The Smile And Nod Will End Us All

I have wanted to write about this for at least a month.

I just deleted the paragraph that would have told you why it’s been a month coming and why I couldn’t (and really, still can’t) write about it.

Also, some characters and details will be changed in any illustrations that follow.

Awesome.

There’s very little worse, to me, that seeing horrific injustices and being completely powerless to do anything but be a hapless victim to them.  Also, I hate the notion of an obligatory “smile and nod”.  These two sentiments will, I promise, tie together quite nicely all in due time.

Say you’re in a situation where you have to get along with people.  A whole bunch of people.  A whole mass of people who all have different backgrounds, personalities, prejudices, red, green, rose, blue and maybe even purple colored glasses by which to see everything filtered through.  You have to get along with them.  You also have to be a contributor to their ability to exist in the function they are meant to perform.  You’re a team.  A team of multicolored, multi-faceted people.

Now, lets say there are people who headline this team – they’re the ones with power.  Sort of.  They’re the [bat] swingers.  They swing their [bats] and hit them [balls] and set the plays in motion as they will.  Sometimes they hit home runs.  Sometimes they just hit people.  Whichever.  But they’re the ones with the [bats] and WOW, do they swing them.

So, you’re wearing your glasses of preference, be it clear or yellow or hazy smoky colored, and you’re functioning in your function.  Then, for whatever reason, the ones swinging their [bats] suddenly aren’t connecting with the right [balls].  They’re missing.  So, they go through the team and pick out someone to throw them new [balls].  They pick a few people, actually.  Those people throw them new [balls].

Then, one of those people decides to hurl a [ball] dead straight into the dugout.  Aimed directly at your forehead.  Or heart.  Whichever you function primarily with.  So, I suppose below the belt wouldn’t be out of the question.  But it’s thrown.  At YOU.

One would think that those [bat] swingers would consider the reasoning behind this selected person throwing a [ball] into the dugout instead of in the direction of something far more useful, but…

No.

They don’t question.

Instead, they hop into the dugout and swing their [bat].  At you.  Repeatedly.

Painfully.

Then they tell you it’s your fault.  You’re the one with the [ball].  This other guy said so.

[end scene]

So, maybe that’s too abstract.  Maybe it’s not.  I’m sure we’ve all been in the position of either watching someone being accused and sentenced without due trial, or maybe we’ve been the accused ourselves.  Maybe we’ve been the one doing the accusing.  Whichever our role, we’ve all seen it.  Sometimes it’s just, and sometimes it just isn’t.  Either way, we smile.  We nod.

We are forced into accepting verdicts and consequences with little control over either the past that caused them, nor the future and it’s fallout because of them.

Dropping the pretense, here’s my thought: we all need to stop with the smile and nod, and not when it’s at the end of the scene – when its at the beginning.

There are times in life when people annoy us.  They hurt us.  They do something that just rubs us the wrong way.  If that’s in a personal sphere, then it can be handled in a personal manner.  If it’s something you can get over, then the smile and nod is perfectly acceptable.  If it’s something you have every intention of storing away in your backpack of misery for future use, then please, lets stop with the smile.  And the nod.  And lets talk about it.

If it’s something that happens in a professional sphere, but has nothing to do with the performance of the job, then deal with it on a personal level.  To me, as a grown up, there is zero reason why a personal issue with another human being needs to be translated into a professional one.  I’ve worked with people I adore.  I’ve worked with people I haven’t.  I’ve never gone to anyone higher than myself to make issue of it unless it was purely performance related and detrimental to the whole of the team.

I do not understand people who do.

What’s the worst that can happen with a one-on-one discussion regarding a supposed wrong?  No really…what’s the worst?

How is whatever that worst could be any worse than the damage caused when things are translated through another, blown horrifically out of proportion, and then shoved in the face of the unknowing offender?

