Fun don’t get no respect.

Maybe that’s because Fun makes Serious look bad (self-important, pompous, baw-ring) and you know Serious doesn’t like that.

Simple as sugar water, Fun requires no interpretation, no prior experience to understand (Erudite demands credentials before it will reveal what the heck it is talking about).

Fun leaves no lasting effect, erects no monuments. Fun hides no deeper meaning. Fun is something you just get—and it gets you—it may cause you to snort-laugh, and where’s the Dignity in that? …exactly.

Fun is what you do when you are between things, worn down like an old eraser from doing The List (Fun never makes or shows up on The List).

Fun doesn’t solve anything, but it can be a detour out of a tense situation. Fun takes on conflict by putting the combatants in bumper cars. Pretty soon Anger is traded for the joy of ramming each other and, yes, snort-laughing.

Labeled “immature” Fun is often tossed into the toy bin of youth, that bin then lugged up to the attic to gather the dust of Sober Adulthood, the excuses for lifting that lid again being: 1.) I’m on vacation. 2.) I’m drunk! 3.) I have kids—I have to goof around with my kids, right?

Fun never climbs up on a pedestal like, say, Beauty or Truth—unless it is to pratfall off that pedestal and face-plant, or land on its ass.

Dignity looks down its nose at Fun. But does Fun care, or even notice? Most of the time Fun is busy tripping over its own feet just to get a laugh—once in a while even Dignity gets caught off guard and chuckles before quickly composing itself again.

Fun skips meetings (although it sure would help if it didn’t). Fun has no framed diplomas hanging stodgily on the wall. Fun has no resume.

Fun leaves behind no Great Art, no Timeless Literature, no Profound Truths. It blows through like an unexpected breeze, leaving nothing but the buoyant feeling of having laughed or let out a breath held far too long—and perhaps a little telltale glitter scattered on the floor.