The power of words

If I had a penny for how many times I’ve used the phrase “Use your words,” over the last two years, I’d be, as they say, rich.  My house at this time is like an intensive English-language boot camp.  My three-year-old daughter is at that stage all children pass through where her emotions far outpace her command of the English language.  Although perhaps this is a stage not restricted to childhood.  As adults putting emotions, wishes, fears, and angers into the right words is sometimes equally elusive.

So it’s no wonder that adults and precocious toddlers butt heads when communication barriers prohibit real understanding of oversized emotions.  It’s also no wonder that they pick up on the bad language that we let slip as much as the good language we so ferociously try to teach.  And as funny as it is when a pint-sized little creature lets slip a well placed four-letter word, it’s also alarming.

We are not totally to blame, children pick up bad language from everywhere and there is really no sheltering them from it.  The parenting guru’s tell us that we are supposed to simply ignore the use of a bad word and they will stop using it, otherwise we end up demonstrating just how much power a certain word can carry. 

I understand that thought in practice—ignore bad words, reward good words—but in reality I find it slightly contradictory.  I’m constantly telling my daughter just how powerful her words actually are.  “Use your words,” is the mantra, but beneath it lies the meaning: your words have incredible value and are powerful, I will listen to you and most likely grant your request if you speak nicely.  So isn’t that what we are trying to teach them, that words have power?

The powers that be also tell us to teach our children to simply ignore it if another child is mean to them on the playground.   But, if we are teaching our children to ignore both actions and words, where does that get them? 

A playground taunt frequently heard says, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”  Most likely this ageless chant came from an attempt to ignore a bully, but I wonder if it is teaching our children that their words don’t have power over others?  Perhaps a better quote to teach them would be that of Pearl Strachan: “Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs.” 

As I try to find a way to impress upon my young daughter that words and actions have a breadth of power and influence over others, I try to gain some understanding myself.

Are we, as parents, really teaching our children our own moral code, or are we teaching them what we wish our moral code would be?  At any given hour there is a stream of commands directed at children: say please, pick up your toys, brush your teeth, eat your peas.  How often do we phrase our commands to our children with as much respect as we’d like our children to speak to others?  In this case, are they learning by listening to our words or our actions?

I understand that what I say to my daughter is important and that she does hear me, even if I have to repeat myself a hundred times.  I understand that I should ignore the bad—bad words, bad behavior, bad manners, and reward the good—good words, good behavior, good manners.  As I watch what she is actually internalizing, I get the feeling that what I say matters so much less than what I do. 

I don’t know if they actually say the “sticks and stones” chant on the playground anymore, but as my daughter grows up, I will try to rise to the challenge of teaching her to be aware of both her words and actions, and maybe to develop a thick skin for those words that aren’t directed with such care.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, WA. May 30, 2012

An oldie but goody

As the days have lengthened, the sun has once again become our constant companion.  And although I am still shocked every day at just how early that sun makes its appearance, I am warmed, literally and figuratively, by its presence.  With the sun has come warmer days, bright, fragrant blossoms and the promise of those long-remembered days at the lake.  Colorama has rung in the unofficial start of the Grand Coulee summer, and Memorial Day is almost upon us, signaling that the rest of the country is ready to start summer too, officially or not.

Now that spring has firmly taken hold and summer is peaking at us from around the corner, I have found the urge to plant my garden overpowering.  In years past, I have taken into account things like long-range forecast and the last frost date, and many years my guideline has simply been when my dog sheds his winter fur.  Inexplicably, and perhaps foolishly, I have total faith that my dog is clued in to some larger cosmic weather data than I am.  This year, I was delighted to see that my large black mutt has shed his winter coat long before I remember him doing so last year.  Predictably, I was anxious to plant way too early.  So instead of just blindly trusting my canine, I decided to try a different route and check out The Old Farmer’s Almanac.

Like many people of my generation, the cover is familiar, even if the exact contents are not.  Wrongly, I have assumed that the information this little book contained was out of date and anything that was worthwhile I could find online.  Contradictorily, I also knew that this book I never found worth my time holds some sound truths that likely align with the same cosmic mystery my dog is clued in to.

