Racist, Bigot, Misogynist, Moron, Fool, Deplorable, Crazy, Hateful, Asshat, POS, Evil, Sicko, Bonehead and various body parts.
Anybody who has dabbled in politics on Facebook, email, or at a family gathering has seen these words or had them thrown their way. They are the ammunition in the war between those with different political philosophy who are little shy of facts. It's hard to be called a less than complimentary name and let it roll like water off of an elephant or donkey's back, so maybe it's a good idea to probe the impact of "words."
The first time I became aware of the awesome power of words was a few years ago when a new local radio talk show host used the term, "wetback." I knew what he was attempting to describe, I got it. It meant nothing to me but it meant the end of a promising radio career for our local talk show host.
Mr. Talk Show's repeated use of the word on the air to make a point, made a point. The point he made was if you say "wetback" on the air in New Mexico, you're fired. Whatever happened to "Sticks and stones will break my bones, but names will never harm me?"
This event got me thinking, why do some words bother us and others do not? Some Mexican-American listeners were bothered not at all by the "w" word and others were aggravated to the point of picketing the radio station. It can't be the word itself; it must be what that word (or any word) means to each individual who hears it.
So if we are in charge of what words mean to us, can't we choose not to be hurt by them?
Maybe words bother us most when we give them some validity. If we enjoy writing and if someone were to comment on our writing by saying that we, "ramble on without obvious direction," we might be bothered at some level if we felt that might be true. But if the next person commented that the reason you write as you do is that your head is blue, being called a "bluehead" wouldn't bother you at all because you know you are not one of the rare and colorful Bluehead clan.
It's not only the words we hear, but who says them. I was a professional speaker for many years. If upon leaving a program, a domicilly challenged person, sucking Ripple wine out of a bottle wrapped in a brown paper sack told me he heard my talk while rummaging through a dumpster in the alley outside of my meeting room, and I "stunk" even more than the dumpster, I guess I wouldn't much care. But, if the "stunk" word was laid on me by one of my peers in the National Speakers' Association, I would have exhibited a distinctly different reaction to the same words.
Words by themselves mean nothing. We give words all the meaning they have for us.
Today, everywhere we look in the world something icky is going on. This is the time for intelligent discussion of solutions, but the world's issues are so complicated, and since most of us don't really understand them nor do we have any practical or workable solutions, the only thing we seem to be sure of is the "other side" is wrong. When a person can't put their position forward or contradict other's position with facts, all that's left is name calling. "Yea! Well, you're a poop head!"
Maybe the power of words for good and bad in our life depends on our sense of self-esteem? The more confident we are about ourselves, the tougher it is to find a word to hurt us. It may be hard for us to accept and implement this truth but maybe if we are offended by being called Racist, Bigot, Misogynist, Moron, Fool, Deplorable, Crazy, Hateful, Asshat, POS, Evil, Sicko, Bonehead and various body parts, maybe it says more about us than it does about the words.
"Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names can never harm me." (Unless I let them.)
LODESTAR RANCH
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Saturday, August 5, 2017
LEARNER, LEARNER YOUR FUTURE'S ON FIRE
Peanuts cartoon:
The character, Rerun, was hiding under a bed. Lucy asked if he's coming to school. Rerun said "no" because, he exclaimed, the teacher was sarcastic to him. The teacher had asked him if he thought he had "learned everything he needed to know." Lucy, being Lucy, queried "Well, do you think you've learned everything you need to know?" Rerun replied, "I think I've learned everything I need to know to live under a bed."
Rerun's philosophy, at this stage of his young life, appears to be, "If I'm going to live under a bed for the rest of my life, what is the sense of learning anything more? Logical, but somewhat flawed, thinking.
Maybe today all he needs to learn is what's necessary to live "under a bed," but tomorrow he may find himself "under a dresser." Does he know how to live under a dresser, or does he only have "under the bed" skills?
I remember many years ago attending a then live concert by the now dead Jim Croce.
He was a gifted songwriter, minstrel, and between-songs philosopher. That evening he spoke of his college experiences and said, "During four years of college I took philosophy, psychology, sociology, all of these "ologies," and I came out totally prepared for life in the 12th century."
