Once Upon a Time .... there was a youngish college professor ... as a matter of fact, he was barely more than thirty years old and thought himself capable of humor. He was -- indeed we may assume -- full of good humor or maybe he was half full of good humor and half full of ... himself. In any case, it was a Wintery Day in 1978 and his 830 AM class had already begun. Quiet as a mouse, a third-time and excellent student who had missed the previous several classes took her seat at 850 ... twenty minutes late and, as they say, two days short. The professor who, as we have said, was full of something began ragging on her and riffing on her lateness. It is lost to history exactly what he said and what is remembered is but the following.
The girl's name was Abby and she ran away from the riffing and ragging ... or, at least we know for sure, that she ran out of the class in tears. 920? Class was over and as the college professor was gathering up his props, Abby returned with the sequelae of a good cry still apparent around her reddened eyes:
"I'm sorry. I had to leave. And I'm sorry that I missed two classes and I shouldn't of been late. My Mom and Dad were divorced when I was young and live separately. I've mostly lived with my Mom. I went to visit my Dad, last week, unlocked the door thinking he was still at work and found him smelling and dead on the floor of his hallway. I think he was trying to crawl out to get some help."
Long story ... In the college professor's mind -- ever since -- there has been "The Abby Rule" which says, in short, that upon meeting someone after even a brief separation, consider before you begin to riff and rag on them that they may have just recently buried their Dad.
When was it that the internet allowed for -- more or less -- instantaneous communication between groups of people who included both near and dear and others who were strangers, maybe speaking a strange tongue. I remember being surprised by the so-called "flare-ups" of hostility that would not infrequently occur between people who as Ellen English (the late, great wife of the late, great psychoanalyst Spurgeon English) would say: Should of known better (referring to the nasty behavior between her husband and his onetime writing partner and friend Gerald Pearson). In any case, I think I came to these discussions maybe 15 years ago ... loved them and hated them. Built long-time friendships with some, passing acquaintances with others, and unpredictably uncomfortable and aggressive interactions with others.
It is popular to attribute these flare-ups and on-line animosities to difficulties with hearing the emotional intent of others. As folk as diverse as Philosophers and comedians like Louis C.K. have pointed out .... words don't have intrinsic meeting. I might say "Fuck you" to someone on line or wish them "eternity in indulging solo horizontal aerobics" and really mean "that was sweet" of "Good job," as parents are wont to say, these recent decades, to their clever toddlers. On the other hand, my "Fuck you" might mean "Lookee here, Jepthah ... Your Mother was a whore and you're a two bit general who couldn't behead a Midianite if he laid his hairy neck on your kitchen table" (Judges 12 or 13 really twisted bad! sorrrry!). The popular attribution of responsibility for the animosities that do, indeed, flare up is typically offered up to the listener's inability to know the speaker's intent.
I wonder, though, if Abby's Rule, the role that the listener's life-context carries, doesn't play a part, as well, in these contemporary kerfuffles. The speaker who opines:
"Hey, Man ... I'm being careful. I didn't capitalize nothin' ... there was no 'FUCK YOU' .... now, that woulda been nasty. No, I very carefully uttered a very quiet, barely audible 'fuck you' ... hey, it was so Friends-ee, it was almost a 'fuck thee' and s/he had the gall to get upset. I'd like to give'er a piece of my mind and I think I will." And from there, the beat goes on!
That speaker, if s/he did nothing else, forgot to pause long enough prior tio riffing and ragging good-heartedly on their Abby ... failed to pause long enough to find out if Abby is up to the task. It was about 2,000 years ago that a scholar of Sura or Pump'disa -- I forget -- said that "Everyone should say to themselves that the world was created for them" ... everyone, that is, should see themselves as if they are in the center ... that all sounds, sights and visions come to them .... that Mom and Dad were placed here on the Earth just so they could be born and raised well. Perhaps, it would be fair to say that it takes the best of us considerable time measured in decades to learn to appreciate that, indeed, Everyone ... Every single one of us may have that right ... that everyone comes to conversations with their own distant and recent histories that may or may not include traumas that may or may not have -- just this moment or week -- occurred.
"Amen, Brother Howard. Hope that's all the Sermon for this Sunday Morning! I could use me some Jo! Coffee Hour to commence, now, Fra Howard? Yeah, yeah? BTW ... Was you that Youngish Professor cause you sure enough ain't so young, anymore."
A-A-Amen!
No comments:
Post a Comment