I am not naive enough to think that all our realms of life should be rosy and cordial and full of kindness, and that is enough to make them so.  I was discussing the dynamics of these “realms” (personal, professional, romantic, whatever) with my counselor a couple of weeks ago.  Yes.  I have a counselor.  I’m pretty sure a lot of us should.  But my lament was the lack of safety I felt within these spheres.  Being at the mercy of another human being and their whims isn’t really my favorite feeling.  She of course pointed out that a questionable sense of self could be contributing to my granting these people WAY too much power over my existence, and she’s likely completely right, but it was the other comment that left me rather bummed.

“No [insert applicable descriptor here) environment is 'safe', because they're all run by people."

Damn.

I guess there isn't a work place or social group I can think of where everyone gets along together peacefully and is genuine and kind.  There's always tension at some point, with someone.  And that sucks.  I suppose it's human nature to feel the need to swing [bats] and perpetually one-up everyone else.  And those of us that dont…we smile and nod.

The Week of April 25th, 2011

Last year we went apartment searching.  We spent literally hours driving through Costa Mesa, Huntington Beach, Orange, and I think Newport looking for a suitable home for ourselves and baby.  We found some great places, some really not so great places, and quite a few that don’t even warrant a memory.  The one that we chose to land on last year was a two bedroom place in Orange.  It was beautiful, it had plenty of room, and most importantly it was close to family.  Really, these reasons were great, but it was the sound coming from the High School located behind the complex that really let me know this was the place.  You see, this particular apartment was very close to the baseball fields of the school, and as we were viewing the apartment, all we heard in the background was the PING if the baseballs off the metal bats.  The male half of our family unit lives and breathes baseball.  That sound alone meant we were home.

Just as the soundtrack of baseball is to him, the sound of England is to me.  Last year during the World Cup, we happened to be watching a match with England at BJ’s in Huntington Beach when a group of Englishmen sat down next to us.  I smiled.  Immediately, I get the feeling of home when I hear the accent.  In conversation, in that moment, I likened it to the sound of the baseballs and the crack of a bat to him.  I’ve lived in America for nearly twenty-one years, but for whatever reason, something about the UK still feels like home.

This past week has been remarkable for both the English and naturalized American in me.  There’s been moments of sadness for the hundreds of lives lost to tornadoes and the like in the US.  There’s the celebration of a new chapter in the British Monarchy with the marriage of Prince William and Catherine Middleton.  Then, as of an hour or so ago, there’s the triumph of justice as Bin Laden has finally be taken out for good.

Not to be a bummer, but people are being such cranky babies this week.

Maybe I see things a bit differently than the majority of my circle (and by no means does that imply either higher or lower view, for the record), simply because my background is different.  I’m a “citizen” of a country other than the one I pay taxes to.  I’m still a green card carrying legal immigrant, rather than a US citizen.  The reasons for that are many, and only half of which people tend to fully understand once they’re explained.  No matter the reasons, the reality remains that my home country is England, and my current residence is America.  Of course the interest in social events is elective, but as I stated above, the goings on of the Brits is still something close to my heart.  Naturally, the marriage of Prince William (because other than this sentence, I refuse to use the over-used term “Royal Wedding”) was of interest to me.  Yes, I was up at 1am glued to BBC America.  Yes, I waited in anticipation of what both he and she would look like on their wedding day.  Yes, I thought she was appropriately and conservatively stunning, just as she should have been.  I was as enraptured at this moment as I was that day over a decade ago…

I remember the night that Princess Diana died very clearly.  I was in Jr. High School.  I came downstairs that night to find my mother and father captivated by the television in a way I don’t think I have seen, before or since.  I remember what that room looked like.  I remember our worn and faded couches with their pinkish-peachish-floral nonsense.  It was dark outside.  I remember watching the coverage as her condition was updated from “Severe”, to “Critical”, and then ages later the most damning of statements of…

“Diana has succumbed to her injuries, and has died.”

We were in shock.  We all wept.  My parents were married just a few years before Diana and Prince Charles, and Prince William is about the age of one of my brothers.  We grew up with these people, to some extent.  The tragedy hit us just as JFK must have done for Americans.  Even though our heartstrings were fully attached to what was going on, I remember the ridiculous coverage that continued in the weeks and months to follow.  I remember how every channel had “Farewell to a Princess” as its on-screen-watermark.  I remember the re-plays of the funeral.  Perhaps it was excessive, perhaps it wasn’t, but one thing I don’t remember is the kind of nastiness that’s come out this past week from those around me.

