This could be funny

How dare you laugh at Parkinson’s?

How dare you not?

It’s a stupid disease. It makes the people who are afflicted by it, our brilliant, thoughtful, funny loved ones lose control of some of their favorite things: their bodies, their voice and, at some point, even their minds.

So how to deal with all that crap? Laugh. Talk. Think. These are paraphrased words from Jimmy Valvano near the end of his life. Though his struggle was cancer - and the great work of the V Foundation continues - similar issues apply in Parkinson’s. You’re facing loss, suffering and frustration. The best way to fight back? Laugh.

It’s not easy - but there are ways to get better at it. One of those ways is to engage with others. The problems associated with isolation are well documented. An empathetic audience will make your landing soft every time. Even a sympathetic audience can be helpful - but true connection is where the magic lies.

That’s one of the things we shoot for in improvisation: connection. Last week, in San Jose, CA, ComedySportz San Jose hosted the first workshop for Parkinson’s in our series. It was a fantastic event and, despite the relatively small crowd, our effect was great. It was the first time my dad had improvised. Not only did the games bring out the best in my dad - from his small, knowing grin when he’s just passed off a particularly bad dad pun to his full-belly laughter when he is deeply engaged with someone else in the group.

One of the simple, yet very powerful improvisation exercises, we did was mirroring. The concept is simple: You pair two people up. One does an action slowly (like raise their right arm). Their partner does the exact same thing, as if he or she were the carbon copy in the mirror. One thing that’s rather stunning about the game is the intimacy players can reach quickly, once they get past the weird social norm side of things. I played this game with my dad and felt deeply connected with him. To study and mimic his body and face back to him as purely as possible - not as a game and not for a laugh - was incredibly moving. At the end of the game, my dad said “I felt like I was looking at myself.”

I got chills. We were connected. Not long after that, we were laughing as we were finishing each others sentences. Laughter and most everything else flows better when we are connected, feel safe, respected and listened to by our partners.

Here’s a brief video I made describing our next improv event in Seattle and incorporating what a few participants from San Jose had to say about their experiences. While I’m pushing out to other areas of the country to share this exciting new work, I will also be bringing it back here to Las Vegas so we can share its benefits with our community.

• written by Robert Cochrane