Stevie Wonder Had It Right All Along...
Donald Trump fired FBI Director James Comey yesterday. No actual reason, of course. Why would he need that, he's Trump and likely has dementia. He probably has periods where he still thinks he is in a Reality TV Show. Comey, you're fired. And then he turns to Ivanka and Donald, Jr. to justify his decision. Really what are they going to say. You're right, dad. Some analysts are saying this is the worst Presidential action since Nixon. Well, I've been watching the news shows. I have seen over four hours of coverage that rarely things have been repeating. The story is that surprising and intriguing. All that makes sense to me is that under Comey's leadership, the FBI were on the verge of a direct correlation between Russia and the election result.
However, what also makes sense to me is that millions of Americans are breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Not about Comey, of course. No one could really care less. What Americans do care about is that this weekend is Mother's Day and that means people who share the same last name will be forced to get together. It looks like it is going to be an amazing weekend so there will be lots of picnics, brunches, barbeques. Some Americans may have to have two family gatherings in one weekend. Now, that is something that scares people. Getting together with the family and having nothing to talk about. Now this. A wonderful solution. People can talk about this all weekend. Everyone will have a theory. Everyone will have heard a unique commentary that they can pass off as their own.
It is not just Americans, it is our society. We don't know how to talk to each other anymore. All we can do is small talk.
Why do so many millions meet their match online? Ironically, there is something about no physical contact that creates a unique emotional connection. Basically, you can't small talk online. You have to move beyond that in order for the relationship to progress. You have to share things about yourself. And it is pretty easy, most of us are dying to share these things. So, why is it so hard to share in person? Why is it so hard to trust those we love? What are we afraid of?
I am imagining those Mother's Day barbeques. It is not hard to imagine because I've been to lots of them. "How is the job going?" "The job is going great." That's always the answer, regardless of what the answer really is. When my ex-husband and I used to go to these obligations, people would ask how we were doing but they actually didn't care. They were making small talk. We would say, "Great!" The person would move on to the next person to make small talk with. One time I started crying and said, "not great at all." The person who asked the question didn't even listen because I had strayed off-script. He said, "well, that's great" and moved on. It didn't matter that I was unable to do small talk because that was all that anyone wanted to hear.
I used to work in a hospital as an Adult Mental Health Counselor. I used to see a lot of men. I heard a lot of deep dark secrets that they never had told another person in the world. It wasn't easy for them. They usually needed two or three sessions to work up the courage to tell me. They would warn me it was coming. They told me they just needed a little time. They would have a lot of tears leading up to this. Some would visibly shake and then, finally, they were able to release this deep dark secret. The physical release was obvious. They actually looked like a 100 lb weight had been lifted from them. And then, they would look at me. And I would think, ok, I'm on. I have to convey a supportive non-judgmental response. It would be really hard, because it turned out I was usually disappointed. Their "closely guarded" secret was usually common knowledge or something that I had figured out during our intake session. I wished they could have atleast "spiced" it up a little. It often felt like a waste of time.
The worst thing was what happened next. The men felt wonderful. They really felt like a great burden had been lifted from them. And what would they do? They would go home to their wives of 20+ years and tell them how good they felt. Sometimes, they would feel so good that they would tell their wives that they just shared with me something that they had never told anyone before. The wives would feel betrayed and I couldn't blame them. Why can you tell a stranger something that you can't even share with your partner in life? The wives would then call for a session themselves to check me out or the individual counseling would turn into couples counseling. The original reason the man started counseling would then be lost.
All because we are a society that only feels comfortable making small talk, especially those we love. What are we afraid of? Why do we think so little of the people we love that we can't be real?
My heart literally breaks for those of the LGBTQ community who fear that their loved ones will reject them for who they are. I can't imagine that fear, but, I remember once dating a man of a different race. I was so scared to tell my dad. I asked my brother-in-law for advice. He made a really funny joke about it. It was funny, but it didn't give me the courage to tell my father. I didn't tell my dad because I was scared. I continued the relationship and it got more serious. The relationship progressed so that I would either have to tell my dad or have to cut off my relationship with my father so that I wouldn't have to explain why his grand-children were inter-racial. I chose to end the relationship with my boyfriend. I can't allow myself to look back because it would be too painful. Meanwhile, everyone in the world who knew my dad would say that I was his whole world. No one in the world would ever believe that my dad would ever turn his back on me. Yet, I was scared. In my mind, it was easier to just make small talk. Maybe I didn't love my dad as much as I think I did. The evidence suggests I didn't trust him. And I may have turned my back on a life of happiness because of it.
