Civil is the Least We Can Be
“How many?”
“Hello, how are you today?”
“Fine, smoking or non?
“One, non.”
That was my welcome in the restaurant this morning.
“For here or to go?”
“Hello, how are you today?”
“Fine, for here or to go?”
That was my welcome at a fast food restaurant yesterday.
Silence.
That was my welcome at the checkout of a convenience store. She took my money, never said a word. I said, “I’m fine, thank you. Thanks for asking. Have a nice day.”
She said, “Next!”
I’ve discovered the answer to all of the world’s problems.
“Civil.” We’re not civil any more.
To be civil, we need to simply be more gracious, respectful. The dictionary says, “a minimal observance of social requirements.”
Minimal. The very least one can do is to be civil. Why not try to be more?
Imagine a world where every human being you came in contact with greeted you with a sincere, “Hello! How are you?” and really meant it.
In my presentation on Dealing with Difficult People I speak about such encounters. Whenever anyone asks me how I’m doing, I always say, “Excellent!” It shocks people. In some cases they appear to get angry with me.
“Excellent? Why are you so excellent? You don’t hear that very often!”
My reply is, “Isn’t that sad?”
In one bank, the teller yelled over to another teller, “Hey, Joe. This guy says he’s excellent.”
“Try working here!” he replied.
Society is such that when we come across that rare happy person, we mock them, find them odd, make jokes about them, and, as one person told me recently, “I want to smack them in the head!”
Civil defense. I’ve become defensive about civility.
But I’ll keep on trying to be nice even when others aren’t. In fact, I’ve gotten to like the challenge.
“Hello, how are you today?”
“Fine,” she replies. I wait for her to return the question, “How are you?” She doesn’t.
“I’m fine, too, thanks,” I say.
Then there was the lady at Sam’s Club who gives away food samples. She’s what they call a “demonstrator.”
“Marianne, I want you to see this lady. She is the rudest customer service person I know.”
We approached her and I said, “Well, Hello! How are you today?”
She paused for a moment as she handed me a small paper cup of pasta.
“This is how I am!” she said as she pointed to the package on the cart in front of her.
“As for how I am personally, it is none of your business. My well-being has nothing to do with you!”
Even I was shocked at that one. Normally she just doesn’t answer when I ask her.
“I was just trying to be friendly,” I said to her.
“Well, don’t!”
My wife stood their speechless.
Civil. The least we can be.
“Hello, my friend, how are you?”
©2007 Bob Perks
A simple “Hello” is all I ask or a warm smile to greet me.
How my day turns out for me, might depend on how you treat me.
Perhaps my day is going bad and life seems not worth living.
At every turn I feel alone and the world is unforgiving.
But then I see a smiling face, upon a caring man
He says, “Hello, my friend, how are you? I’ll help you if I can.”
I lift my head up higher, I’m weary from looking down.
I stand a little taller, I smile instead of frown.
“Thank you friend, for asking. I’m grateful that you care.
You see, a friend is what I need, I never find one there.
The fact that someone asked me, truly made my day.”
“Hello” is such a simple word not difficult to say.
Civil is the least we can be! Why not try to be more?
Happy
"I want to be happy," he said.
"Why aren't you happy now?"
"I'm empty. I'm without. I am happy-less," he said with a smile.
"What would make you happy?"
"Purpose."
"You have no purpose?"
"No."
"Then I must ask what is it you are not willing to do?"
"I'd do anything to be happy."
"Obviously not or you would be."
Silence.
"You first need to define what will make you happy."
Silence.
"I don't know. I just want to be happy. I see someone who is happy and I want it. I want to be happy, too."
"If happiness was across the street would you go there?"
"In a minute."
"If happiness were across town, would you go there."
"Certainly."
"What if happiness were in the middle of the ocean and there were no boats. Would you swim to it?"
Silence.
"Could I fly and jump out?" he asked laughing.
"What is it you are not willing to do?"
