

I recently watched a videotape copy of the 8mm movies my parents took when my sibings and I were kids. Talk about your emotional rollercoaster! There should be a sign next to my VCR that says, "Your self-esteem must be this high to ride." (Rimshot, please!) I did, however, learn three very important things from watching the tape: 1. I come from a long line of people who die. 2. Children squint when bright camera lights are shined in their faces. 3. My hair only got brushed at Easter.

I miss my mom. I miss my grandmom... my grandpop...my Aunt Jen and my cousin Bobby... my uncle... my dog... all of them... gone. And it was surreal to look at their happy faces-- or in my dog's case, her wagging tail-- knowing the various tragedies that would befall each of them a relatively short time later. So much for the funny ha ha.

Still, I enjoyed watching the tape. The most fascinating part was seeing myself as a baby. To say that I was as cute as a button is an insult because, quite frankly, there has never been a button made that is as cute as Baby Traci. Unless of course, the button has my picture on it, then, maybe, you'd have a case.

In two hours, I gained tremendous insight. I was surprised to see how fearless and independent I was as a child and how amazingly I handled my failures with humor and grace. In other words, I fell, laughed, got back up and tried again. In fact, that's all I really did for the first two years of my life. Oh sure, I would occasionally wave or clap hands for daddy, but the rest of it was just falling and laughing. I fell on the beach. I fell on the porch. I fell at the zoo. I laughed. I got back up. I fell again. I blew kisses. I fell. Gee, it sounds an awful lot like the life I lead today.

I was also stunned by how much I was adored by the people around me. Screw Raymond! Everybody Loved Traci! I was never more than a few inches away from an adult who would rub my head or kiss my cheek or just gaze upon me lovingly. Even the other kids were nice to me. Kids are never nice to other kids. I once heard David Letterman say that as children, comics were either loved too much or too little. I was beginning to think that he had a point.

I remember laughing a lot as an older child, but the tapes made me realize that humor was part of my education from the beginning. As a toddler, I strutted around the living room wearing men's high top black converse sneakers. (On the wrong feet I might add-- only a brilliant physical comedian would come up with that twist.) My brother and my cousins once encouraged me to hit them on the head with a fake beer bottle as they threw themselves on the floor in mock agony. Oh, boy! Nothing will make a two-year old laugh harder. And the adults around me laughed all the time. Sadly, because regular 8mm didn't have sound, I will never know what they were laughing about.

I studied the tape carefully hoping to figure out why I became a comic and what currently drives me to continue being one. It couldn't just be that I grew up in a funny family. Lots of people grow up in funny families and they actually seek out occupations that pay the bills. Then I saw my eyes at age ten. Nineteen-seventy five was the year my life took a dramatic turn downward. It was also the same year I discovered standup comedy.

At ten, my life went from being funny ha ha to funny bad. The joy I had always known as a child was beginning to disappear. So, where did I find the laughter I once knew? From the standup comics on TV... it's that simple and yes, it's that cliched. At a crucial point in my life, comedy filled a void. I guess, in a way, it still does.

I'm a good comic. I love what I do, so I would hate for anyone to think that I still do standup merely because I can't afford therapy. But, I would be foolish to deny that my past doesn't have something to do with my present.

As a baby, I made people laugh. As a child, I made them laugh harder. Then life got in the way and suddenly making people happy was beyond my control. As a comic, I can control the laughter once again. And as someone who depended on the humor of others to get her through the bad times, I realize the importance of what we, as standup comics, do. I feel like a cancer patient who became an oncologist. I've seen both sides, and I know the real difference between funny bad and funny ha ha.