My oldest sister died about 5 years ago. The pain I feel for her loss is very real. I tell people the reason that I took it so hard was because losing my sister made me confront my only mortality. That is not true. The reason I took my sister's death so hard was because I never felt she loved me. My sister and I could never go beyond small talk. My sister suffered from depression and she suffered for years. She hid it from the world and she never told me. The only reason I know is because everyone knew. She tried to hide it by having the perfect life, but everyone knew. We all respected her by not saying anything. But, she told my mom. My mom and her were really close. They would talk for hours and I think she was the only one my sister confided in. When there was occasion for us to be together, my sister and my mom used to sneak off to talk privately and I would be left alone. I would be so mad at my sister that she couldn't trust me. It was hard on my mom, too. She truly wanted our family to be one that didn`t keep secrets.
One day my mom phoned me up and she was the most excited I had heard her since the birth of her latest grand-child. She had just gotten off the phone with my sister. She said my sister was at the lowest point of her life and she was completely vulnerable. My mom told me that she would talk to anyone. Now, was my chance. Casually phone my sister and then we would have this real conversation and that would be the beginning of a relationship. I have to admit I was a little excited and I phoned my sister. She was stoic and unemotional. Things were fine. She wouldn`t give anything up. Small talk.
I am no longer angry with my sister. I know now she was doing the best she could. We still maintained a superficial relationship. She wintered in Texas. We would talk weekly on the phone and our small talk consisted of a discussion of which time zone we were both in. Presumably, we both knew what time zone each other we were in, but that is really all we had to talk about. And, we managed to keep that conversation going year round. Even in the summer, all we would talk about was the hour difference between us during the winter. There was more than an hour difference between us. Now that she is gone, I`m angry at myself. I never got a chance to tell her that I knew she had a disease but that she was still my hero and I loved everything about her. I guess I never told her because I was scared of what her answer would be.
Why do we honestly think that small talk is better than actual talk. There is no easy answer, but I think Stevie Wonder has the best instinct. ``I just called to say I love you. I just called to say how much I care.`` After that, small talk is pretty hard.
Someone that means a lot to me just called to say hi. We used to be beyond small talk and now we`re back to small talk. I guess it is time for me to catch up on the news. It looks like we`ll be talking a lot about Comey being fired.
However, what also makes sense to me is that millions of Americans are breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Not about Comey, of course. No one could really care less. What Americans do care about is that this weekend is Mother's Day and that means people who share the same last name will be forced to get together. It looks like it is going to be an amazing weekend so there will be lots of picnics, brunches, barbeques. Some Americans may have to have two family gatherings in one weekend. Now, that is something that scares people. Getting together with the family and having nothing to talk about. Now this. A wonderful solution. People can talk about this all weekend. Everyone will have a theory. Everyone will have heard a unique commentary that they can pass off as their own.
It is not just Americans, it is our society. We don't know how to talk to each other anymore. All we can do is small talk.
Why do so many millions meet their match online? Ironically, there is something about no physical contact that creates a unique emotional connection. Basically, you can't small talk online. You have to move beyond that in order for the relationship to progress. You have to share things about yourself. And it is pretty easy, most of us are dying to share these things. So, why is it so hard to share in person? Why is it so hard to trust those we love? What are we afraid of?
I am imagining those Mother's Day barbeques. It is not hard to imagine because I've been to lots of them. "How is the job going?" "The job is going great." That's always the answer, regardless of what the answer really is. When my ex-husband and I used to go to these obligations, people would ask how we were doing but they actually didn't care. They were making small talk. We would say, "Great!" The person would move on to the next person to make small talk with. One time I started crying and said, "not great at all." The person who asked the question didn't even listen because I had strayed off-script. He said, "well, that's great" and moved on. It didn't matter that I was unable to do small talk because that was all that anyone wanted to hear.
