THE LORD OF THE PLASTIC REVOLVING BOOK RACK

My local grocery store has a paperback book rack that I’d never really noticed before. This time I noticed it and brushed by, supercilious nose in the air. What literary nourishment could I possibly find at Nelsons County Market? But then I had a flashback – to a time when I did, indeed, find a number of interesting books displayed in just this kind of rack.

When I was a senior in high school, I did not disdain such displays. Miss Zamow, my A.P. English teacher, had ignited an interest in reading, and whenever I was in the drug store in Baken Park (Rapid City’s first strip mall – this was 1964, it had to have been one of the first strip malls in the country), I’d spend long minutes twirling the plastic tower of books, hoping to find something as engaging as “Return of the Native” – our most recent A.P. assignment.  (Although I’ve tried in vain to convince my daughters that I was not, in fact, a nerd in high school, they’ve, alas, seen the class photos. I’m afraid I’ll have to admit that the best way to picture this scene is to imagine that kid from Napoleon Dynamite listlessly watching the books whirl by on the rotating rack.) Anyway, it is at that very rack that I discovered Solzenhitsyn’s “One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich.” Who knew! A world classic at Rexall.

Later, a spin of the same carousel brought forth “The Lord of the Flies,” then (speaking of spinning carousels), Bradbury’s “Something Wicked This Way Comes.” (No one evokes a midwestern boys' world like Ray Bradbury.)

After my first year of college I had a job in a small town in far northeastern South Dakota. In another drug store at another plastic rack I picked up a book called “The Lord of the Rings” because the title reminded me of that other “Lord” book that I had recently read. I took it back to my room, opened it, and didn't close it until I got to the end, saw with panic that it "continued in Book Two," jumped into my car, and zoomed almost frantically among the other small towns of that quadrant of South Dakota until, on another rack in some other corner pharmacy, I finally came upon “The Two Towers.” (A week later the cover headline on Time Magazine was “Lord of the Rings Sweeps the Nation’s Campuses.” Thus, I’ve always taken credit for being the American discoverer of J.R.R. Tolkien.)

A few years later, visiting my wife’s farm home, we drove into town on some errands. Another small town, yet another Rexall Drug Store. This time it was the fat paperback edition of “Lonesome Dove.” I had never heard of it or Larry McMurtry – so once again a good read was accompanied by the joy of discovery.

I could go on. Actually, I couldn’t. From that time on I graduated to the world of funky neighborhood book shops, Barnes and Noble, and, now, Amazon – leaving the paperback racks circling backward into the past.  But I wonder? Have I been missing something? Just when I’ve discovered Whole Foods, the Atlantic food editor is recommending the produce and groceries of Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart! Should I, in fact, be looking among the paperbound spy thrillers and bodice-rippers next to the film department at Walgreens to find (or even discover!) the next great contribution to world lit?

It would be a good ending for this essay if I could report that I went back to that grocery store book display and found “The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind” or “The Sonnets of John Donne: A New Interpretation.” But I didn’t. I didn’t go back, that is. But next time I walk by, I’m going to pause … and look… hopefully….

THE THINGS THAT MAKE FOR PEACE V: "You & I"

"Let us then pursue the things that make for peace and build up the common life." ~ Romans 14:19

"Speaking the truth in love..." ~ Ephesians 4:15

Imagine that you are at a community meeting to discuss whether to build a new school or remodel the old one. You have just found the courage to stand and speak a word in favor of saving the old school, explaining your reasoning. A neighbor sitting nearby stands and says, "You're crazy! You don't know what you're talking about! You just want the bricks to come crashing down on our kids’ heads!” How would you feel? What would your emotional state of mind be like? How would you feel about your neighbor at that moment? Now imagine the same scene. This time, following your speech, your neighbor stands and says, "I disagree; here's how I see it . . ." and goes on to explain his point-of-view.

