When I was eight years old, my mother had her first heart attack. After my father brought her home from the hospital, her fat heart specialist came to see how she was doing. He visited with her for about ten minutes, and then, on his way out of the house, he grabbed my right arm, leaned his sweaty face against my cheek, and whispered in my ear, Don't ever argue with your mother-you might kill her. I didn't know what to make of that, except that I could kill my mother if I got angry with her. The other thing he said was: Try to make her laugh. So I tried. It was the first time I ever consciously tried to make someone laugh.
At the age of eight, the author experienced a significant event when his mother suffered her first heart attack. Upon her return from the hospital, a peculiar heart specialist visited her. During his brief visit, he conveyed an alarming message to the author, suggesting that his arguments with his mother could have serious consequences for her health. This statement instilled in him a sense of fear regarding his interactions with her.
The doctor's advice also encouraged the author to focus on bringing joy to his mother by making her laugh. This marked a turning point as it was the first time he consciously attempted to elicit laughter from someone. The experience not only deepened his understanding of the impact of his behavior on his mother's well-being but also initiated his journey toward a profound connection through humor and care.
