Why Be Wacky?

My father used to always make us laugh growing up. He would tell funny jokes, one liners, funny stories and always seemed to be entertaining. My mom would always play music especially during a thunder storm. When the music was over, the thunder disappeared. My house was magical.

After I grew up, I became a Pediatric Nurse and used all kinds of funny things or toys in my practice to help ease children's fears and make their life fun even though they were in the hospital and sometimes very sick. I became real good at it. I would look for ways to become "outrageous" and bring life into people's worlds.

When I met Patch Adams I knew that I wasn't alone. Being "wacky" had a sacredness to it and I saw how it changed people's lives.

Once a fifth grader said to me, "Nurse Donna, you're not wacky today". I smiled when she began to explain how I had been just "ordinary" that day and not my wacky self. It was then I realized that being the "clown" or being "wacky" became an expectation and that when people saw me they wanted to have that "good feeling" all over.

When I was just plain Nurse Donna they didn't have that.

I went to Gesundheit! Institute and re-established who I was. I was transformed into "Gesoonie" the clown and I am featured in the documentary film "The Real Patch Adams". So far I have clowned on two continents (hoping to hit all of them!) and enjoy clowning and lecturing on humor.

Come join me and help transform the world........

Donna Marie Laino

P.S. I still laugh at my dad's same jokes when I hear someone tell them. Dad has passed on but I remember the jokes! We relive our time with dad each time we think of them! I miss you dad but I smile when I think of you. I am a chip off the old block. I feel honored to have been inspired by you. Thank you for being yourself. It has allowed me to be who I am and I am touching many people because of it.

I am spreading the JOY, one smile at a time!

Friday, April 18, 2008

Humor In Church


One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the foyer
of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names with
small American flags mounted on either side of it.

The seven year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly:

'Good morning Alex'.

'Good morning Pastor,' he replied, still focused on the plaque. 'Pastor, what is this?' - he asked.

The pastor said: - 'Well, son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.'

Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque.


Finally, little Alex's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear, asked:

'Which service, the 9:30 or 11:00?



Live Joyfully!

Donna Marie Laino, RN
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