The burden of a sense of humor

Where did it come from? My parents gave their v0ws on October 1, 1921, in the front yard of the Ole Martinson farm. In the next five years and four months, there came four children, two daughters followed by two sons. Six years, one month and one day passed without further issue. Then, in the midst of worldwide depression, on the very day the incoming President exhorted his audience with "We have nothing to fear but fear itself", the y0ounger of my two sisters looked down through the hot air register meant to transfer warm air from kitchen to the "girls room" and said "We've got a boy baby" Older sister said, "Surely not. you must be imagining things".
Now, my mother, being a purebred Norwegian, had a somewhat limited sense of humor; Some things did seem funnier in Norwegian than in English. Sometimes, her telephone conversations with her best friend, also Norwegian, would be punctuated with hearty laughter and one of us kids would inquire, "What was so funny?" Iy appeared that the humor did not translate.
Despite very difficult economic conditions, my dad could find lots of life to be funny. Much of my dad's background came from the British Isles. It was abetted by the funny paragraph or so filling the page after articles in the Reader's Digest. We six kids varied greatly in our funny bones. Our oldest sister was comparatively serious. The brother born just before me was the family jock, with the athlete's sensibility. Maybe growing up during the Great Depression, we laughed so we wouldn't cry. Whatever the cause, it is certainly a gift. I used to think God had an unusual sense of humor.