Remembering Our Beloved Comedian
“His kind of talent can be very useful in the corporate world—and even in personal relationships. If we all had it, we would remain friends with all those people whose requests we decline. Mergers and acquisitions would run more smoothly. Separations or estrangements wouldn’t be as acrimonious.”
We wrote this post on behalf of Regan. It belongs to the section, “As Relayed to Us.”
As Relayed to Us
We can’t all be writers. Some of us are better at verbal or visual communication. So when it comes to expressing ourselves in the written word, we prefer to have someone else do it for us.
This section is for people who want to share their experiences but feel more comfortable having us tell their life stories on their behalf. We kept the format in the first person for clarity and continuity purposes.
Our dearest Cousin J looked like an Asian Santa Claus but without the beard and the costume. He had a jolly laugh that rolled off his belly whenever he found something funny, which was often. He had a happy outlook on life seldom held by most people.
An Arsenal of Jokes
He always had a fresh litany of jokes that he rattled off at will. I can never remember a joke when the situation calls for it, so I was impressed with his extemporaneous talent—which, surprisingly, he wasn’t aware of until people pointed it out. We were all surprised that he never thought of making a career out of it.
I asked him once, “How come you know so many jokes? Do you have a joke book/comic/magazine where you get them? Tell me your secret. Do you memorize them?”
“No,” he replied, “they just come out.” There were times when he didn’t tell a joke; just made a statement. But we all laughed simultaneously. Or, one listener would laugh, triggering a domino effect until everyone got cackling.
Laughter, of course, is infectious. (That’s why they integrated it into yoga.) But I think, in that case, it was Cousin J who was infectious… but GOOD infectious. (Not like Covid.) And maybe it was the way he delivered that statement that did it.
The Savvy Negotiator
Showbiz entertainers often talk about comedic timing. Cousin J had this gift. He had the ability to pull up an appropriate joke for each circumstance at the right time and place. For instance, when we were at an outdoor event, somebody very insistent offered to sell him pineapples. He wanted us to buy several, saying he hadn’t made a sale that day. We both didn’t need lots of fruit nor had money to buy them.
After a few repeated “No, thanks,” he told the vendor a pineapple-related joke. The vendor laughed heartily then took off, not at all offended by our non-purchase.
Looking back, it dawned on me that his kind of talent can be very useful in the corporate world—and even in personal relationships. If we all had it, we would remain friends with all those people whose requests we decline. Mergers and acquisitions would run more smoothly. Separations or estrangements wouldn’t be as acrimonious.
Behind Closed Doors
Those who didn’t know Cousin J well enough would have thought that he was living a life of bliss because he was always chipper. But we knew otherwise. Through his frequent visits to our house, we knew he was plagued with lots of problems. He often sought my mother’s (his aunt) counsel because his mother worked in the States and wasn’t able to visit him and his siblings often.
We kids never really pried, but sometimes, we overheard their conversations (mom had a loud voice) and were able to piece things together.
Apart from his other problems, Cousin J had a condition that couldn’t be cured by conventional medicine. Its effects were horrendous and his kids bore the brunt of his reaction to these. It got so bad, there were times he had to be subjected to electroshock therapy. He lost a lot of his hair that way.
Ironically, it wasn’t this condition that killed him. It was diabetes, the same illness that got his wife and my cousin-in-law, Mater D. We all thought it was a result of their passion for food—lots of it. Mater D was a fab cook; Cousin J loved eating. It was a marriage made in culinary heaven.
A Bonafide Union
Cousin J married his college sweetheart. Marrying young meant they weren’t able to finish their studies. Having several kids also meant early, heavy responsibilities. Even though they received some assistance from his mom, they often had to forgo the usual niceties of life.
I got along famously with Mater D. She was gorgeous and had the face of a movie star. Despite this, she didn’t have much confidence in herself. When we were together, nobody paid attention to me. I didn’t mind because she was so fun to be with.
One of the Richest Women on the Planet
Once, after having been gone a long time working overseas, I paid them a visit. Mater D was alone in the house, screaming kids miraculously absent. She said she was enjoying “Me time.” I was relieved she was using this coping tool. A more feeble soul with several children close in age would have been driven absolutely bonkers.
