Last week, my friend Michael Golden let me share his wonderful piece “Do I fit in?”
For me, humor has always been my go-to emotion. I have used it in many ways to my success and also to my detriment. The one I am most proud of has been, over the past 46 years (Yes. I’m 68. I’ll get to that) being funny and making people laugh because they feel better. Plain and simple. It’s kind of altruistic but it has not been done out of any expectation or to get people to like me. Most of the time, it’s with people I will never see again; in the market, in a bar, in a line somewhere, at a social gathering, and yes..even at a funeral. I am fond of the saying: “you don’t stop laughing when you get old, you get old when you stop laughing.”
Now I have had enough sadness in my life, but I believe if I had let Erica’s death keep me from being happy or optimistic, there would be, in some way, ‘another death.’ My absence from living for one. Humor in its own way got me through it.
My brother Alan and I shared two awards of distinction in high school: I was voted Class Clown and he voted Class Chatterbox, three years apart. For me, humor for the first 19 years of my life was totally about being liked and accepted. I was social. I could fit in anywhere, like Will Rogers but it was the fast track to popularity, and I was good at it. Sure, some could see through it and accept that I had depth. I joke, but it was not a joke, when dating in HS and the first two years of college, I would start with: “you don’t want to go out with me, do you?” If they said ‘no,’ I didn’t have far to fall. If they said ‘yes,’ I was on Cloud Nine.
On October 11, 1972, the veil of humor reared its ugly head. I was sharing a house upstate while attending a small community college with some friends from Plainview. One night, we put on a concert with the veterans from Jefferson Airplane, Hot Tuna. The night of the party at our house, I overindulged. Pot and hashish were my substances of choice, but that night, I added a hit of acid. Big mistake. The next few days were a blur and my roommate ended up driving me back to Long Island. I, to this day, do not recall the drive home, and oddly, I was still hallucinating. I was a thoughtful mess. Until then, I went through life well, writing for the college paper and living what I thought was happy. I was not unhappy, just not in touch. (someone asked if I really wanted to share this story. I told them, “well, I’m not running for office,” and if I was, this might put me over the top with the states that have legalized cannabis!)
Rather than a lecture, my folks suggested therapy. As a community college dropout, I had nothing better to do. I got a job as a shipping ‘cluck’ at a company called Arrow Electronics during the day and saw a shrink at night. I told him I was still hallucinating, telling him I would walk up a flight of stairs in my house, turn around, see myself walking up the stairs, and then ‘melding’ with me in a Dr. Spock mind-meld kind of thing. He explained the drugs had left my system days after taking them and there was something else going on. No surprise to me.
As we ‘went inside my head,’ it became apparent there were ‘two’ versions of me. The one who was there only to make people laugh and the other, the one with my own issues, and doubts that were causing the conflict. People always shared their deep personal thoughts with me and I was great at helping them but for me, I felt I had no one to talk to. That was the misfire. I trusted a few people until then with my thoughts but most wanted a laugh from me. Obviously, they were the wrong people but I obliged and it shut me down as a sharer. I put on the show for them.
About eleven months after my episode, in the Fall of 1973, I decided to go back to college, applying to and getting accepted at American University where I pursued a career in radio and journalism. I worked at the college radio station, secured an internship as the DC stringer for a LI radio station, being one of the very few college students to cover the 1973-74 House Impeachment Hearings, doing weekends at a country station and interning in the media. I also had my first serious romantic relationship there and was able to express and be myself. October 11, 1972, was the last time I got high, coming up on 50 years this Fall. The first few years, I was afraid to even take one toke over the line. After that, it was I didn’t care to. It was fine for others, not for me.
No rehab, no program. Just honest dialogue. That is what got me straight in my outlook. It made me a better listener and sharer. I was prepared for anything, though there is no such thing as a normal life, there’s just ‘life.’ Marriage, divorce, dating (which at MTV was like shooting fish in a barrel), and being a Dad at 29. I was working in a world of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll, I chose two out of the three! And it was my humor and a holistic, optimistic view through re-marriage to my love Hope, a career to be proud of, my loss of Erica, my fathers-in-law, my parents, and my 2014 battle with cancer, whose ass I kicked, that got me through the worst. Humor had evolved to become a guide and a friend, not an escape or a façade.
When I ask people about me in my early years, some have said I was funny, but I had a sensitive side and a few saw that, and I remain grateful for their friendship. They know who they are.
So when asked by people who read Michael Golden’s wonderful piece, ‘do I-Barry Kluger- fit in,’ I would answer in the affirmative. I fit into any situation or society because now I use my humor to break the barriers of tension we experience in our everyday lives and it is now for the right reasons. It’s part of my fabric, not a schtick. I don’t need to be liked. but it sure feels nice. I let people in and have since those days nearly half a century ago and they accept the balance of laughs—and love.
I believe the glass is always half full and though I could use life’s setbacks to challenge that, I don’t. I choose not to, and I think that as I approach 70 in a little more than a year from now, there’s no chance I will ever do that, no matter what is thrown at me. I may stumble but I won’t fall. The good news is I know many will be there as I will be for them. No one is as tall as when they stoop down to help a friend. And that’s a pretty good fit.
I love this piece! I can relate: years ago a guy I knew from Lynbrook told me that I used humor to hide behind. I said, “No, I use humor to communicate.”
Hi Barry,
I just stumbled upon Klugertown and fell down the rabbit hole reading your blogs.
In 2023, I am interviewing older adults (50+) who are inspiring, who have experienced incredible things (so far) and who embrace aging as they live through it.
I would love to connect.
Karina@getsetup.io