Invitation to Respond

It’s always been a challenging question even for someone like me not adept in the game of communication. Do people have a responsibility to respond when you send them a greeting, comment, update or any other form of communication? Some of my friends argue that one comment doesn’t necessarily deserve or require a response. Other friends argue just as emphatically that any communication requires at least some kind of cursory response. They argue that the initial communique is usually meant to be ‘an invitation to respond.’

I’m one of those guys who likes to hear back from anyone I’ve sent a message to unless it’s a simple comment that obviously doesn’t require a response. Every once in a while I’ll send a message to a friend and never get a response. That’s always disappointing for someone who spends an inordinate amount of time on the computer. My e-mail is only one pinke tap away and unfortunately it has become an all too familiar finger twitch at least a half dozen times an hour.

Yet I’m reminded by my smarter, better half that life doesn’t always go smoothly in that arena. There is the all too familiar circle-of-life phenomena in which friends, associates, compadres, girlfriends, classmates, roommates, pals and partners float, land, slide or otherwise come into our lives and just as quickly leave it again. It’s happened to me dozens of times in school, the service, work, voluntary organizations, trips and events. Rock solid relationships held tight by happenstance and circumstance that eventually break apart and slide away like sand on the beach.

As perplexing as people are who don’t respond so too are those who don’t follow through with initial connections. An old friend, fifty years past, wrote me out of the blue one day. Her e-mail cut straight to the point.  “You did become a writer” it said…and that was it. After fifty years it was one line and then she signed her name and suggested we become ‘friends’ on Facebook. Rather curious, I thought. My interest was piqued. After that initial contact there was some lite correspondence over time but nothing that formed a solid bond of communication. It never turned out the way I thought it might. To this day I still don’t know why.

I’m also fascinated by some people’s inability or unwillingness to keep their word or simply follow-through on promises made. We sometimes see false bravado in young men or small children. It’s part of their growing into adulthood. How is it that some adults haven’t been able to shake off that habit of somehow believing what they say to be true when we (and I suspect they) know it isn’t so? It turns out that speaking one’s mind and meaning it are not always intrinsically linked together.

I knew a skipper who had the habit of recruiting crew members for his sailboat on Lake Superior. When we first met he asked if I would be interested in ‘crewing.’ I was thrilled at the thought of sailing on Gitche Gume. He promised to call but he never did. When I bumped into him at another party he asked me the same question.  It was only after I commented to a mutual friend that I was told that ‘the skipper’ had a habit of ‘recruiting’ anytime he met someone new. He had never once followed through with his promise of taking new recruits on the high seas. It was just a social crutch he used to spice up his conversation instead of contributing something of sub-stance.

Another case in point was an occasional visitor to Palm Springs. He loved the area and was always talking about purchasing a condo there. We would often check out ‘open houses’ when he was in town. He talked and talked but never once seriously made an offer to buy. I came to realize it was just part of his routine dialogue and he never meant a word of it.

It’s exciting when past acquaintances are rekindled and friendships renewed. Then disappointing when some of those connections dissipate once again with the coming of nightfall. What’s even more disappointing is the realization that it’s the other party who doesn’t want the connection to continue. That’s happened to me on Facebook several times when old acquaintances contacted me then for some inexplicable reason never respond back again.

My interpersonal radar has gotten much better over time. I’m more adept at detecting false bravado and bull…oney from my fellow man. The other sex is something entirely different. I guess I’ll just continue to plod along making friends where I can and hope that what they tell me in the course of normal conversation has some basis in truth. I’d like to think of it as being open and honest…or at least my version of that reality.

There ought to be a course one could take in relationships, love, communication and other interpersonal social skills. Oh, I guess there already is. It’s called life.  I’ve been a student in that class for a very long time now. No graduation yet in sight.

But if any of my old friends or acquaintances gets this message, please stay in touch.

I’d love to hear from you.

The Law of Unintended Consequences

Me as a Cretin Cheerleader circa 1961

I’ve never been an outspoken person.  Nor do I think of myself as one who shoots off his big mouth without first engaging his brain…well, maybe as a cheerleader at Cretin High School.  Yet there have been several instances when my words have come back to haunt me.  Verbal stumbles that somehow distracted offended or otherwise put some people off.

Hence the weekly challenge of blog writing while finding solid footing between truth and candor verses that murky field of quicksand linguistics.

My most recent stumble came after sharing my first novel ‘Love in the A Shau’ with a dear friend of mine.  It seems that her husband took offense with my writing.  I’m not sure if it was the profanity (timely and realistic for that period and setting; a college campus and Vietnam) or the few sex scenes (mild by today’s standards).  Never the less he was offended and didn’t want my friend to see me again.  Somehow my first novel had over-shadowed our friendship of over thirty years.  We still have lunch occasionally but are careful never mention her husband or my book.

Then there was a couple that took offense to what they perceived of as a series is missteps on my part.  Upon reflection I’ve come to the conclusion that they misunderstood my comments about some of our mutual acquaintances.  In the end, a lack of communication and feedback eroded our friendship even before it had a chance to solidify.

