The Night Eddie Murphy Saved My Life

As the flood of emotions and memories that always mark the coming of the 2nd week of September are once again in full swing, TV networks have broken out their footage of the screams, explosions, and dust covered phantoms wandering a crippled Downtown. Everybody will always have their own version of “where they were” and most will solemnly pay homage to heroes whether they wore helmets and boots, badges, or shirts and ties.

The who, what, where, when, and why regarding that dark day in September are well known but there is a part of the story that few know. It is the stories of the families that somehow managed to survive the aftermath of the atrocity and engaged in the torturous waiting game to receive word about their missing loved ones. Although many never received word at all, for my family the process lasted 19 agonizing days. This is a glimpse into that process and some of the unlikely ways we managed to cope with it.

If there is any way to call my family blessed in regards to the tragedy, it was that we were fortunate to have an unbelievable support system. In the hours after the towers fell, people began showing up at our home and in large part, with the exception of to shower and (sometimes) sleep, didn’t leave for a month. This group included family members, neighbors, and long time family friends. In terms of my sisters and me, a similar wave of friends came. Most were friends since grade school but a few were more casual acquaintances that before long became something much more.

These friends of ours became our constant companions. So much so that most, in the short term, completely ditched school and became permanent residents of our couches and bedroom floors. We talked together, sat silent together, ate together, hoped together, and certainly cried together. They came to support us but also because of their own personal relationships with my parents. It the interaction among us “kids” that brings us to the night Eddie Murphy saved our lives.

We tried as best we could to keep our minds off of things but it was mostly a losing battle. Even when we did sleep, we still spent the days emotionally drained and physically exhausted. One day, sometime within the first week (the actual timeline remains a blur), when we were continuing the routine of small talking and trying in vain to believe the whole thing wasn’t happening, one of these friends took the opportunity to stand up and say” We can’t do this anymore…I’ll be back in a bit,” and left the room,” No one knew what his plan was but we were too tired to ask.

A couple hours later he returned carrying an unmarked video tape sporting a shit eating grin. He handed me the tape and just as I was about to make a joke about this being no time for bootleg porn and declared “We are watching this tonight…all of us” I asked him what it was and he then asked me if I knew who Eddie Murphy was. I scoffed and said of course. He said “but have you ever seen his stand-up?” A bunch of us said no and my friend chuckled to himself, happy that he was the only one who knew what we were in for.

After that evening’s buffet style meal (if there is a silver lining to any tragedy it is that there is always a shitload of food), we gathered in my room and within a minute or two what seemed like 50 but was probably closer to 10-15 of us were crammed into my room and the friend who had unofficial become the MC for the viewing pushed in the tape and before it disappeared into the VCR I read the word “Delirious” written in black Sharpie on the tape label.

It was about then that something amazing happened. From the moment the young Eddie Murphy strode onto the stage wearing that red orange jumpsuit that looked like you could plug it into a wall socket and spoke we did something we weren’t sure was possible anymore; we laughed……hard. For the next hour plus we listened to the comic’s musings on the sexual habits of Mr. T and Ralph Cramden, ice cream, and family BBO’s with Bigfoot in complete hysterics.

The most unexpectedly profound moment for me came when I caught my youngest sister Cody out of the corner of my eye. She was crying but not in the way we had become all too familiar with, she was nearly curled up into a ball holding her sides and crying from laughter. It was then that I realized somewhere in my brain that somehow we were going to make it. Our emotion was just as intense but we had found a way to transfer it into another form and achieve a different yet equally important release.

Eddie Murphy’s “Delirious” remains uproariously funny regardless of where or how you saw it for the 1st time but for those of us who were in the room that night it remains something different. I have seen said special at least a dozen times since then but whenever I watch it with someone from that room, at some point there is a look and nod exchanged almost as a way of saying “we’re still here,”
To this day,

I swear that I have never laughed longer and harder than I did that night. It was that rediscovery of the ability to laugh and to be with friends that allows me to write this with a broad smile on my face nearly 9 years later. Most of the friends who were part of this story and the countless others from the period remind close but even among those that inevitably I have grown apart from the bond of having “been there” together never wanes. It is because of these people, and Eddie Murphy, that I am still here. Whatever life throws at you; don’t ever forget how to laugh because it may save your life