"Well..."
"You are not willing to work for it. You want to drop out of the sky and land on it."
Silence.
"Do you like the ocean?"
"Yes, yes I do," he replied.
"So, you would at least go to the ocean of happiness."
"That would be the best part," he said.
"Do you swim in the ocean?"
"Yes, but not often."
"What is the best part and the worst part about it?"
"I love to float," he said quickly.
"The worst?"
"Getting through the waves past the breaking point."
"Finding happiness is the same thing. In pursuit of it, we are often knocked down, tossed about. Depending on the day, we could easily find ourselves being pushing away, back to shore. We take a few steps and it feels cold. Just as we get used to the feeling we discover the best way to get over it is to plunge in, get wet all at once instead of tip toeing and avoiding the discomfort."
"I always do that," he said. "I jump right in."
"Some days the waves are small. Some days the waves are huge. Small waves make the journey fun and easy. Big waves can pick you up and slam you down in an instant.
Life is like that.
Happiness is calling. It's out there somewhere waiting for you. You can't see it just standing on the shore, but you know it's there. So you dive in. It always seems that the greater the reward the harder the struggle. Some never make it. They give up and end up back on the shore. Others get caught in the cross current and carried away to places they never wanted to see. Those who keep on swimming may even get to the "breaking point" as you called it and stop."
"I've certainly done that."
"Here's the problem. You jump in. You swim to the breaking point but you have no idea what you are looking for. I asked you what would make you happy and you had no idea. How would you know when you saw it?"
"I'd feel happy."
"No, happiness is not just a feeling. Happiness is a plan, a fulfillment, a completion, an arrival, a goal reached. Happiness is a moving on or a standing still. Happiness is a standing for something or standing against. Happiness is loving someone or, yes, letting go of someone. I have seen happy people who had it all and some who were happy and had nothing at all. The common thread was always knowing what made them happy."
"But I've been swimming all my life. I'm not a quitter."
"All that gets you is to the other shore. You have been swimming so long you passed happiness. Busy doesn't mean you're getting somewhere. I could walk around in circles to keep busy. All I'd get is dizzy."
Silence.
"True happiness is not some distant place or thing. True happiness is within reach, within moments, within a day, within a life, within...you."
If you want happiness, choose to be happy.
In Reality
You'll not get me into an argument about religion or politics. No one ever wins. If I am to reach someone I want to influence them by my gentle nudging and by the life I live. I have discovered that arguing only creates distance.
Frankly, the differences of opinion in both those areas excites me. I celebrate our differences.
What I try to focus on is where we are connected.
For me the most difficult thing to define is "reality."
I just had a long conversation with a friend about his perception of his life. His reality seemed dim, dark, and doomed for destruction. As hard as I tried, I could not see his life that way. He fought with me and was angry because I could not validate his demise.
Everyday I receive messages from people who have locked themselves in a cell limited only by their perceptions.
When I had my radio show a few years ago, a young man called to say, "You make me sick!" He went on to criticize my Pollyanna views of the world and life itself. I never got upset with him and continued to praise him for taking a stand like this. "No matter what you say, or how you view me, I still will see the hope I have for you and a happy life if you want it bad enough." After a few minutes speaking he suddenly said, "I've got to go." "Please don't leave, yet!" I replied. "No, I have to. I'm beginning to like you."
So I have asked myself this question, "What is my reality?" Here is what I've decided.
Reality is how I choose to see my world, not an image dictated by others.
There once was a time when I saw my life as never meeting expectations. I wasn't young enough, slim enough, tall enough, or smart enough. I didn't have the right car, clothes, house, income, attitude, or career. I wasn't raised in the right community, I didn't hang around with the right people, have the right ethnic heritage, nor go to the right school. I was foolish enough to believe this was reality.
Reality was, I was a failure, an odd ball, an outcast.
Then one day I felt this gentle nudging. I can't quite pinpoint the event or moment. Was it created in loss or was it realized in a moment of joy?