If we don't learn how to learn, we will be, just as surely as the terminally inconvenienced Mr. Croce or the dust bunny covered Rerun, preparing for life under a bed in the 12th century. We will find ourselves able to function quite well in a world that has ceased to exist.
For those who use statistics to generate personal excitement, try these: 95 percent of what we use daily is learned after we leave school. Every five years 50 percent of what we know becomes obsolete. Doesn't say much for stagnant learning does it?
If you don't buy those statistics, and believe you have all the education you'll ever need with your high school, college or college plus degrees, try this little exercise. Dredge up the report card from your last year of formal education. See if you even remember taking a particular course, much less what was taught in that class. How would you do if you took a test today on the material you were exposed to in your last year of school?
With the high obsolescence rate of our knowledge we obviously can't rely on "used learning." Therefore continuous learning is critical at all stages of life. But of the gabillion things there are to learn, what specifically do YOU need to learn? Selective learning is no easy task considering we have very little idea of what we should select to learn.
No matter how well we have planned our life, our life has a life of its own and that life is full of surprises of all sizes. What do we need to learn when our spouse runs off with the circus? Didn't plan on that I bet. How about a job loss; quadruplets; lottery winning; hemorrhoids; aging?
Learn something every day; we're never sure what we'll need to know or when we'll need to know it. It is one heck of a challenge to prepare for a life that has never been lived before.
The character, Rerun, was hiding under a bed. Lucy asked if he's coming to school. Rerun said "no" because, he exclaimed, the teacher was sarcastic to him. The teacher had asked him if he thought he had "learned everything he needed to know." Lucy, being Lucy, queried "Well, do you think you've learned everything you need to know?" Rerun replied, "I think I've learned everything I need to know to live under a bed."
Rerun's philosophy, at this stage of his young life, appears to be, "If I'm going to live under a bed for the rest of my life, what is the sense of learning anything more? Logical, but somewhat flawed, thinking.
Maybe today all he needs to learn is what's necessary to live "under a bed," but tomorrow he may find himself "under a dresser." Does he know how to live under a dresser, or does he only have "under the bed" skills?
I remember many years ago attending a then live concert by the now dead Jim Croce.
He was a gifted songwriter, minstrel, and between-songs philosopher. That evening he spoke of his college experiences and said, "During four years of college I took philosophy, psychology, sociology, all of these "ologies," and I came out totally prepared for life in the 12th century."
If we don't learn how to learn, we will be, just as surely as the terminally inconvenienced Mr. Croce or the dust bunny covered Rerun, preparing for life under a bed in the 12th century. We will find ourselves able to function quite well in a world that has ceased to exist.
For those who use statistics to generate personal excitement, try these: 95 percent of what we use daily is learned after we leave school. Every five years 50 percent of what we know becomes obsolete. Doesn't say much for stagnant learning does it?
If you don't buy those statistics, and believe you have all the education you'll ever need with your high school, college or college plus degrees, try this little exercise. Dredge up the report card from your last year of formal education. See if you even remember taking a particular course, much less what was taught in that class. How would you do if you took a test today on the material you were exposed to in your last year of school?
With the high obsolescence rate of our knowledge we obviously can't rely on "used learning." Therefore continuous learning is critical at all stages of life. But of the gabillion things there are to learn, what specifically do YOU need to learn? Selective learning is no easy task considering we have very little idea of what we should select to learn.
No matter how well we have planned our life, our life has a life of its own and that life is full of surprises of all sizes. What do we need to learn when our spouse runs off with the circus? Didn't plan on that I bet. How about a job loss; quadruplets; lottery winning; hemorrhoids; aging?
Learn something every day; we're never sure what we'll need to know or when we'll need to know it. It is one heck of a challenge to prepare for a life that has never been lived before.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
FATHER'S DAY--DO AS I DO
June 18th. A day that shall, for me, live in both infamy and honor. This year the date is Father's Day, and the date, in 2014, was my father's death.
I've only had one father so I can't really say if father/son relationships are all pretty much the same as mine, but I hope for those of you out there that yours is or was. I can truthfully say that in the couple of times I have been asked if I have a role model, I have never hesitated: Bill Payne was it.
