After all, we were neighbors. You and your little schnauzer with the gray short-cut hair. What was his name, I forget? You, past your prime comedic and acting years but still very vital and witty in these, your later years.
You had the gray hair of an elder statesman. You were rather short, not looking tall even to me, just a young boy, and at ease with yourself after accomplishing so much in your life. I still see you and your brothers on the silver screen. It’s on reruns and in theatres and at festivals, and has influenced an age, an entire attitude, the tragedy/comedy, the other half of the whole, like a yin/yang balancing act.
All of our family, the whole Mischpoke, seems to have grown up on humor, laughing, telling a joke or a pun, playing the fool, being funny, being a little cynical, teasing, playing practical jokes, telling a story. What else was there, what with our past history? Just what was your home like and how was your upbringing portrayed in real life, compared to the other life on the stage, the actors milieu, Hollywood, where I was born?
“Well, Jesse-boy,” Chico chimes in. “You always have to look on the bright side of things. Life can throw you a curve ball, throw you for a loop, if you know what I mean. It’s the ability to take sides with the lighter side of life and balance all of life’s dramas and tragedies with wit, with intelligent pranks or the poking of fun at someone or some situation, that helps us get through life. One can always mope around, feel sorry for oneself and be angry and vindictive or hurtful and disappointed, the way things are going.”
“But I believe we have a responsibility to be the best person we can, to just be human. The comedian holds up a mirror to himself, for others to look at. The clown is willing to sacrifice himself and wear a costume, to hide his real face in a mask of fun and levity.”
Chico continued in earnest, “This is great, I love to help people feel good. I love children like yourself, who need to find something to laugh about and enjoy. Just be yourself. Be like you already are, like a child. Life is hard enough. Hey, have you ever heard the one about . . .” continued Chico, or should I say Mr. Marx?
He proceeded to talk on and on, and tell me stories only a few random images of which I still remember. I never remember a story or joke to retell it to someone else anyway.
I knew this was Mr. Marx, because someone had shown me his house, an unassuming small dwelling in the wealthier part of town. What we were doing there, a middle-class family, I didn’t know. Anyway, this man seemed like an angel to me. This famous person who treated me like one of his own. We used to chat just about regular things in life, like how I was feeling about school, the weather — you know, just your typical conversations and child-to-adult stuff.
There was this infectious, genuine smile and aura about him. I wonder why to some people it seemed he was not so tall, but I still had to look up at him. He had this kind of magic, this charisma, this success-in-living. I didn’t know anything about his personal life, nor had I read anything about him. I just had this feeling as if he were a guardian angel, looking only after me. Our meetings were perfectly random and usually involved the same setting on the street next to our house, with Mr. Marx walking his little dog. We met under that palm tree. Now his brother Groucho, that was another man entirely, an altogether different psyche.
I later read about his two-sidedness and meanness, but I would never suspect Chico of having that hidden side. I still remember him today, and laugh when I see the films and how remarkable it was that these Jewish brothers, the Marx Brothers, could bring tears of laughter to everyone’s eyes. They are still current and timeless, worldwide. Relevant and healing. Laughter, humor, is contagious, if we let it in. If we get out of the way, it can come through us. We don’t have to do anything, just be there. The human comedy. It’s a real relief from the serious and tragic sides of life, from the angst, the melodrama, the side of the coin where tragedy and comedy meet. The famous masks of the theater, looking in the mirror at each other.
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