Laughter’s the best medicine, in both letter and spirit
It has been said that humor heals a nailing human, and getting the four Platonic elements in proper balance was key to wellness for ancient Aegean apothecaries. Finding just the right proportion was a lifelong pursuit for many a Hellenic healer busy into the Aegean eves.
Like Greece, the ancient civilization of China cannot possibly have survived and thrived all these millennia on manna alone, as all work and no play surely make Zacharias (and Mencius) a dull boy. So, I decided to bring some levity to a friend who recently arrived in Beijing and regrettably opted to include me on the invite list to his housewarming party.
Since I knew him to have everything, I jumped at the opportunity because I knew it wasn’t to be one of those awkward affairs where everyone is expected to bring an item, say a divan set or a La-Z-Boy recliner, to help him acclimatize to the place and seamlessly embrace his newly adopted home in the capital.
The fact that my newly-arrived friend is a Shanghai native and relatively familiar with the territory reassured me that I wasn’t expected to strap a 3-meter diagonal wallmounted flat-screen TV to the roof of the Didi, or cram a Carrier air cooler into the trunk on the trek across town to his evening soiree.
So I stuffed two bottles of red wine into my schoolbag — separated from clanging together by a pair of fashionable gift socks — with the dual presents from Bacchus on the front reading: “Product of France”, but on the reverse … “bottled in Jiangsu province”. I taped the greeting card over the latter.
The affair was pleasant enough and convivial, with few introductions needed and most guests also bringing F&B-themed fare to the fully furnished apartment.
Correctly guessing that things should be spiced up a bit, and assuming my friend needed a friendly initiation (i.e. hazing) into his new home by way of producing a few clever chuck-chucks for the assembly, I took a few extra minutes in his closet to pen (yes, actually put ballpoint to parchment) the following note:
“Dear Unit Owner, Congratulations on the purchase of your new apartment! Let me introduce myself. I’m Liu Yonghan, and I produce/direct a local television show called Hebei Hauntings. I’m wondering if it would be possible to film the interior of your unit sometime. Even very briefly? The previous owners were reluctant, and we’re hoping you’ll be more cooperative. We’d also like to interview you (if you’ll allow) to see if you’ve had any experiences with strange sounds/ events so far. Of course, if the spot airs, you have the option of using an alias, or sitting behind a plant to obscure your features, along with voice-concealment technology if you so wish. Due to your new unit’s history with gruesome murders/ suicide, I’m hoping it’s not a sensitive subject? Thanks so much! And should you agree to the interview and camera crew, please provide a suitable time, and if convenient, kindly state your religious beliefs, if any, so that certain precautionary measures can be taken to protect all parties involved. Once again, many thanks and I look forward to hearing from you! Sincerely, Yonghan 135-XXXX-XXXX.”
As the congregation was busy enjoying Chaoyang district under the lights on the balcony, I took the opportunity to place the handwritten note on my friend’s threadbare doormat, which was adorned with a bowl of fruit and what looked like a fog-enshrouded hillock.
Perhaps I should have gifted him a new doormat.
So when the convivial crowd filed back into the living room, someone eventually noticed the piece of paper near the door, read it with wide eyes and then handed it to my friend.
As the host of the party, and the proud owner of a new apartment, he was less lubricated than most, but not dry-docked enough to help betraying an increasingly furrowed brow as he struggled to decipher my English calligraphy.
Most wrote it off as a prank, or a case of a mistaken postal recipient.
Consummate host that he is, my friend rather awkwardly laughed it off and successfully changed the topic by sitting down in front of his keyboard to await song requests.
A week later, he called to thank me for the socks and French wine, and quickly asked if I were free that afternoon.
It seems he was in the middle of moving and was desperate to vacate his apartment posthaste, and requested the services of my well-toned musculature to help him move his furniture to a van waiting below.
“But you only just moved in! Why are you moving out already?” I asked him.
He replied: “Well, Yonghan, the nightly wailing keeps me awake at night, you see.”
There was silence.
“Oh! That was just …” I began. “I know,” he replied. “I recognized your handwriting,” he said, and after an awkward pause, he laughed.
I learned two things. Humor can bond friends closer, as long as it isn’t taken literally.
Also, there’s hope for staving off the artificial intelligence singularity, as HE RECOGNIZED MY SCRIBBLING!