“Should we make fun of each other?” Yes!

I adore my family. I really do. No matter how much I might complain—mostly about my sister and how she irks my soul—I do love all my family members. 

Sometimes I’ll hear stories from other Eastern students where it sounds like their families are the most supportive—drop everything at a moment’s notice to help with even the smallest things—people. I can’t say my family wouldn’t help out if I really needed it, but it’s typically a more involved process than just asking. Asking would always lead to convincing. Convincing involves negotiating and negotiating only works half the time. 

My family is a lot to deal with sometimes, outside of a reluctance to offer assistance. You know that cliché of “if someone is mean to you, it means they like you?” Take that idea, and evolve it. Take the type of puppy love felt by children, and turn it into a love that holds a family together. That’s exactly how my family works.

My stepfather is a great example of what I mean. I know that if I go back to the house, it’s only a matter of time before my stepfather walks up to me saying, “Wanna see something funny?” Then he’ll say something controversial loudly enough for my sister to hear. Somehow he always knows what to say that will get a reaction out of her. She always walks into the room, yelling and trying to explain to both of us that whatever comment we made wasn’t funny. I don’t always participate, but sometimes I’ll play along. Either way, I was roped into my sister’s wrath.

My extended family operates similarly. So when my mom told me she was going to invite all of my aunts, uncles and cousins to my 21^st birthday party, I knew it would not be boring. I asked my mom if I could invite some of my friends too, but she said, “If you think they can handle it.” I thought of the people I would have invited. A few of my lifelong friends came to mind, but then I remembered memories of them getting upset after my grandfather commented on them at the last party they came to. It wasn’t a malicious comment. He said, “What are you, Colin’s shadow?” and subsequently referred to them as “shadow” for the rest of the day. That upset my friends, so I decided not to invite them this time. They understood.

My 21^st birthday party started great. My stepfather got me a slushie that contained some sort of alcohol. As people showed up, each and every one of them held a bottle and said, “Happy birthday! I bought something for us!” I taste-tested a little bit of everything that people brought, so when 6 pm rolled around I was already a little tipsy. I was standing outside, trying to explain the book I read for my Memoir class to one of my uncles, when I saw a friend from work walking up the driveway. 

I didn’t know how to feel when I saw Joey. I was excited to see him. I was worried what would happen when he met my family. He knew my mom and sister, but had not met my drunk extended family. But I had faith in Joey. Working with him was similar to being with my family. Joey was witty, and that was going to help him survive. 

We walked into the house. I got everyone’s attention and announced, “Everyone, this is Joey from work!” My family uninterestedly mumbled greetings back, but when Joey spoke everyone perked up. “Ello everyone,” Joey said with his British accent. 

Joey quickly grew accustomed to interacting with my family. After my aunts poured shots of Screwball for everyone, they set a little game. The game involved dice and money. Each person rolled the dice and the money moved around the table based on what the result was. It was a gambling game. A gambling game played by a few drunk people, some of my younger cousins, and a British man. 

I was originally worried that the introduction of alcohol would make my family meaner. I could not have been more wrong. They still made snide remarks, but Joey was able to take it and dish them back. In fact, he was able to do it better. I only remember bits and pieces of when we played the game, but I definitely remember the entire erupting in laughter after Joey said something really funny. It’s a shame I can’t remember what it was. 

Now that I’m done rambling, let me answer the question in the title. I believe we should make fun of each other, but after major consideration, I have come up with two rules: Making fun of someone you don’t know is mean. Making fun of someone you’re close to is fun as long as they are also having fun. A phrase my mom likes to say a lot is: “Laughing at someone is different then laughing with someone.”

So go out there and have fun, just make sure the other people around you are enjoying themselves too!