Dennis Sommers

A 15-year Norwegian study of 53,556 men and women completed in 2016 claimed a link between humor and mortality. Laughing women had 48% less risk of death from all causes, 73% lower risk of death from heart disease and an 83% lower risk of death from infection. Men who chortled could expect less risk of death from infection but might suffer consequences from laughing at a woman’s outfit (a personal observation).

Oddly enough, folks at Yale University likewise ran out of things to research. They opted to track 3,635 folks for 12 years, monitoring how much time they spent reading. Their 2016 conclusion was those who read an average of 30 minutes a day live 23 months longer than those who read less, or not all. Checking text messages, email or closed caption translations of foreign Netflix movies don’t count.

Perhaps those of you working on your own 30-minute goal will recall learning to read. Of course, a prerequisite to reading anything more than a coloring book was typically taught both at home and at school via singing of the ABCs. I was rather slow to catch on to this, since it took me a while to realize ellamenohpea was five letters, not one. Dick and Jane and their dog Spot books in second grade were also challenging. Up until then, Spot had been something Mother always told me she had to clean off the bathroom floor when I stood too far from the stool.

With help from Miss Kibler in third grade, spelling one syllable words became possible. Multisyllable word ineptitude raised its ugly head, however, when Kibler masterminded a third grade Spelling Bee. She had everyone stand up, then explained she would ask each student to spell a word. If we got it right, we could continue to stand. If we didn’t, we had to sit down. After Larry Solomon nailed his word (probably supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, since he became a Kansas District Court Judge) I was next to be called upon. Miss Kibler said, “Now, Dennis, spell ‘money.'” Of course this was one of those diabolical multisyllable words. She told me to sit down after a pathetic “m, o, n, y” effort. I officially became a dunce cap candidate.

Honing reading skills during subsequent years, I mastered Dick and Jane books then moved on to Mad Magazine with hopes of being cool like Alfred E. Newman. When pubescence arrived, the study of human anatomy found in certain magazines that required little or no reading became a priority. Later, I mistakenly thought two years of reading high school Latin would be useful toward pursuit of a career in dentistry. As it turned out, “Gallia est omnes divisa en partes tres” had nothing to do with bicuspids, molars or the price of tea in China.

A bit further down the road, a college class dedicated to the study of Shakespeare brought appreciation for the written word. Class one day focused on “The Comedy of Errors” and the professor’s favorite line it contained — “His goods confiscate to the Duke’s dispose.” The prof lectured for a yawn-filled hour, expounding his analysis why pronunciation of the third word in the phrase must, by necessity, have been “con-fis-kit” in the 1600s. Otherwise, it would never roll eloquently off an Elizabethan actor’s rhythmic tongue.

Thanks to laughter and reading research by the esteemed Elis of Yale and our Norwegian comrades, we can rest easy knowing that an extra 23 or more months might be tacked onto our earthly existence. I’ll continue to look for humor in newspaper comics, the occasional Dave Barry book, episodes of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and my golf game.

As for Miss Kibler’s and Shakespeare’s guidance with words, I have not misspelled “money” since 1958 and upon occasion utter an eloquent Shakespeareish version of Alfred E. Newman’s axiom, “What? Me worry, eh?”

Sommers is a retired Minot orthodontist, violinist with the Minot Symphony and author of the book, “Retirement? You Can’t HANDLE the Truth!”