Dad passed up job advancements to be with the family; he attended almost every sporting event I was in, including intramural; he backed some decisions of mine I knew he would have rather seen go another way. Dad remained married to my mother for 76 years, and all that time I never heard the man swear (No connection between the two.)
I don't mean this to be your reading how great my father was. I would image many of you could say the same, or maybe your dad could make my dad look like Negan from The Walking Dead. I just want to stress the dad-as-role-model concept.
This wonderful dad I am describing never in his life told me he loved me. I never missed it. He showed me with every action, every day. My mother was equally as forthcoming with the, "I love you's," (as I have been told, am I) but I never had a doubt about how either of them felt about me, my brother or each other. They lived their lives according to their principles, and much to the chagrin of two boys, never varied. ( Dad was a high ranking police official in Chicago and to keep a clean record in those days required a man of principle and a man who would never do anything to embarrass his family or offend his God.)
On this Father's day maybe we fathers could, after opening up our present of Soap-On-A-Rope, examine our relationships with our children. With some of us, it may be a little late to do much about it, but to whatever degree we can affect it, affect it. Do we want our children to do what we do? When they have a tough decision to make, would they ask themselves WWDD (What Would Dad Do), or is all they have of you the fact that you say, "Love ya" when you hung up the phone?
This world is changing daily. Our experiences when we were our children's age is dinosaur time. We can't give specific direction on how to act in specific cases because those cases will have changed by the time dear old dad puts together a coherent sentence. Having lived with you for possibly eighteen plus years, and your children are looking for direction in the midst of turmoil, would they ask themselves how often they were told they were loved, or how often they were shown they were loved. Then they can ask and answer WWDD.
Dad died a couple of months short of 104 so his death was not unexpected. The "crowd" at his wake was very sparse. (All of his friends were on the "other side" waiting and wondering where he was.) I was one of the last to say my good-bye's and was holding myself together very well I thought. That didn't last long. I looked back to see one last person, a man in his late 80s who had worked for dad, standing alone next to the coffin presenting as sharp a salute as I had ever seen. Maybe I was not the only person to whom dad was a role model.
I've only had one father so I can't really say if father/son relationships are all pretty much the same as mine, but I hope for those of you out there that yours is or was. I can truthfully say that in the couple of times I have been asked if I have a role model, I have never hesitated: Bill Payne was it.
Dad passed up job advancements to be with the family; he attended almost every sporting event I was in, including intramural; he backed some decisions of mine I knew he would have rather seen go another way. Dad remained married to my mother for 76 years, and all that time I never heard the man swear (No connection between the two.)
I don't mean this to be your reading how great my father was. I would image many of you could say the same, or maybe your dad could make my dad look like Negan from The Walking Dead. I just want to stress the dad-as-role-model concept.
This wonderful dad I am describing never in his life told me he loved me. I never missed it. He showed me with every action, every day. My mother was equally as forthcoming with the, "I love you's," (as I have been told, am I) but I never had a doubt about how either of them felt about me, my brother or each other. They lived their lives according to their principles, and much to the chagrin of two boys, never varied. ( Dad was a high ranking police official in Chicago and to keep a clean record in those days required a man of principle and a man who would never do anything to embarrass his family or offend his God.)
On this Father's day maybe we fathers could, after opening up our present of Soap-On-A-Rope, examine our relationships with our children. With some of us, it may be a little late to do much about it, but to whatever degree we can affect it, affect it. Do we want our children to do what we do? When they have a tough decision to make, would they ask themselves WWDD (What Would Dad Do), or is all they have of you the fact that you say, "Love ya" when you hung up the phone?
This world is changing daily. Our experiences when we were our children's age is dinosaur time. We can't give specific direction on how to act in specific cases because those cases will have changed by the time dear old dad puts together a coherent sentence. Having lived with you for possibly eighteen plus years, and your children are looking for direction in the midst of turmoil, would they ask themselves how often they were told they were loved, or how often they were shown they were loved. Then they can ask and answer WWDD.
