Michael Pulley: Tragedy or comedy? Life offers plenty of both

Of Shakespeare's thirty-seven or thirty-eight plays (the exact number is debated), I've never stopped to count how many I've read, let alone ones I think are the best. Of his three play categories — tragedies, comedies, histories — I'm partial to the tragedies and comedies, mostly because I view many of life's experiences as somewhat tragic or somewhat comic. And with most literature, a pleasing blend of the two, in the same work, suits me. Make me laugh/make me cry, often in the same chapter or even page.

In a few of Shakespeare's tragedies, such as Macbeth, he'll toss in a short comic scene to relieve tension or appeal to the "groundlings," who purchased the cheap tickets. And his comedies sometimes border on the tragic before getting back quickly to the comic. Years after Shakespeare, the British poet Lord Byron wrote, "All tragedies are finished in death, all comedies are ended by a marriage," which as a rule applies to Shakespeare's plays. I've no intention here of entering into a discussion of death or marriage, although ... well ... never mind.

But life offers us a fitting share of tragedy and comedy.

For some peculiar reason, as a young kid I enjoyed taunting older boys, thinking I might outrun them or magically avoid getting clobbered. I tried to laugh while they pounded me, but soon learned how dimwitted I was. I goaded the ones I considered heroic in some way, like the town's finest athletes. Did I hope for their superiority to rub off? I once thought I wanted to share in some of it, sometime. As years passed, I kept track of a few childhood heroes and witnessed how their celebrity status diminished for me. The writer F. Scott Fitzgerald, "Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy." Richard Rohr on superiority, "Surrendering superiority, or even a need for such superiority, is central to any authentic enlightenment." A way to avoid tragedy? I'm thinking superiority might easily lead to calamity.

Then there's the comic. A slapstick moment happened at the dinner table when my mother purchased the newfangled Reddi Wip, and while attempting to figure out how the darned thing worked, accidentally sprayed whipped cream directly into my dad's face. She laughed mightily, but he was — how shall I say — not even mildly amused. I witnessed it as serio-comic, mostly siding with Mom. But tragic? Nah.

My mother's mental illness manifested as severe depression, often leaving her limp and nearly helpless, sometimes with irrational outbursts that perplexed my father and me. She was treated for it with electroshock therapy (a 1950s remedy that today would be handled with medication and/or talk therapy) leading to short-term memory loss. Yet, in her elder years she morphed into a loving and pleasant conversationalist — her intellect on fine display.

In his mid- to late seventies my father suffered strokes, replacing his astute and witty repartee with a stunned silence. He sometimes confused one person for another. My mother, brothers and I hardly knew this altered man. He died years before my mother, who even into her ninety-sixth year conversed sharply and clearly with those around her.

My brother Jim said, "Who could have guessed Mom would go sane and Dad insane?" one of the many adroit statements he was known and loved for. And while both brothers were living, we often repeated that line to each other, always smiling but recognizing it as a fitting example of life's never ending comedies and tragedies. A puzzling combination many of us must learn to both enjoy and endure.

Michael Pulley lives in Springfield. He can be reached at mpulley634@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Springfield News-Leader: Michael Pulley: Tragedy or comedy? Life offers plenty of both