In the first instance, the neighbor was labeling you, challenging your intelligence, and – most egregiously – taking the liberty of describing your position in words you had not chosen.  In the second, he was expressing an opinion of his own. In the first example the neighbor was almost picking a fight with you personally; in the second he was participating in the general debate and conversation. Even though it may never be comfortable to have someone disagree with you publicly, the anxiety level surrounding the second example is much lower than that generated by the first. It is much more "civilized."

In the first example, above, the neighbor replied with a "you" statement; in the second, he used an "I" statement.  Your reaction to the accusation of "You're crazy…" would likely be either to sit down in red-faced anger and embarrassment, or to respond with "Oh, yeah?..." and jump into the verbal fight. (In addition, you might be much more timid in the future about speaking your mind.) The "you" statement almost automatically invites argument. The "I" statement invites dialogue.

Here's another way to look at it: If I say to you, "You're wrong," (or "you're stupid," or any other "you" statement) you can (and probably should) argue with me, because not only do you not think that you're wrong – your intellect and grasp of the facts are also being challenged. If, however, I say, "I disagree," you might debate the facts with me, but you can't argue with that statement; it would be absurd for you to say, "No you don't disagree with me!" (I've come to appreciate "I disagree" as one of the most useful I statements. As noted above, it's a good one to use for civilized debate; it also has the effect of being surprisingly disarming when you're accosted by someone who's actually looking to start an argument.)

The you/I dynamic is a very important idea in family communication. "You" statements, especially accusatory ones, almost always raise the level of anxiety and lead to hurt feelings or a fight. Accusatory "you" statements say, "I don't care what you think about you. I am standing in judgment of you and here's what I have decided about you;" they are based on the power differential between parent and child and have about them a decisive "case-closed" feeling. "I" statements, on the other hand, say, "let's talk;" they contain the inviting sense of "what do you think?"

The "I" statement is an example of a technique that can be learned and practiced. In a situation of rising anger, for example, a parent can stop herself from saying "You're just lazy!" and instead say, "I'm angry because you went to the movies without making your bed!" The child can argue about being lazy; the child can't argue about whether or not mom is angry (or if the bed is made!). As with other techniques, this one becomes more natural with use.

I am grateful to the late renowned child psychologist Haim Ginott for his practical suggestions regarding this kind of communication between parents and children. One of Dr. Ginott's particularly novel and helpful insights is that parents may wish to be cautious in the use of "you" statements even when communicating praise. Ginnott points out that to praise a five-year-old’s drawing by saying, "You are a great artist!" may lay a heavier burden of artistic achievement on the child's image of herself than she is able to accept, and – once again – the "you" statement invites argument. ("I am not a great artist!”) On the other hand, a statement such as, "I like this drawing!" expresses how the adult feels, and is not open to argument. The child may feel how she wishes about her drawing, but she also knows how someone else feels about it. And, in the case of this example, she can take pride in the fact that an adult likes her drawing without taking on the burden of being a "great artist."

As with other techniques, it is easy to parody this one. As a friend once put it, “The ‘you statement’ is ‘You’re a jerk.’ The ‘I statement’ is ‘I think you’re a jerk.’” Yuk, yuk. Still, I’m happy to recommend this simple approach to healthy communication. It works.

(This is the last in a series on healthy communication. For a general introduction to the series, see this post.)

THE THINGS THAT MAKE FOR PEACE IV: "Speak For Yourself"

"Let us then pursue the things that make for peace and build up the common life." ~ Romans 14:19

(Note: I lied in my last post, saying that this would be the final installment in this series. Actually, I'm going to do one more. I know you can't wait!)

