Bob Hope, Red Skelton, and Eddie Cantor... help us keep our

“Bob Hope, Red Skelton, and Eddie Cantor… help us keep our balance.” – Hattie McDaniel

There are times in history when laughter itself becomes a form of salvation—when amid sorrow and struggle, the sound of joy is the truest act of defiance. It was in such a spirit that Hattie McDaniel, the trailblazing actress and the first African American to win an Academy Award, spoke these words. When she said that “Bob Hope, Red Skelton, and Eddie Cantor… help us keep our balance,” she was not merely praising entertainers—she was speaking of the sacred power of humor, of laughter as medicine for the weary soul. Her words remind us that in the weight of hard times, it is often laughter that steadies the trembling heart.

McDaniel lived through the Great Depression and the Second World War—eras heavy with fear, loss, and uncertainty. During those years, the stage and the radio became sanctuaries for a troubled nation. Bob Hope, with his quick wit and charm, traveled across oceans to make soldiers laugh at the very edge of death. Red Skelton, the clown philosopher, brought tenderness and humanity to comedy, teaching that humor could spring even from pain. And Eddie Cantor, with his songs and smiles, gave courage to those struggling to endure poverty and war. To McDaniel, these men represented not mere jesters, but healers of the human spirit—pillars of light who helped the world keep its balance when the ground beneath it seemed to shake.

For she understood, as the ancients once did, that laughter is not frivolity—it is survival. The Stoic philosophers spoke of balance, of finding calm in chaos. And though they used the language of reason, McDaniel expressed the same truth through the language of feeling. For when the world grows dark, laughter becomes a form of wisdom—a reminder that sorrow cannot claim all of us so long as we can still find joy in being alive. Humor, then, is not escape; it is resistance. It restores the equilibrium of the soul, much as the sun restores warmth after a long night.

Consider the story of the soldiers in the muddy trenches of Europe during World War II. Surrounded by fear, longing for home, they waited for death’s shadow each dawn. Yet when Bob Hope arrived to perform, their faces lit up. For a few precious moments, they laughed—not because their pain vanished, but because laughter gave them strength to endure it. Hope’s humor did not erase the war; it made the warriors human again. It balanced despair with courage, fear with fellowship. In laughter, they found the will to keep fighting for another sunrise.

Hattie McDaniel herself knew the healing power of laughter in her own life. As a Black woman in Hollywood during a time of segregation and prejudice, she faced barriers that might have broken lesser souls. Yet she wore her hardships with grace and humor, saying once, “I’d rather play a maid and make seven hundred dollars a week than be one for seven.” Her laughter was her weapon, her wisdom, her way of keeping balance in a world that sought to deny her dignity. She understood that to laugh was to rise above bitterness—to remind the world, and oneself, that the human spirit cannot be enslaved.

Thus, her words become more than praise—they become a philosophy. She teaches that every age, no matter how dark, must have its voices of joy, its keepers of balance. For a civilization that forgets how to laugh forgets how to live. Without humor, the mind tilts toward despair, and the heart hardens under grief. But with humor, we remain whole—we remember that life, though cruel, is still beautiful; that amidst ruin, there is still song.

O children of the future, take this lesson to heart: when the world grows heavy, seek not escape, but balance. Let laughter be your armor, your renewal, your quiet act of faith. Do not mock pain, but meet it with lightness, so it does not consume you. When you smile amid hardship, you proclaim the triumph of the living over the darkness of the world. Humor, when born of