Dad died a couple of months short of 104 so his death was not unexpected. The "crowd" at his wake was very sparse. (All of his friends were on the "other side" waiting and wondering where he was.) I was one of the last to say my good-bye's and was holding myself together very well I thought. That didn't last long. I looked back to see one last person, a man in his late 80s who had worked for dad, standing alone next to the coffin presenting as sharp a salute as I had ever seen. Maybe I was not the only person to whom dad was a role model.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
MATH OF LIFE
A very good friend of mine died yesterday. It was sudden. I wasn't ready for it. I don't cultivate many friends, so I really can't afford to lose any. His death reminded me of something I had written a few years ago. It’s now pretty obvious what phase I am in.
MATH OF LIFE
It is said there are only three kinds of people in this world; those who are good at math and those who aren’t. I happen to be one of the latter, so it is a bit surprising that I have come to look at life in terms of mathematics, but I guess that’s just how it adds up, go figure. I believe in four phases of life: addition, multiplication, division, and subtraction. Here is what I mean:
ADDITION We come into life with nothing, no clothes, no name, no bowel control—nothing, a blank slate. Then we meet and add our parents, brothers, and sisters, Aunt Rosie and Uncle Horace and Rover the dog. Then we add clothes, a name, and the all so advantageous bowel control. During this period of addition, our muscles develop strength and coordination, and our brains go into high gear allowing us to engage in life skills like eating, walking, talking. We add a personality, we add friends, teachers, classmates. We learn to deal with different types of people and, to the best any of us can relate to the opposite sex. In the addition phase, we add to that mass of living protoplasm that was us all we need to be a functioning, contributing human being. Addition takes us from nothing and provides us with the basics we require to become the person we are.
MULTIPLICATION Now we are all ready to go but realize we don’t wish to go it alone, so we multiply what is us by bringing in a spouse, partner, significant other, mate, etc. and if that other person is physically capable of multiplying, from one comes many. Then comes the inevitable--house, cars and various jobs, careers and the new people associated with them. Your children now have friends who have parents you get to know and with whom you interact. Your life circle is multiplying every day. Your social life is full of weddings, birth announcements, and work parties. Multiplication widens our circle and provides us with supplementary tools to fine tune a productive life.
DIVISION God, in his wisdom, has made it that children don’t stay around forever. They go, taking their friends and the weddings and births along with them. There may even be a divorce or separation from the partner, significant other, or mate. In this division phase, you may separate from your job. The long anticipated retirement is at hand. You disconnect from your coworkers and may even disconnect from your home geography to make winters more palatable to your brittle bones. Division tweaks the necessities of what you want out of your life. You begin to circle the wagons.
SUBTRACTION Life has given us the opportunity to live our potential in the addition and multiplication phases and helped us scale down during the division stage. Now it appears to be “give back” time. We lose family members and friends. (This is not as hard as it sounds because we also begin to lose memory and comprehension.) Our skin and muscle tone, reaction time, patience, eyesight and hearing are not what they used to be. Our basic skills like eating, walking, talking take a beating. Overall health heads slowly south and here it is again that damn bowel control thing! In subtraction, we find ourselves circling one wagon.
Of course, these four stages do not often appear separately. They can, and most often do, occur simultaneously. (You could add a caregiver while your health is subtracting.) We may all experience these events to one degree or another in these fascinating times between birth and death. Something we need to remember is not to wait to experience our potential or our dreams until the subtraction phase. We will be much too busy trying to remember what we had for lunch.
MATH OF LIFE
It is said there are only three kinds of people in this world; those who are good at math and those who aren’t. I happen to be one of the latter, so it is a bit surprising that I have come to look at life in terms of mathematics, but I guess that’s just how it adds up, go figure. I believe in four phases of life: addition, multiplication, division, and subtraction. Here is what I mean:
ADDITION We come into life with nothing, no clothes, no name, no bowel control—nothing, a blank slate. Then we meet and add our parents, brothers, and sisters, Aunt Rosie and Uncle Horace and Rover the dog. Then we add clothes, a name, and the all so advantageous bowel control. During this period of addition, our muscles develop strength and coordination, and our brains go into high gear allowing us to engage in life skills like eating, walking, talking. We add a personality, we add friends, teachers, classmates. We learn to deal with different types of people and, to the best any of us can relate to the opposite sex. In the addition phase, we add to that mass of living protoplasm that was us all we need to be a functioning, contributing human being. Addition takes us from nothing and provides us with the basics we require to become the person we are.
