Bridled Optimism

I do think of myself as an optimist ... a realistic optimist. I have faith in a future for myself, for M, and for our progeny. I tend to live with a presumption of good intentions ... that is, I use as a default position -- until disproved -- that whomever I'm doing commerce with -- be it emotional, relational or economic commerce
 -- is acting in good faith and dancing both as well and as fast as they can

I do have my days, though, when:

• humanity, in general, seems like an experiment doomed to failure. On those days, I worry that speech and language, in general, is good for nothing but misrepresenting reality ... good for little else than telling lies;
• people speak so quickly so that they cannot be questioned as they proceed towards a conclusion, especially not to be heard by Players in the Last Quarter whose processing skills are slowed; and
• people tend to rationalize and explain (rather than explore) all kinds of snarky interactions with each other.

Deception. Alas, I deceive, as well. Maybe not suffering a fool is not such a bad thing, even though I hesitate to tell people publicly what I think of them. I do think of myself as a Southern Frank ... not one of those Northern Europeans, THE Franks, who invaded when I wasn't paying attention in World History classes  .... no, I'm  one of those Southern Merry Franksters from So. Brooklyn (aka Coney Island) who tend to speak their minds ... street kids ... gutter snipes who are not likely to hold their tongues, at least not for long. I do battle with that propensity to tell people what I really think of the ... again, in public. Someone once said: It is preferred to cast oneself into the fiery furnace than to embarasss a friend before many.

I'll offer-up an example of my deception. It was about 35 years ago. A man who would come for consultation with me was angered by something or other that I no longer recall. I know that I can be edgy and when I heard he had gone to Dr. Bob (I can give his first name as he's long-gone to a different place to practice psychiatry on God's angels), I was pleased that he was seeking counsel from someone, even if it was Bob.

Bob and I had been part of a study group that met for years in a locked conference room on a locked ward in a psychiatric hospital. When Bob would show up late, it became common for no one to unlock the door (with its blinds pulled down) in order to let him in. Bob. Bob was both an MD and a DO but was also a TS (total schmuck), even if in many other ways he was a sweet old guy.

Bob called and made some absurd recommendation about how I might handle this fellow should he ever return for further consultation. So, there I was on the phone. I saw no gain for anyone in offending Bob or telling him that he was a TS -- I suspect he knew ... TS's can be very bright. I was caught up in my thoughts of what a schmuck he was and at a loss about what to say until I recognized that I was, indeed, full of a great many thoughts.

Ahah! I said to him in the quietest of tones: "Thanks, Bob. You've given me a great deal to think about."

Hey, that wasn't entertainment ... that was deception.

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So, Howard, remember: Deception can be the Best Part of Valor!