#561 Musings Beyond the Bunker (Thursday January 19)
Good morning,
Over the holidays, Barbara Walters, the famous journalist who was a role model for a generation of professional women, died at the age of 93. She lived a long, productive life of renown and respect. She interviewed countless people in every walk of life, illuminating our world and plumbing the depths of her subjects’ lives.
As I’ve said before, people often are dismissive of the death of someone in their 90s or older. People will say “they lived a long life” as if it were an appropriate time to die. This seems rather callous and unfeeling to me. There really never is a “right” time to die. As any child of any nonagenarian parent can attest, there never is a “right” time to lose one’s parent. Any loss, regardless of age, is a great loss.
Shortly after Walters’s death, I received an interesting email that provided some perspective on the measure of her life. It turns out that Barbara Walters was born the same year—1929—as both Anne Frank and Martin Luther King, Jr. Both of them started their lives at the same time but were murdered well before their prime, while Walters would live to see decades of human history and achievement. Walters’s impact was great. But both Frank and King had greater historical impact and possess a greater hold on our imaginations and our dreams, despite their fewer years.
In her brief time on this Earth, Anne Frank painted the world a verbal picture of what it was like to have been in hiding during her formative years, demonstrating all the wonder, angst, and anticipation of the typical teen, all while living in fear of death. King, whose birthday we celebrated this week, was assassinated at the tender age of 39—yet he had accomplished so much and affected so many in his short time. Each in their own way—Frank, King and Walters—had left indelible prints on our world and our understanding of the human condition.
It was in this contemplative state that I was reminded that size (in number of years) really doesn’t matter. It’s the quality of those years.
THEIR WORDS
Some words of inspiration from these three, who shared not only their birthdays, but grit, optimism, and compassion:
“This is what I tell, especially young women, fight the big fights. Don't fight the little fight... Be the first one in, be the last one out. Do your homework, choose your battles. Don't whine, and don't be the one who complains about everything. Fight the big fight.” –Barbara Walters
"We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now because I've been to the mountaintop... I've looked over and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land." –Martin Luther King, Jr.
“It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”―Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
CAN WE LEARN TO HEAR EACH OTHER IN CONTEXT?
The other day, I related a story about, as I recall, being stuck behind someone in line and being frustrated. I said something like, “I just wanted to shoot myself.”
In response to what I thought was an innocuous turn of a phrase, I was admonished by a good friend, “You really shouldn’t say something like that” (presumedly because it would offend those with mental illness or who are triggered by the mention of guns). I responded, “Look, I really didn’t want to shoot myself. It’s merely an expression.” To this the response was that I was insensitive and “words like these make me uncomfortable.”
In essence, I was being lectured about my choice of words because of the personal preferences of the listener. There was no intent to insult, demean, or encourage the use of guns. Certainly it is a personal choice of the listener not to use this phrase. But I think I should be free to use such a phrase, that bears with it no intent to offend. I’m beginning to think that, while the feelings of the culture warriors and those who are traumatized (or could be traumatized) matter, the feelings of those with no bad intent are not taken into account at all.
Honestly, I’ve had enough of this silliness. I, of course, was not trying to make anyone uncomfortable. It is a statement much like, “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” or “I was red with anger.” I’m not contemplating eating a horse, nor am I turning color, any more than I’m really contemplating shooting myself. These are just turns of phrases. To suggest I wanted to shoot myself is not unlike the currently popular, “just kill me now” when listening to an interminable speech or hearing someone pontificate endlessly.
Does anyone really believe my speech was intended to encourage an act of self-harm? These throw-away sayings hardly are directives. There is less here than meets the eye.
We are now in an age where any word or phrase might be misinterpreted or could be interpreted by the listener as somehow offending their sensibilities. To this, I say, “your constant correcting of my language is making me feel uncomfortable.” You are, in effect, through a series of corrections, humiliating me in front of others, in effect committing a series of micro-aggressions against me—knowingly and unkindly. And I’m not at all comfortable.
Have a great day,
Glenn
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