Weddings aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.  I recognize that.  What I don’t recognize is the need to criticize, to mock, to try to one-up, or even to question the justification of said wedding in terms of the money spent etc.  Why isn’t it possible to let those who care to enjoy, enjoy, without the trumpeters of cranky pants blaring at the top of their lungs on Facebook and Twitter?  This evening, I find myself in a pretty uncomfortable state somewhere between irate and disappointed at a surprisingly large portion of those I love dearly.

Today, about two hours ago now, Obama announced the demise of Osama Bin Laden.  I, with all my background and interests, was favorable towards the news.  I remember very well the morning of 9/11.  I remember the days that followed.  I understand the meaning in this man’s execution.  I get it.

What I don’t get is the need to give the metaphorical finger to both the British or anyone who happens to have held interest in the wedding this past Friday.

The wedding happened, and to some people it mattered and mattered dearly.

The death of Bin Laden happened, and to some people it mattered and mattered dearly.

Why on earth do these things need to be mentioned in the same sentence?

It is sincerely upsetting to me that people have become so comfortable behind their computer screens, that they can launch grenades of negativity that explode in a public forum of the ones they supposedly love.  I have not heard a single mention of the wedding in terms of “neener neener neener” from any party who is in its favor  - be it English, or American.  And yet, as news of Osama comes out people are ready to shout from the rooftops how much more important this is than the marriage of a royal.

No one on the “Yay! Royal Wedding!” (yeah, I used it one more time) camp is saying “Oh yeah?! Well, Kates dress was better!!!”  Why is there a need to draw the spotlight?  These are two important events that happened to occur within days of each other.

And within days of hundreds dying due to weather.

Why can’t we appreciate without putting down or marginalizing?  Is that really so impossible, to let the people we love enjoy what they will, while keeping in and of ourselves the humility of a different set of interests?

I’m not saying the marriage of a monarch is the most important thing to happen this week.  Nor am I saying that the death of a terrorism mastermind is not important.  I’m just questioning the need to be a snarly cranky baby about it all.

We’re all grown ups, right?  Those of us who befriend on Facebook all care for each other to some extent, right? (currently laughing at how many words I had to put in that sentence because “love each other” just can’t seem true at this point)  I’m not against free speech, but I am against rampant negativity and one-up-manship.  That sort of palaver is something best left to children on a play yard, rather than adults supposedly in mutual respect of each other.

On the subject of the wedding and its critics…I think she played her part perfectly.  I think the scripture read by her brother was appropriate and nowhere near cliché.  I think the words spoken thereafter were profound to say the least…and reached billions of ears, whether they wanted to hear it or not.  And as for the money…from what I have heard, it was the queen who footed the bill…and pumped millions of dollars into the British economy in terms of paid jobs (those police officers weren’t free – they all were on double pay thanks to the bank holiday) and tourism – something the economy desperately needed.  To say that the money spent was atrocious is mildly humorous to me.

How is this a bad thing?  Or something to be nasty about?

And Bin Laden?  The recovering cynic in me wants to point out that it always seems like coincidentally oportunistic timing that these things are announced.  Saddam was announced as captured in time for Bush to be re-elected.  Bin Laden is now Obamas golden ticket, perhaps.  Regardless, it’s a great thing that he’s been eliminated after all this time.  I think it is justice.  I think it is overdue.  I struggle with reconciling the afore mentioned “justice” of it all, with the fact that regardless of what this man did, he was still a human being who’s life has just been extinguished…and death should never be something we welcome with joyous abandon.

I don’t think it is necessary to pit one against the other.  I think it is perfectly reasonable to be able to care about something and express that care, and to not care about something…and maybe not be so hostile about it.  How about trying to keep our peace, loved ones?  There’s enough wars in the world without starting them in our living rooms.  And peace would be neato…on this and all topics we may happen upon.