But I began to see through the barriers of the world and there, just beyond them, I discovered "Hope."
Here is what is real in my world today.
The warmth of my wife lying next to me at night giving me a sense of security and reminding me of love.
The sound of my children's voices confirming that all is well with them and knowing that they are my greatest contribution to the world.
My dogs wagging their tails when I come home...they are happy to see me. Sometimes the only ones.
The velvet touch of a rose petal between my fingers and the sweet smell it leaves behind reminds me that the finest things presented to all my human senses, are not manufactured but created by God.
The brightness of the sunrise cries out, "Celebrate! You are born again into a new day."
The gentle touch of a stranger's hand when first we say hello and connect palm to palm. Considered a ritual, a formality by some, I find it a moment of connection on a spiritual level.
The sounds of life carried by the wind; the cries of a hawk, the waves crashing on the shore, the chatter of an anxious squirrel, and the bells on a distant ice cream truck carrying with it the sweet cream treats of childhood memories.
The tears I shed for someone's pain.
The smell of fresh cut grass.
Laughter.
The wisdom of someone older than I.
The wisdom of an innocent child.
The taste of mashed potatoes and melted butter.
The smell of a turkey roasting in my oven producing instant flashbacks of family gathered around in celebration of life.
The sound, "You have mail!" on my computer.
The words, "Thank you!" "My friend," "Love," and "Hope."
Watching commercials about fast cars, designer clothes, being thin, being young, being wealthy, and knowing they aren't as important as being happy with who I am...in reality!
The List
"Did you make the list today?" "No, it seems I'm not on it. Oh, I didn't want to be any way."
"Hey, he removed my name from the list!"
"There's a list of names here and they are the finalists."
"From this list, we will pick the lead role for the play."
"Yes, I have a reservation for 2. What? My name's not on the list?"
"He's making a list and checking it twice. He's gonna find out whose naughty or nice!"
Lists are important it seems. We get excited when we see our names on certain lists and depressed when we don't. I've been on lists I wish I hadn't been on. I've made lists that surprised even me.
Here's one I want you to think about. I received this message in response to my last story about my son attending high school in the midst of all the violence these days. My story was called, "God be with him." One of my friends on this list wrote:
"Bob, Recently in my hometown a 15 year old girl committed suicide. Her note named all the school classmates who had made fun of her."
Imagine for a moment finding your name on that list. How horrible that would be.
What if our actions were tallied each day? At the end of the day your name would end up on one list or another. What if someone was keeping track of all you said and did?
Let's pretend for a moment that there were three lists. One was a list of all who were compassionate, caring, loving, giving people who made a difference in the world they lived in. Not just those striving to save the world. But the average person who took the time to listen to a stranger. The person who smiled at a passerby. The people who called to check on a friend who was ill. The volunteers who gave their time to their community. The ones who didn't respond to anger with a word of anger in return, but prayed and forgave another for their actions.
List two is everyone who turned away from the cry of the hungry, the lonely, the lost. The people who pushed and shoved their way through life so that they could get ahead. The people who in an emergency thought only of themselves and stood in line first, knowing they really didn't need it but thought they deserved it. The people who curse the homeless for the "good tax dollars we waste on them." The people who won't forgive and carry grudges and hate in their hearts forever. The people who perpetuate racism and prejudice by repeating those stupid demeaning jokes "all in fun." Those people who joined in with the rest of the crowd and mocked, ridiculed, and laughed at another.
The third list...is just as bad. They choose to do nothing. "I mind my own business. I stay out of it. It's not my responsibility. The world is going to hell and somebody should do something about it. But not me."
Imagine for a moment that those lists were made public.
Imagine for a moment that everyday you were permitted to see the lists of your friends and all whom you came in contact with that day.
What list would your name appear on?