“You should have called,” she said. “I don’t want you to see me this way, miserable and incredibly poor-looking.” (I did call, but her adorable pumpkins obviously didn’t deliver the message.)
“My dear Mater D, why do you feel this way? You are one of the wealthiest women I know. You have what so many people don’t have: energetic kids, a doting husband, cooking abilities to rival Martha Stewart, a home without a mortgage (auntie had paid for it in cash), and relatives like me who care about you. Do you know how many people in the world want kids but can’t have them?”
Actually, I didn’t know the answer to that because who has the time to wade into census and statistics? But facts wouldn’t have made a difference to her. Kind words were all she needed. She immediately brightened after our talk, enough to dress up and join me for a girls’ day out.
Whenever she and Cousin J fought, we went shopping. She wasn’t interested in talking about her problems, which was fine with me. Since I was much younger than both of them, I didn’t feel it was my place to give marital advice.
I paid for all our purchases because she often didn’t have spending money. Again, I didn’t mind because I was also benefiting from our retail therapy. Plus, it was obviously a beneficial form of escape for her.
The Reunion
Cousin J and Mater D had a tumultuous relationship but their union held true to the vow, “Till death do us part.” Staying married may be common among the baby boomers and previous generations, but these two weren’t old, by any means. God just called them earlier. Cousin J may have outlived his wife but now, we assume they have reunited (and, hopefully, are not fighting anymore).
Funny Idols
Before he died, Cousin J introduced me to standup comedy. Through him, I got to know some of the funniest comedians in the circuit. At first, I was shocked by how racist their jokes were and marveled at how they got away with it. Nevertheless, the puns were hilarious, the delivery, impeccable, and the timing, spot on.
After listening to their initial wisecracks, however, I understood. These comedians escaped being maligned by the “political correctness watchdogs” because they were making fun of groups of people to whom they belonged. In a weird, unorthodox way, they were celebrating their individual heritage through their jokes.
For a while there, I thought, “Aha! I have finally discovered the source of Cousin J’s jokes!” But later, I realized that his jokes were nothing like his idols’, which focused mostly on their ethnic heritage.
Cousin J’s rib-ticklers were centered around the relationship or interaction between inanimate objects (mainly his favorite foods like pork scratchings and barbecued spare ribs) and either fast-moving structures (race cars, speed boats, Roadrunners) or slow-moving creatures (turtles, slugs, snails, Wile E. Coyote).
More accurate, I think, was that I had stumbled upon Cousin J’s secret. Those comedians were his weapons against depression and loneliness. Their shows were possibly what helped him cope with his problems. They must have been the reason for his upbeat disposition.
Comedic Bequest
Two years have gone by since Cousin J left us, but his comedic legacy remains. I’ve carried on this informal endowment by introducing the works of his favorite comedians to friends and colleagues. To this day, whenever I’m troubled and feel the need to escape, I stream his idols’ shows and watch them make people happy… just as Cousin J did, once upon a time.
Final Thoughts
What did we learn from Cousin J? That despite all the hardships in life, it is possible to maintain a positive outlook—and, in turn, rub it off on others. Granted, it takes a certain kind of personality to carry this out successfully, but most of us can manage a semblance of it if we dare to make an effort.
Pre-pandemic, whenever our family got together, we reminisced about Cousin J and enjoyed a delightful chuckle even without anyone being funny. Even today, we all wonder if he’s still rattling off his jokes in the greatest comedy club in the sky and making its residents laugh as he once made us.
Cousin J’s heroes:
Gabriel “Fluffy” Iglesias — Mexican-American
Russell Peters — Indo-Canadian
Jo Koy — Filipino-American
Maz Jobrani — Iranian-American
Joe Wong, Ronny Chieng, and Jimmy Yang — Chinese-Americans
Dr. Ken Jeong and Randall Park— Korean-American actors
Photo Credits:
Mime—Annalise Art
Animals reading—Clker Free Vector Images
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