I used to work in a hospital as an Adult Mental Health Counselor. I used to see a lot of men. I heard a lot of deep dark secrets that they never had told another person in the world. It wasn't easy for them. They usually needed two or three sessions to work up the courage to tell me. They would warn me it was coming. They told me they just needed a little time. They would have a lot of tears leading up to this. Some would visibly shake and then, finally, they were able to release this deep dark secret. The physical release was obvious. They actually looked like a 100 lb weight had been lifted from them. And then, they would look at me. And I would think, ok, I'm on. I have to convey a supportive non-judgmental response. It would be really hard, because it turned out I was usually disappointed. Their "closely guarded" secret was usually common knowledge or something that I had figured out during our intake session. I wished they could have atleast "spiced" it up a little. It often felt like a waste of time.
The worst thing was what happened next. The men felt wonderful. They really felt like a great burden had been lifted from them. And what would they do? They would go home to their wives of 20+ years and tell them how good they felt. Sometimes, they would feel so good that they would tell their wives that they just shared with me something that they had never told anyone before. The wives would feel betrayed and I couldn't blame them. Why can you tell a stranger something that you can't even share with your partner in life? The wives would then call for a session themselves to check me out or the individual counseling would turn into couples counseling. The original reason the man started counseling would then be lost.
All because we are a society that only feels comfortable making small talk, especially those we love. What are we afraid of? Why do we think so little of the people we love that we can't be real?
My heart literally breaks for those of the LGBTQ community who fear that their loved ones will reject them for who they are. I can't imagine that fear, but, I remember once dating a man of a different race. I was so scared to tell my dad. I asked my brother-in-law for advice. He made a really funny joke about it. It was funny, but it didn't give me the courage to tell my father. I didn't tell my dad because I was scared. I continued the relationship and it got more serious. The relationship progressed so that I would either have to tell my dad or have to cut off my relationship with my father so that I wouldn't have to explain why his grand-children were inter-racial. I chose to end the relationship with my boyfriend. I can't allow myself to look back because it would be too painful. Meanwhile, everyone in the world who knew my dad would say that I was his whole world. No one in the world would ever believe that my dad would ever turn his back on me. Yet, I was scared. In my mind, it was easier to just make small talk. Maybe I didn't love my dad as much as I think I did. The evidence suggests I didn't trust him. And I may have turned my back on a life of happiness because of it.
My oldest sister died about 5 years ago. The pain I feel for her loss is very real. I tell people the reason that I took it so hard was because losing my sister made me confront my only mortality. That is not true. The reason I took my sister's death so hard was because I never felt she loved me. My sister and I could never go beyond small talk. My sister suffered from depression and she suffered for years. She hid it from the world and she never told me. The only reason I know is because everyone knew. She tried to hide it by having the perfect life, but everyone knew. We all respected her by not saying anything. But, she told my mom. My mom and her were really close. They would talk for hours and I think she was the only one my sister confided in. When there was occasion for us to be together, my sister and my mom used to sneak off to talk privately and I would be left alone. I would be so mad at my sister that she couldn't trust me. It was hard on my mom, too. She truly wanted our family to be one that didn`t keep secrets.
One day my mom phoned me up and she was the most excited I had heard her since the birth of her latest grand-child. She had just gotten off the phone with my sister. She said my sister was at the lowest point of her life and she was completely vulnerable. My mom told me that she would talk to anyone. Now, was my chance. Casually phone my sister and then we would have this real conversation and that would be the beginning of a relationship. I have to admit I was a little excited and I phoned my sister. She was stoic and unemotional. Things were fine. She wouldn`t give anything up. Small talk.
I am no longer angry with my sister. I know now she was doing the best she could. We still maintained a superficial relationship. She wintered in Texas. We would talk weekly on the phone and our small talk consisted of a discussion of which time zone we were both in. Presumably, we both knew what time zone each other we were in, but that is really all we had to talk about. And, we managed to keep that conversation going year round. Even in the summer, all we would talk about was the hour difference between us during the winter. There was more than an hour difference between us. Now that she is gone, I`m angry at myself. I never got a chance to tell her that I knew she had a disease but that she was still my hero and I loved everything about her. I guess I never told her because I was scared of what her answer would be.
Why do we honestly think that small talk is better than actual talk. There is no easy answer, but I think Stevie Wonder has the best instinct. ``I just called to say I love you. I just called to say how much I care.`` After that, small talk is pretty hard.
Someone that means a lot to me just called to say hi. We used to be beyond small talk and now we`re back to small talk. I guess it is time for me to catch up on the news. It looks like we`ll be talking a lot about Comey being fired.
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