Imagine again that beautiful 15 year old child sitting with a piece of paper in the last moments of her life. Tears and anguish, pain and sobbing filled her final moments as one by one she wrote their names on the list.
Did you make the list today?
Which one?
The Sweetheart Tree
There's a spot I love to visit just a few miles from my home. The road passes on the very edge of a state forest. The hikers can follow a trail along the ever-changing creek stopping along the way to view a few waterfalls. Closer to the parking area one can wander in far enough to feel disconnected from the world, yet comfortably close.
A few pine trees create a ceiling that blocks the sun on a hot day making it a perfect place to enjoy the shade. Mixed in among the natural setting are a few trees I call dogwood. I'm not good at recognizing the varieties that make this area so beautiful, but these burst into beautiful small white flowers right around this time of year. The sun shines softly through these branches lighting the forest floor.
I have a spot I call my own. I love to sit there and for a few brief moments not think at all.
On this visit I could hear the faint crunch of footsteps approaching from behind me. I am not much of an outdoorsman, so footsteps in the woods only brought on images of bears or dinosaurs. Okay, that's the kid in me thinking dinosaurs. Maybe an elephant or dragon.
"Hello! I hope you don't mind me sneaking up on you."
I looked around and couldn't see anyone. Now, I'm really freaking out. It was a sweet, almost angelic voice coming from somewhere.
Then, suddenly she appeared from behind a huge tree.
"I know it was right around here. I can remember that tree," she said.
"Hi! I was a little concerned. I could hear footsteps, then a voice but couldn't see anyone."
Even though the sun was shining, she was all bundled up with a sweater and scarf. She stood about 5 feet tall, if that. I would guess she had to be in her late sixties.
"May I ask what you are looking for?" I said.
"Yesterday," she replied.
"I think it went that way with last week," I said laughing.
"Oh, I came here in search of a moment in time, a memory I need to re-visit," she said.
Well you know she had my attention now.
"So, you left it here?"
"I swore it was that tree. Or maybe that one."
"Let me guess. You carved your initials in a tree many years ago and you need to find them again."
She turned slowly toward me cocking her head slightly and said, "How did you know?"
"You look like you were loved all your life," I said.
Her shoulders sank abruptly as she looked surprised that I knew.
"From the day we met," she whispered.
"And until you meet again," I added.
"You understand, don't you."
"I am an old romantic, my friend."
I believe somewhere along the trail many years ago I carved the initials of my girlfriend back then.
I can't imagine trying to find them now.
"I know they are here somewhere," she insisted.
Then she began to pace her steps from one tree to another.
"Ten this way and 22 that way. It was Oct 22, that year. That's how he told me to remember it."
Suddenly she stopped. Standing next to a tree she glanced down at the base and then raising her hand above her head she said quietly, "This tall. He was this tall...oh, I shrunk a bit, but he was just about to here."
She then began to walk slowly around the tree looking up and down.
She sighed in frustration.
"I know this was our tree. He called it The Sweetheart Tree," she said.
That, my friends was my cue. I began to sing...
"They say there's a tree in the forest,
A tree that will give you a sign;
Come along with me to the Sweetheart Tree,
Come and carve your name next to mine.
They say if you kiss the right sweetheart,
The one you've been waiting for,
Big blossoms of white will burst into sight
And your love will be true evermore."
"The Sweetheart Tree" Words & Music by Johnny Mercer & Henry Mancini Recorded by Henry Mancini in 1965 from the movie "The Great Race"
"That was it!" she whispered as she placed her hand gently over her mouth.
"Yesterday" came pouring from her eyes.
"You need not find the carving in the tree to realize like the song says, 'your love will be true evermore'."
Now, you might think I made this one up...just then a breeze passed through carrying with it the first falling blossoms of that nearby tree.
I looked at her and sang, "Big blossoms of white will burst into sight..."
"A tree that will give you a sign," I said in amazement.
"Thank you," she said and walked away.
If you ask what I value most about life...love. To love, to be loved.
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