The Last Nerve

June 18, 2026 | Third Thursday Thoughts
Dawn LaRochelle, Executive Director

When you’re a new parent, you discover that everyone in the world is an expert on child-rearing. Except, apparently, you.

Most of the advice I received as a first-time mom earned an inward eye roll (“Cover him up; he’ll catch a chill!”). Occasionally, it turned out to be painfully true (“Enjoy this time. The days are long, but the years are short”). And every once in a great while, it changed my life.

“Write it all down so you don’t forget,” my mom urged. So I did.

Back in the days before smartphones, social media, and the ability to record every waking moment, I opened a file in Microsoft Works (remember that one?) and started keeping notes.

At first, it was just milestones. I jotted down my oldest son Scott’s first words (cat, dog, Mom-Mom) and first sentence (“I see a bird”).

Then came the Scott-isms. “Ba” meant light. “Ow” meant no, not ouch. “Pie” referred to any and all sweets, including the candy his grandfather occasionally slipped him when Grandma and I weren’t looking.

One day, when Scott was about two-and-a-half, he got annoyed with his father and announced in a tone of tremendous authority, “Da-da, if you keep that up, you are going straight to b-e-d, and that spells BED!”

Which is how I learned my budding Einstein could spell, and how the file acquired a new category: “Funny Things Out of the Mouth of Scott.”

Like the time three-year-old Scott dragged a stepladder across the kitchen and positioned it beneath the counter where I kept the jelly bean jar.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

Without skipping a beat, he replied, “I’m using the stepladder to get the jellybeans you said I couldn’t have.”

Or the day his preschool teacher, Mrs. Ende, informed him that he was getting on her last nerve.

“No, Mrs. Ende,” Scott reassured her. “You have another one.”

As my family grew, I kept the tradition going. There was four-year-old Peter, who on the way to his Jewish day school proudly declared he was going to sing so loudly at Kabbalat Shabbat that the fish in the classroom fish tank would dance.

“Will the hermit crab in the tank dance, too?” I smiled.

Peter’s response dripped with contempt for my ignorance.

“Of course not! Hermit crabs don’t dance.”

And then there was two-year-old Andrew, who overheard me talking about the various King Henries of England and eagerly joined the conversation.

“The green Henry is my favorite!”

It took me a moment to realize Andrew wasn’t talking about English monarchs at all. He meant Henry the green engine from Thomas the Tank Engine.

Decades later, those files still have the ability to turn my frown right upside-down. Whenever life feels particularly overwhelming, all I have to do is open them. Within minutes, I’m laughing hard enough to risk spitting my mocha latte.

What I preserved in those files wasn’t just a collection of funny stories. It was a collection of moments that made our family feel like itself.

We tend to think the most important memories are the big ones: birthdays, graduations, weddings, anniversaries. And those moments matter.

But when families gather around holiday tables, those aren’t always the stories that get retold. Instead, we remember the jellybeans, the dancing fish, and the green Henry. We remember the moments that made us laugh.

Humor has a remarkable ability to create connection. It reminds us that life is often messy, unpredictable, and absurd. It helps us keep difficult things in perspective and allows us to hold joy and struggle in the same hand.

Most importantly, laughter is rarely a solitary activity. It draws people together. It turns strangers into friends, families into storytellers, and communities into something stronger than the sum of their parts.

Perhaps that is one reason humor has occupied such an important place in Jewish life for centuries.

Jewish humor has never been merely entertainment. It has been a survival skill, a coping mechanism, a source of wisdom, and a declaration of resilience.

Generation after generation, Jews have used humor to navigate uncertainty, confront adversity, challenge authority, question assumptions, and occasionally argue with God. Humor allowed us to acknowledge life’s hardships without being defined by them. It reminded us that joy is not the absence of struggle, but an act of perseverance.

And if Jewish history has taught us anything, it is that laughter and resilience make remarkably good traveling companions.

That tradition of humor — warm, wise, self-aware, and gloriously human — is exactly what we will celebrate on August 6 at the Maine Jewish Museum’s annual fundraiser, Comedy, Community & Catskills Classics.

And trust me when I say we are not doing this halfway.

Guests who choose the Dinner & Show experience will begin the evening with cocktails in the Museum’s magnificent garden, followed by an upscale pescatarian barbecue dinner catered by yours truly and inspired by some of my favorite summer flavors. Think fresh grilled seafood, vibrant salads, house-made sides, and garden-fresh ingredients at their seasonal peak. After all, while my career eventually wandered from restaurants to museums, my obsession with cooking never got the memo. The evening may be built around laughter, but dinner is no laughing matter.

As the evening unfolds, guests will enjoy music, comedy, and old-fashioned Catskills-inspired entertainment. We are thrilled to welcome acclaimed comedian Cory Kahaney, whose sharp wit and relatable storytelling have made her a favorite on The Tonight Show, The Late Show with David Letterman, and comedy stages across the country.

We’ll also be joined by the wildly entertaining Rubin Brothers, whose unique blend of music, juggling, circus arts, physical comedy, and vaudeville-style showmanship captures the joyful spirit of the Borscht Belt while creating something entirely their own. In true Rubin Brothers fashion, the fun won’t be confined to the stage; they’ll be mingling with guests throughout the evening.

Those who prefer to skip dinner may choose a Show & Dessert ticket and join us for the performance, paddle raise, and post-show dessert reception. It’s a wonderful option for anyone looking to enjoy the evening’s entertainment and still end on a sweet note.

Dinner & Show or Show & Dessert? Fortunately, this is one of those rare decisions where everybody wins.

REGISTER HERE

And then there’s the online auction.

We’re still putting the finishing touches on it, so I can’t reveal all the details just yet. What I can tell you is that some truly extraordinary experiences and items have already begun making their way onto the auction block. Stay tuned.

Most importantly, this will be a night filled with laughter, conversation, friendship, and community. Every ticket purchased, every auction bid placed, every Host Committee member recruited, and every sponsorship secured helps support the Museum’s exhibitions, educational programs, community partnerships, and efforts to preserve and share Maine Jewish history. It helps make possible everything from Delet school programs and the Portland Jewish History Trail to oral history projects, concerts, lectures, and exhibitions that invite us to see one another with greater curiosity and understanding.

Life is hard.

People are ridiculous.

Laughter helps.

On August 6, we’re planning accordingly.

Warmly,

 Dawn LaRochelle
 Executive Director