In my senior year of college, I wrote what could effectively be considered my senior thesis. If you remember, or if you don’t know, I was wildly popular in college.
That popularity was based on my talents and humility. I was fortunate to go to school on a partial acting and leadership scholarship. In fact, I was the first recipient of an endowed gift for that scholarship. I humble-brag about this because I was more of a theatrical leader than Daniel Day-Lewis.
Xavier didn’t have a specific drama department (it does now), and the theater department consisted of students taking classes in various majors. One of my dorky achievements was to help secure the creation of a Performance Studies minor, which I was also the first to graduate with.
The thesis was considered the final project for Performance Studies minors in order to say with pride that you had graduated with a Performance Studies minor, which would come in handy a few months later when I worked at Structure, the men's clothing store at the mall.
The paper was based on the role of comedy in American society. Since I was about as well-read as the average 4th grader, I stuck to the subject matter I knew best: comedians, particularly the one who worked at Saturday Night Live.
Overall, my point was pretty bland. Comedy plays a critical role in showing society a mirror. Without comedy, I argued, we’d be an unfunny, unaware, unrepenting collection of people who took sports seriously. I wrote about SLN's influence, but it fell short in creating change.
I didn’t discuss anyone else’s influence on comedy and American culture, neglecting many people, like Samuel Clemens.
Samuel Clemens is considered the Father of American Humor. Born in Missouri in 1835, he would live most of his life near or on the Mississippi River. He developed a passion for satire, humor, and writing, all things I wish OKH could be, and delivered the country a gift of self-reflection and constructive criticism.
This week, we remember Twain, who died at 74 on April 21, 1910.
I eventually worked at the John F. Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, and one of my early jobs was working on the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor. The first recipient was Richard Pryor. Pryor’s humor was much like Twain's, biting and slicing through the absurdities and injustices of American life with coarse and funny language. I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t appreciate the connection at the time, and I certainly didn’t include Pryor in my thesis.
I’ve read Huckleberry Finn, but I only remember the highlights. I’m sure I read Tom Sawyer, but I don’t remember a thing about it. Which means I need to go back and reread them. Overall, I need to acquaint myself more with Twain and maybe redo that paper.
Okay, let's highlight what else happened this week. As a reminder, these events celebrate their anniversary, ending in 5 or 0. Here's what I got:
1. The Library of Congress was established on April 24, 1800. The big library was created for research and administering copyright laws for Congress. The British burned it down during the War with England Part II, and President Jefferson donated much of his library. Then, in 1851, it burned again, wiping out half of Jefferson’s collection. No fires since, and it is a crown jewel of a building to visit. Do not come to my town and miss visiting this place.
2. The space shuttle Discovery blasted off on April 24, 1990. Four years after the Challenger disaster, Discovery carried the Hubble Space Telescope into Earth’s low orbit. Since then, it has sat out there taking pictures and reminding us how big space is. In case you didn’t know.
3. Vermont Governor Howard Dean signed the nation's first bill allowing same-sex couples to form civil unions on April 26, 2000. The state of Vermont showed it was sweet outside of maple syrup, and this law was the opening act to marriage equality. Dean should be remembered more for this than the scream heard worldwide in 2004.
Ultimately, I received a B on my thesis. I believe the professor was generous.
I have an extra lesson that I wrote back in 2021 when I first launched the most mediocre history blog ever. On April 23, 1985, Coca-Cola announced the change in formula and introduced New Coke, and I dropped my essay about the entire thing. In full disclosure, I went back and edited it—like an editor would do. I still need one.
I hope everyone had a nice holiday. It’s great to be back working for the church because I also got today off. I’m using this day off to do work because I have about 700 meetings next week. Of course, I would be remiss without mentioning how sad I am to learn of Pope Francis' passing. He was truly a great man for others.
Have a happy week, everyone. I appreciate the support of Okay History and will see you at the end of the week.
Okay,
Chris