MULTIPLICATION Now we are all ready to go but realize we don’t wish to go it alone, so we multiply what is us by bringing in a spouse, partner, significant other, mate, etc. and if that other person is physically capable of multiplying, from one comes many. Then comes the inevitable--house, cars and various jobs, careers and the new people associated with them. Your children now have friends who have parents you get to know and with whom you interact. Your life circle is multiplying every day. Your social life is full of weddings, birth announcements, and work parties. Multiplication widens our circle and provides us with supplementary tools to fine tune a productive life.
DIVISION God, in his wisdom, has made it that children don’t stay around forever. They go, taking their friends and the weddings and births along with them. There may even be a divorce or separation from the partner, significant other, or mate. In this division phase, you may separate from your job. The long anticipated retirement is at hand. You disconnect from your coworkers and may even disconnect from your home geography to make winters more palatable to your brittle bones. Division tweaks the necessities of what you want out of your life. You begin to circle the wagons.
SUBTRACTION Life has given us the opportunity to live our potential in the addition and multiplication phases and helped us scale down during the division stage. Now it appears to be “give back” time. We lose family members and friends. (This is not as hard as it sounds because we also begin to lose memory and comprehension.) Our skin and muscle tone, reaction time, patience, eyesight and hearing are not what they used to be. Our basic skills like eating, walking, talking take a beating. Overall health heads slowly south and here it is again that damn bowel control thing! In subtraction, we find ourselves circling one wagon.
Of course, these four stages do not often appear separately. They can, and most often do, occur simultaneously. (You could add a caregiver while your health is subtracting.) We may all experience these events to one degree or another in these fascinating times between birth and death. Something we need to remember is not to wait to experience our potential or our dreams until the subtraction phase. We will be much too busy trying to remember what we had for lunch.
Monday, March 6, 2017
ME! ME! ME!
You are the Center of the Universe.
A poem I once read said the least important word in the English language is the word "I." Balderdash! "I" is the most important word. The popular saying, "It's not about you," couldn't be more incorrect. It's all about you. How about "No man is an island?" Another dash of balder, of course, we are each "islands." No one, and I mean no one, on this earth cares about what happens to you as much as you do. That's all right, after all, you are the Center of the Universe.
Skeptics read on.
When people tell you they feel "good," did you ever wonder what their "good" is like? If you were in their body and felt the way they feel when they feel "good," might you be tempted to dial 911?
What does it feel like to them when people tell you they are in pain, hungry or sad. You know how it feels to you when you're in pain. You know what goes on in your innards when you're hungry and in your mind when you're sad. But do others twinge in the same places as you twinge? Are others grabbed in the same place you're grabbed?
You are the Center Of The Universe. Everything that happens in the world is given meaning by you based on your experiences and beliefs. Fred tells you he feels good, you immediately "know" how Fred feels based on how you feel when you feel good. How else could you possibly interpret Fred's condition?
When you walk down the theater aisle to your pricey, front-row seat, the people on your left you would call, "The people on my left." When you leave the theater, the people that you called "the people on my left," would now accurately be called, "The people on my right." The people didn't change sides during the play, but they did in relation to you.
Every way you view the world is in relation to you. Therefore you must be the "center," right?
Being the Center of the Universe carries with it good news and bad news:
Good news--you're always right
Bad news--the rest of the world doesn't always believe the good news. (The trick here is to realize that everyone else is also the Center of the Universe!)
You will have made a giant leap forward in living a less stressful and more rewarding life when you realize the truths in life you hold as indisputable are made up by you, judged by you, defended by you, and can, therefore, be changed by you. Contrary to popular parental precepts, the world does revolve around you.
Friday, February 3, 2017
"SHOULDING" ALL OVER
I feel pretty, I feel pretty. I feel pretty, witty and.. Right in the middle of my shower song came Smokey the cat. He pushed the shower door open, cat-swaggered in and began lapping up the water that had just recently washed off my squeaky clean body.
