Complexity, Incongruity and Connection

And why I love comedians.

My husband was born to be lawyer, builds museum-quality ship models, and is an expert on the history of Porsche, hiking trails in the White Mountains, and the travels of Hobo Shoestring.

Scratch the surface of anyone you dare know well, and you find complexity, incongruity, contradiction. It’s what keep me endlessly fascinated with the work I do, and the science of human psychology (not to mention my husband).

This week Jon Stewart conducted an hour -long interview with a break- out Senate candidate here in Maine, a newcomer about whom I wanted to learn more. The interview ranged widely, surprised them both at moments, and left me confused and delighted.

It also reminded me why comedians are having a moment. Why we are defending Jimmy Kimmel, and Steven Colbert, and even Bill Maher, when he isn’t driving me crazy.

Comedians live in the ambiguity. They highlight the contradictions. And make absurdity out of pomposity. And then they make us laugh.

They remind us again that we are all just human.

In this political moment, when the vivid black and white of politics seems reflected everywhere we look, we’re all in need of that reminder.

But it is not just the laughs we’re protecting, or the delightful privilege of making fun of those who lead, or even the free speech value we are determined to protect.

When I listen to stand-up comedians, I’m protecting hope.

I’m lapping up the uncertainty, the absurdity, and the contradictions beneath the laughter. Those are the truths that tell me to breathe, and loosen my anger, and soften my despair. We are all afraid to fail, to look foolish, to be wrong. We are all, in our convoluted way, just trying to get it right.

When Antonin Scalia and Ruth Bader Ginsberg got together, they talked opera. It was a passion for them both, and sometimes, not always, their discussions softened their certainty that the other was entirely wrong about everything else.

When I met a parent with a chip on his shoulder in a school consult, ready to hear bad news about his child, I’d sometimes ask “Tell me something I’d never guess about you.” With a smile. Mainers are quick, and funny, and rarely did I not a get startled, “I’m the best damn xyz-er in my family.” It didn’t matter what, but it usually made me laugh. Sometimes they turned the request around, and we were equals. But either way, it changed the atmosphere and the expectations between us.

I have been in desperate need of hope this past month. An endless winter flu, along with Maine mud season (known as spring elsewhere in the country) have worn down my perennial insistence that goodness will prevail.

So, I found the Graham Plattner interview refreshing. He was more than, different from, unexpectedly not the same as I had imagined. I left rejuvenated just because of that. Uncertainty, complexity, possibility.

I’ll keep listening to stand up. I have a long list of favorites.

But maybe I’ll try building hope in small ways as well. With curiosity toward my neighbors, unexpected comments that surprise, even a laugh they don’t expect.

I’ll consider a startled look my reward and my prize.

For soon, much sooner than we think, we’ll all be in this together again, hoping we can pull ourselves up, repair the damage, and bring America home.