I was surprised by a number of things as I thumbed through it, not the least of which was how pertinent the information was.  I was blown away to read that this is the 220^th consecutive edition of The Old Farmer’s Almanac, the first one having been printed in 1792.  I find that remarkable, especially since they have been predicting the weather with 90% accuracy using a secret formula derived by the books’ founder, with only slight additions to accommodate new technology.

I did find out some basics such as the first and last frost dates, specific 7-day forecasts for our region for the entire year, planting tips for gardens of all types, and advice on lawn care.  I also learned some quirky tidbits.  I should have planted above ground crops, such as tomatoes and peppers, when the moon was waxing and below ground crops, such as carrots and onions, when the moon was waning.  I read engrossing articles on what recent, and historical, volcanic eruptions have done to the global climate, soil quality and worldwide crop production.  I learned how to determine the precise length of our extensive twilight zone.  I learned about all the various eclipses that will take place this year all over the world (we should be able to see a partial solar eclipse on May 20th), how to predict earthquakes, and helpful hints for various outdoor calamities from snake bites to bear attacks. 

All in all, it was like taking a short, very interesting class on earth science, history, astrology, astronomy, home economics and meteorology. 

Did I find what I was looking for?  I suppose my original aim of flipping through the weather section was to find some assurance that my tiny tomato seedlings and fledgling garden was going to survive to harvest time, since my own pull for summer far outweighed any practical advice I received about planting times.  So in that regard yes, I was reassured that warm days are upon us, and will likely stretch through September.  But I also got so much more than I would have found elsewhere.  Perhaps they were on to something, back in 1792, that really does stand the test of time.

Facing my tech hesitation

A while ago, I wrote a column about how heartwarming it is to see children using their imagination in a world where most of their toys involve some sort of technology. When I think of the changes technology brings, I tend to focus on children because their world will undoubtedly be very different from the one that I grew up with. But lately I have been thinking about adults and my own feelings towards technology. What will the future bring for those of us who have come to expect the world in the way we know it?

I confess that I tend to be hesitant towards technological advancement. You might even say I have a love-hate relationship with it. I choose the facets of it that I love, and reject those that I find disruptive to my own little world.

The advent of computers and communication by email were fun and easy, but I was the last person I knew to get a cell phone, and only then because I found myself alone with a broken down car on a deserted highway in the middle of the night in the rain. A nightmare for a young woman, and one that would have been far less scary if I’d had a cell phone. Needless to say, I bought one the next day and have been happy with it ever since.

When smartphones and tablets entered our world, I became a little distrustful of the new technology. It took me some time to admit that I dislike them simply because I’m afraid of the changes it has brought.

Smartphones can be incredibly wonderful. In a debate, it is useful to know what Luke Skywalker’s haircut really did look like providing instantaneous clarification to who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s nice to know the score of the game or what the weather for tomorrow will be. But I find that these little devices seem to be taking something away from the conversational flow between people. Eye contact is less, attention spans seem to be shorter, and as time goes on I fear these little screens are becoming more of a reality than the people who surround us. In our quest to be connected all the time, have we instead denied ourselves the ability to be disconnected?

That said, I am not completely oblivious to the otherwise impossible connections this technology has brought us. Skype allows me to see my family on the other side of the country. My young daughter can get face time with family members she only sees a couple times a year. Finding a good restaurant or the nearest tourist attraction is achieved with a touch of a button. It’s almost impossible to get lost when you are holding a GPS device in your hands.

When the Kindle was announced, Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos declared, “It’s important to embrace new technologies instead of to fight them.” His statement made me feel a bit sheepish, as that is sometimes just how I feel. And while I initially resisted getting an e-reader, saying that I preferred the feel of a real book in my hands, once I actually got a Kindle I was delighted with the technology that gave me an endless library of books at my fingertips.

I never used to consider myself old-fashioned, and even now I bristle at being characterized as someone who doesn’t like technology. I applaud what technology has done for science and medicine and even entertainment. I love the ability to have my family and friends an easy phone call away. My hesitation, like many others, is rooted in a sort of fear of the unknown. I fear that the advancements will irrevocably alter the importance of some of the things I grew up with.

I know that eventually, each new technology that comes around will at some point probably become indispensable to me like the cell phone did, and I will undoubtedly love it and wonder how I ever got on without it. Perhaps my glacial pace for accepting these seemingly radical changes to my way of life will somehow prepare me better for when I finally do jump on the technological bandwagon.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. May 2, 2012