If, when my children lived at home they would have done the same thing (open the shower door, not licked the floor), I would have been angry. The cat did it; I thought it was cute. Same act. Why would I have been mad at the kids and not the cat?
Simply, kids should know better. Cats, on the other hand, aren't into shoulds.
Anytime you have the word should, rattling around in your cranium, you can bet the negative emotion of anger is waiting to spill over everyone in sight. The kids should have known better, therefore I'm angry. Smokey shouldn't have known better, therefore I'm not angry. Kid or cat; my results are the same, I'm still standing wet, cold and waterlogged. Whether I choose to be angry or amused at the situation rests solely on my use of the word should.
Should is a very future-oriented word. "If I throw this lit match into a gallon of gasoline, I should get an explosion." That should means all the elements are in place to generate a specific result. While an asinine use of a lit match, it is a legitimate use of the word should.
Using should in the past is when we get into trouble. "Bob should have remembered our anniversary." He didn't. "My boss shouldn't have criticized me in front of others." She did. Go with it!
Anything that has happened should have happened; otherwise, it would not have happened. The event did happen and it's over and done. Everything is right with nature, rejoice.
Should paralyzes you in the present moment by requiring spending that present moment wishing events were different from what they are. Rather than fussing and fuming over the irretrievable past, use the present productively by putting a structure in place so a similar undesirable event does not happen again in the future. Maybe I put locks on the shower door?
Next time you are angry look for the word should. It will not be hard to find. Reduce your shoulds, reduce your anger.
If, when my children lived at home they would have done the same thing (open the shower door, not licked the floor), I would have been angry. The cat did it; I thought it was cute. Same act. Why would I have been mad at the kids and not the cat?
Simply, kids should know better. Cats, on the other hand, aren't into shoulds.
Anytime you have the word should, rattling around in your cranium, you can bet the negative emotion of anger is waiting to spill over everyone in sight. The kids should have known better, therefore I'm angry. Smokey shouldn't have known better, therefore I'm not angry. Kid or cat; my results are the same, I'm still standing wet, cold and waterlogged. Whether I choose to be angry or amused at the situation rests solely on my use of the word should.
Should is a very future-oriented word. "If I throw this lit match into a gallon of gasoline, I should get an explosion." That should means all the elements are in place to generate a specific result. While an asinine use of a lit match, it is a legitimate use of the word should.
Using should in the past is when we get into trouble. "Bob should have remembered our anniversary." He didn't. "My boss shouldn't have criticized me in front of others." She did. Go with it!
Anything that has happened should have happened; otherwise, it would not have happened. The event did happen and it's over and done. Everything is right with nature, rejoice.
Should paralyzes you in the present moment by requiring spending that present moment wishing events were different from what they are. Rather than fussing and fuming over the irretrievable past, use the present productively by putting a structure in place so a similar undesirable event does not happen again in the future. Maybe I put locks on the shower door?
Next time you are angry look for the word should. It will not be hard to find. Reduce your shoulds, reduce your anger.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
THE BIG GOOD BYE
Over a long life certain people come in and out of that life that leave an impression. One of those people for me (maybe this says more about me than it does about him), was Tiny Tim. (The "singer," not the Christmas Carol Kid.)
For you younger readers Tiny Tim achieved his dubious fame in the late 60s. He was a tall, skinny, long-haired, ukulele strumming, falsetto who came to "fame" on TV variety shows "singing," as only Tim could sing, Tip Toe Through The Tulips. In 1969 he married his first wife, Miss Vicki, in front of 40 million viewers on the "Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson."
Tiny was performing in a room full of his fans in Minneapolis in 1996 when he died of a massive heart attack.
So why did TT's death so many years ago still stick with me?
In an interview after Tiny tipped his last toe, his third wife, Miss Sue, summed up his death by saying, "He died singing Tiptoe Through the Tulips. The last thing he heard was applause, and the last thing he saw was me."
I remember this because Herbert (Tiny Tim ) Khaury died doing what he loved, being rewarded for doing what he loved, and lying in the arms of the one he loved. Neat eh? I guess even a mediocre performance can be salvaged by a classy exit. In some ways I actually envy Tiny Tim.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)