"Speak For Yourself, Part I: The Triangle Trap"

One of the good things about living in Alaska – which we did for about six years when our children were young – was receiving visits from friends and family who took our presence in the Last Frontier as an opportunity for the great Alaskan tour. On one of those occasions, when my sister’s family was visiting, we were belting ourselves into the van in preparation for heading up to Mt. McKinley when I became aware of a commotion in the back seat. My niece, Sarah, and her cousin, Beret (they were ten or eleven years old at the time), were having one of those predictable tussles about who got to sit by the window. I turned around and started to intervene, “Sarah you sit here and Beret, you sit…” when Sarah interrupted me, “You’re outta this, Uncle Dick!” I turned back around. Sarah was right. Allowing for appropriate adult constraints against violence or unfair behavior, it was advisable to let the two combatants settle it for themselves. I had been trying to initiate a triangle. And triangles are hardly ever helpful.

Here’s another scenario (this one is made up): You are a sales manager and as you arrive at work on Monday morning, a co-worker greets you by saying, "Mr. Jones (your boss) was really unhappy with your work on the Smith contract." You would undoubtedly feel anxious and unhappy. And imagine further that you hear nothing from Mr. Jones himself on the matter for the entire week. What would your attitude be during that week? How would you feel about coming to work each day? You'd most likely be somewhat miserable, apprehensive, and perhaps even angry. Why? Because you were caught in a triangle trap. Instead of hearing directly from Mr. Jones, you heard a third-party report from your co-worker. Beyond that, you're not even sure that what you've been told is accurate – you're not certain what Mr. Jones is really thinking. It may even be an innocent misunderstanding or baseless rumor. You don't know what – if anything – you should say to Mr. Jones.

Imagine, on the other hand, that Mr. Jones comes to your office on Monday morning and says, "I need to have a word with you about the Smith contract," and went on to describe one or two things he is dissatisfied with.  It's never any fun to be criticized by your boss, but at least in this situation you know exactly what he's thinking, you have an opportunity to clarify any misconceptions, and you have a chance – if necessary – to let him know how you feel. And when the uncomfortable Monday-morning session is behind you, you'll be more likely to breathe easier and see the rest of the week as a time of opportunity rather than dread. Mr. Jones has done you the favor of bringing the criticism to you directly. He hasn't involved you in a triangle.

Triangles (what Family Systems Theory calls "emotional triangles") all have the same shape, but they come in many variations. What they have in common is that they interfere with direct communication. Triangling is a way of avoiding "straight talk." The simple antidote to triangling, according to Edwin Friedman in Generation to Generation, is de-triangling: Finding one way or another to eliminate that third leg – the third person – and get two people involved directly. The simplest de-triangling response to an A-B-C triangle is for person A to report to person C what person B has said about them. For example, in the hypothetical office situation described above, the confused sales manager might go directly to Mr. Jones and ask to clarify the situation, reporting what has been said. (This, of course, assumes a basic level of mental and emotional health on the part of Mr. Jones.)

Here are two more common triangle traps (there are dozens):

1) “People are saying….” I serve in a context where this kind of statement is sometimes heard. After many years of experience, I can now assert authoritatively: 99.5% of the time the one who utters this comment is speaking for him/herself – and maybe one crony (and that is probably someone who nodded tentatively while the speaker was opining).  My de-triangling prescription is to say, “Lydia/Hank, unless you bring ten or twenty people with you here into my office, I won’t believe you.”

2) “Just wait till your father gets home” (and variations on that theme). In addition to signaling to junior that (in this case) mom doesn’t have any parental authority and that dad is the “boss” in an unequal family system, this comment has the effect of making dad a bad guy in the father-child relationship. De-triangling? Mom deals with it as it happens. Here’s one of those variations. I once caught myself saying (just once, thankfully), “Anna, mom wants you to practice the piano now.” (Message: If it wasn’t for mean old mom, what a good time you could be having!)

I’ve tried to think of a healthy triangle. The only one I can come up with is if Harry tells Bill what a great guy Ralph is. Otherwise, if you’re tempted triangle-ward, remember, “You’re outta this.” 

Next post: "Speak For Yourself II: You & I"

(For a general introduction to this series, see this post.)