I once made ‘friends’ on Facebook with an old work associate from back in the eighties.  I wrote him a letter reminiscing about the ‘crazy boss’ we both worked for.  Surprisingly, it turned out his recollection of that mad man wasn’t the same as mine.  This old acquaintance took offense at my comments about Dr.  Jekyll and thus ended that ‘friend’ on Facebook before it ever got started.  I never heard from him again.  It never changed my opinion about our old boss but I was sorry I might have offended that fellow in the process.

Then there was an old friend from many lives ago.  The communication between us wasn’t the clearest or most concise but it was reconnecting never-the-less.  From scratches on her emails I could sense that she was probably religious.  That fact never flavored our conversations until one of my blogs entitled ‘rug munching’ was posted.

After that blog appeared on Facebook all communication ended and I couldn’t help but wonder if my declaration of love being love and not just reserved to one man and one woman might have offended her religious sensibilities.  I never found out.  She disappeared into that vast black hole called cyberspace.

In each and every instance of misunderstanding or offense taken I’ve come to ponder my own actions and wherein the fault might lie.  On a certain level I was certainly aware that my comments might have an effect on my recipients – positive or negative.  But as I told a friend once ‘they (my comments) were open and honest.’ My words certainly weren’t meant to hurt or offend.

Call it the law of invisible consequences.  That any and all actions or comments on our part can have an impact on others.  That being said I don’t think going mute is the answer.  My blogs, postings and reflections have all been from the heart.  They were never meant to challenge, question, criticize or compromise another person’s point of view. 

But across the board what I find interesting is the inability or unwillingness to address those issues the aforementioned folks have with me and my writings or comments.  Perhaps they’re feeling a bit of ‘Minnesota Nice’ although none of these folks in question reside in Minnesota.

 

There is a parcel of blogs that I’m working on now.  I’ve reviewed each and every one to see if any of them might offend someone somehow someplace.  Beats me. 

So do I dare be honest and make comments true to my heart or censor my writing because someone might find it offensive?  Do I try to be PC or just ‘tell it as I see it?’

In the end I really don’t have any choice.  I’ve got to stand in my truth.  I’ve created this bed of words and ideas and opinions and judgement calls.  So I’ll going to continue to expose myself in cyberspace and hope I’m not misunderstood.  Or face the reaction if I am. 

It’s still telling it like it is…at least from my point of view - which is the only one I have.

Does Not Play Well with Others

I am an ISTJ…off the charts. ISTJ is an abbreviation used in the publications of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) to refer to one of sixteen personality types. ISTJ stands for Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging or put another way (Introverted Sensing with Extraverted Thinking.) So according to the Myers-Briggs, I probably shouldn’t be spending a lot of time around other people. My wife keeps threatening to buy me a t-shirt that says: ‘Does not Play Well with Others.’

If I go to a party with my wife, she leaves the place energized and wanting for more. I just want to run screaming out of the room and seal myself off in an air-tight closet for thirty years just to recover from the traumatic experience. (I exaggerate…but not much!)

Thus said, I’m probably not one to have a lot of visitors…which, of course, only happens when we’re in Palm Springs. Who wants to visit Apple Valley anyway?

I need to put in a disclaimer here…my kids are an exception to the rule. Mind you, the grand-children can still drive me crazy with their early morning shouting: ‘Papa, I’m up’ (at five in the morning). Then there is the occasional temper tantrum, five kids vying for constant attention and other normal coping challenges. But overall, family triumphs personality quirks every time.

Out of town visitors are another story.

Stay-over roomies tend to screw up my quiet time, disrupt my writing, keep me away from the gym, sit in my favorite chair, watch mindless TV early in the morning and generally cause me to wish I were in Siberia. 

Fortunately, I have a counter-balance who prevents me from becoming ‘hermit of the year.’ My wife considers entertaining an art form and one that she has a Master’s degree in it. Therefore, I am forced to confront my own shortcomings as a proper host and play the role numerous times each year.

But there are a few good things that have come from the experiences. Having guests forces me out of my daily routine and comfort level. They’ve take you to places I normally wouldn’t visit or have put on a ‘to do’ list years ago. 

Brian took me to the painted canyons in Mecca. Despite the forced march he and seven-year-old Maya forced me on, it was a fabulous exploration of a slot canyon that I can’t wait to return to.

I’ve trudged to an oasis in the Coachella Valley Preserve and through the marsh area of the Big Morongo Valley. I’ve hiked up to Keys View in Joshua Tree and watched Pelicans in the Salton Sea. 

 I’ve rubbed shoulders with elite theater folks at the Pantages at Hollywood and Vine and toed the sand in Laguna Beach. I’ve stared in wonder at art in the Getty and chaperoned garage-sales for treasures in West Hollywood. I’ve over-eaten all the lobster you can eat at a casino and looked up Marilyn’s dress in downtown Palm Springs.

It’s been a soul-searching, mind-cleansing experience and forced me to become aware of the wondrous environment all within hours of my home here.

I was once told that the best way to really get to know someone is to go camping with them. Forget about a rendezvous at Starbucks or an evening out, sharing your intimate space with someone else tops them all.

I guess as long as we’re living here in the desert, I’ll have to confront my fear of intimate-sharing and accept the fact that visitors can bring a change of pace I normally wouldn’t experience otherwise. 

In the meantime, maybe I can work on my I or S or T or J.