Listening is hard

and not about you...

Early morning PT today. My nerves are waking up and I was combating my overly tight hamstrings by stretching stretching stretching. Yeah.. too much and caused some problems with my left heel. Golly. Hence… PT.

So I’m on the bike warming up and I look over and notice that a whole new section of wall is now covered by a fancy schmancy mirror. I comment to the PT helper guy that it looks nice. He said, yeah they put it in two days ago and were like, super fast. They even had to drill holes for outlets and a railing thing.

My therapist came in. She had overheard me from the other room and told me that I was the first one to notice the new mirror wall in two days. We then went on to talk about other things that folks don’t notice… like haircuts. For me - folks don’t notice when I switch from beard to no beard. I mean… I think it makes me look drastically different but folks won’t notice. They do notice if I put in contacts and go without glasses. Always fascinates me.

Makes me think a little about how oblivious folks can be. Is it self centered? Is it just that so much is going on it’s hard to keep track of anything else? I don’t know. I try to be aware. I’m always amazed on the rec trail when there are folks just wandering down the center of the path despite all the bikes and runners and other users. They seem to be totally unaware of the world around them. In the way, yet oblivious.

And so many will walk by a giant blue heron that’s 10’ from the trail and not even notice. One flew along my car the other day as I drove down the highway. Amazing. I wonder if anyone else noticed.

It’s a lot of listening. Eyes, ears, nose - all the senses. And we’re over stimulated and maybe we feel like no one is listening to us.

After PT today I went to a cafe for a coffee and some food. Seating was open when I got there so I took a two seater near a window. Not long after I sat down, my americano and tasty lox and bagel arrived. Yum. I didn’t even have time to start writing in my notebook. Nosh nosh.

Before I was done with my food some older ladies had begun to filter in and take over a double table near me. Then, as I sat writing a little poem an older fellow came up and placed his hand on my table. “Is anyone sitting here?” “Uh, no”. I look around and now every table inside is full. Interesting. He’s holding a little, not very attractive, dog in a pink outfit. He’s gray haired and by appearances, at least 20 years my senior. He puts his man purse down and asks me to guard it and goes back out to his truck. When he returns he has a pile of Carmel Pinecones, Monterey Weeklies and some other local papers. “I’m the paper boy, want one?” “no thanks. He sets the pile down on the table. He puts a dog bed under the table and places the dog there. Interesting. He pairs up a couple sets of papers and hands a set to each of the ladies at the table.. returns and starts talking.

He’s from Arkansas. One day when he was a kid his stepdad beat him. He went out front and sat on the porch, face all bloody. His grandparents drove up. Grandad came out with a shotgun. Grandma at this side. Grandpa pounded on the door. Stepdad came out and was forced face down on the ground amongst all sorts of chiggers and nasty biting insects and had to squirm for a while. He left with his grandparents to live with them. They had over 50 acres. A black family with two young boys lived on the property. He and the two boys took care of the chickens and milked the cows and stuff.

Not long after the mother of the boys approached his grandparents and offered to take him off their hands - let him live with us. Grandma said okay, on one condition. Only if you promise to treat him just like your own boys and not take it easy on him. Deal. And so he grew up in a black household in Arkansas.

Years later he inherited 16 of the acres from his grandparents. He put in two double wides and offered it up to his brothers and their wives. They moved in and live there still. First time he went back to visit his brothers told him that they had to alert all the neighbors that he was coming. When he got there every house he drove by had a black person on the front porch, rockin’ and watching. At a big local neighborhood party a couple of the locals were giving him a hard time as the only white guy there. His brother took hold of one of them, punched him in the gut and said “don’t you treat my brother like that”. There haven’t been any issues since then. He goes back every year and they are always thrilled to see him.

His wife does taxes for rich people in Carmel.

He was a roofer. Then a sheriff.

When I tried to say something about myself he looked away and then delivered another pair of papers to a new woman that had come in. “They call me the paper boy” “I get hugs when I leave”. “only one of them doesn’t like me. I went to sit with her one day and she asked me not to sit there. I told her she didn’t own the chair but I would respect her wishes” and then he looked at me as if expecting a response.

I just looked at him and nodded. I tried to say something about my year in Georgia. He ignored me.

His food came. He picked out some sausage and dropped on the floor next to his dog.

I finished my coffee and gathered up my stuff to go. He says “I’m here on Friday and Saturday mornings. I’m going to move to your side to get out of the sun”. He was in my seat before I was out the door.

I enjoyed the show. The coffee was good. The lox and bagel were good. The stories he told were good… but somehow I didn’t feel welcome and I’m not likely to go back. I don’t mind listening… I was entertained by the morning… but no reciprocation kind of sucks.

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Are you surprised by the rain or surprised that no one else saw the giant clouds approaching?

This storm got us a little wet.

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I don’t really think of myself as being an expert at anything. I’m generally competent. I think I have good common sense. I try to be understanding and moral. Taking advantage of people is honestly, just not in my play book. I feel guilty about things I do accidentally that hurt others. Doing something to intentionally hurt them? Yeah - no.

Do I hurt people? Yeah, sometimes. Could be because I’m not listening properly.

The other day I was called out for being un-empathetic, mean, callous… etc. I took it hard. I apologized. I promised to do better and to consider what I should have done differently.

I haven’t been called out for bad behavior in a long time. Katie called me out all the time. Most of the time she was right.

The woman took my apology and then took it a step further and made me feel even worse. Was she listening? Did she even hear me?

There is a lot of anger in the world. I know. I feel it too. Maybe she thought I was just another TeRible UMPire supporting white guy that had deceived her with a bit of honesty only to later reveal his true self. I don’t know… but what she gave me was certainly more than I deserved. She asked me to censor myself. She berated me for doing things I don’t do. She accused me of being a bad example but in the meantime she had skipped the actual meaning of what I had said and focused on one tiny detail that pissed her off.

I don’t want to censor myself. Certainly not for a crowd that isn’t actually listening.

I was glad she took the extra shots. As crappy as she made me feel for a day it made it very easy to just end the relationship. I don’t want to be told I need to censor myself. I don’t want to be controlled. I don’t respond well to peer pressure or inconsiderate criticism. Please at least pretend to listen or ask questions before jumping off a cliff of conclusions.

At the same time I will try not to apply pressure to get the decisions I want. I will try not to force others to censor themselves. I will also try to consider where they are coming from before jumping.

Please.

Please please.

Use your freedom. Express yourself. You can be you and if I can be me then we can both decide honestly if we want to be around each other. Censor me and you’ll never know what I’m thinking. If I censor you I will never really know you. We’ll just be living in a distorted world of suppositions.

Sometimes I have to remind myself to be kind. Listen as best I can. Be understanding. Folks like to be listened to.

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In other news.

Politics and the TeRible UMPire leave me in a general state of depression. We will be feeling this for years and years… sadly. Speak up where you can. Don’t be a silent passenger on a train car that’s going somewhere you don't want to go. Sometimes we do need to sit when we are told to stand and stand when we are told to sit.

I was unable to obtain a date to Kim Deal. Online systems failed me miserably. So many ladies list “live concerts” in their likes but who actually wants to go? erggg.. I think it was easier 20 years ago (wasn’t really easy then). Plus I’m older now and really only want to go with someone that will actually enjoy the music. I don’t want to sit there wondering the whole time if they’d rather leave. So… instead of settling or being sad or skipping so I don’t have to go alone... I’ll go alone and focus on enjoying the show. I hope it’s fantastic. I hope it rolls like a cannonball… 🙂

Closing words today…. don’t be afraid to enjoy the show.