Why So Serious?
The phrase “why so serious?” is powerful, but it can be jarring. In the 2008 film The Dark Knight, the late Heath Ledger gives a legendary performance as the Joker. In one scene, he is giving a monologue about his father. He says:
Do you wanna know how I got these scars? My father was a drinker...and a fiend. And one night, he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not...one...bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, "Why so serious?" He comes at me with the knife - "Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth - "Let's put a smile on that face!" And... why so serious?
The scene is essential in understanding the Joker, but it also is heartbreaking for anyone either is a parent, or has a parent. The smile on the Joker’s face is not real, and through his pain comes violence and more. Have you ever tried to smile through the pain? We often present ourselves as “okay” when the opposite is true.
The same phrase is used in recording artist Pink’s 2010 song Raise Your Glass. Right before the chorus in this catchy song (warning: song contains offensive language), Pink sings:
Don't be fancy, just get dancy
Why so serious?
The song continues with an upbeat chorus:
So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways
All my underdogs
We will never be never be, anything but loud
And nitty gritty dirty little freaks
Won't you come on and come on and raise your glass
Just come on and come on and raise your glass
Pink has said this song is about those who don’t fit into the regular crowd. Most of you who read this will identify with that statement to some degree, which is why a song like this is so fun and powerful.
I have grown to appreciate the phrase by which I have titled this blog post, one that is packed with meaning:
Why so serious?
Right now I’m in an inexpressibly hard season of parenting. I have one daughter halfway through college but fighting to find her place and searching for a new school to continue her education. Yet another daughter heads into her final year of high school and is feeling the pressure of big life choices on the horizon. The other daughter has been fighting the isolation that came from virtual school, an evolving identity, and the emotional highs and lows of being 14.
At the risk of too many culture references, I’m reminded of the 1995 movie The American President. At the end of the movie, President Andrew Shepherd, played by Michael Douglas, gives a powerful speech, and in it he declares:
We have serious problems to solve, and we need serious people to solve them.
I get it. The world is in a rough place. The pace is quickening as we try to cram an unreasonable amount of experiences into our lives as we abruptly exit from the covid-19 pandemic. Demands are increasing, isolation can no longer be justified, mental health struggles are coming to light, and politics are in the most ridiculous place I can remember. There are too many funerals, too many tears, too many heartaches.
it seems callous and heartless to ask the question again:
Why so serious?
Last month I bought a Bird Air Scooter. It’s the least expensive of the Bird models, and I wish I was able to buy a more powerful one, especially since I’m carrying the “Covid-19,” as in extra pounds. It’s been fun to ride this electric scooter to work and on a few other short trips.
A friend of mine learned of the scooter and commented “you’re so fun!”
I confess to you that I am not so fun. I can be, but I am not. Let’s call a spade a spade here. At my best, I’m borderline hilarious. I get it mostly from my father, though my mom is good for a chuckle from time to time, but let’s get back to the point.
Recently I’ve been anything but fun, and it’s taken its toll. Overachieving, frantic pace, starting early, finishing late, go go go. I’m failing and I know it. I told one of my daughters that her mom and I would have an important conversation with her, and then it got pushed back a day. Then a week. Then a day and another day. My wife is in the hardest part of her schooling (starting year two of a two year Physical Therapy Assistant program) and I’m just trying to do everything except what’s most important. I have to remember that hustle is an act of focus, not frenzy. I get it, I’m just not doing it. It has left me wondering:
Why so serious?
With respect to fake President Shepherd, we need to lift our gaze from the serious problems and take a break from being serious people. The cost of not doing this might end up being one we cannot afford to pay. It has been for me, as I talked to my daughter tonight in the midst of one of the hardest seasons of her life, and kicked myself for taking too long to be where my feet are.
I could be alone here, but it just might be possible that others find themselves in this place.
I don’t want to stay in this situation. If Michael Douglas can pretend to be the President, maybe I can pretend to be a Doctor and write myself a prescription. Here it goes.
20 Ways to Actually Enjoy Life
Hang out with my girls with no agenda but fun.
Blast music in the car.
Write a rap song (you know you want this to happen).
Do something spontaneous.
Get a slush once a week with whoever wants to.
Chase the dog around the yard.
Recover from the dog chasing with a Coke with grenadine.
Scream like a Muppet.
Walk in the woods.
Make my wife laugh.
Fix something that’s broken.
Read a book for fun.
Have people over regularly.
Go to Chicago and be a tourist.
Be active every day.
Go to a live baseball game.
Give something away.
Call my mom.
Write a letter to encourage someone.
Get a tattoo.
Ehhh that last one might be too far and could scream “mid-life crisis” but you get the point.
Your list might look different. I actually hope it does. Then again, you might be crushing it right now, and if so good for you. That’s outstanding. I can’t help but to think of Sarah Maddack, who is a TikTok Creator with more than a million followers. We had a conversation recently and she said her life motto is not to take herself so seriously. Crazy how she can do that and still live a life of faith and purpose. She’d ask that question:
Why so serious?
I’ll never be as fun as some people. I just want to be more Grover and less Bert or Oscar the Grouch. For those in Generation Z, I should tell you those are characters from a show called Sesame Street.
That’s an obvious sign I should end this. Thanks for reading, and if you care - thanks for caring. Know you are not alone. Let’s work together to stop taking ourselves too seriously. I can’t help but to think we won’t regret it.