Icebergs and Judging others

One of my favorite activities in an airport is people-watching. I learned to enjoy this activity as a boy in Arkansas when my parents drove to downtown Russellville (pop 11,750 at the time), parked the car and just sat and watched the people.

In an airport, I look at everyone and think, all of these people started the day at a different house, with different family situations. They all have different challenges in life, different incomes, different attitudes. Yet all these individuals have converged at this unique place at this unique time and this event will never occur again, ever!

Wow! Too deep!

Speaking of too deep...

People are like Icebergs! Scientist say that only about 5-10% of an iceberg is seen above the surface, much like the picture below.

We interact with people everyday (at school, work, church, neighborhood) who we never really know. All we see is the 10% above the surface, but we don't know much about what's underneath: Background, fears, habits, idiosyncrasies.

This line of thinking brings me to the subject of judging others. It's really hard to make an accurate judgement of someone unless you know the other 90% that they are made up of. If we knew the part under the surface, we would have a better understanding of motivation and causation.

Joseph Smith said something like, "If you know a person's intent, then you'll know how to judge them".

Alexander Chase said, "To understand is to forgive, even one's self".

I could probably learn from these statements. Maybe if I understood why men drive big trucks, I wouldn't judge them so harshly. If I knew the back story of why couples let their little girl draw on the table, I might be more understanding. But then again, maybe not.

To be truthful, though, sometimes, I'd rather not know what's under the surface. How about you?

Nerd Attitude

Sorry I haven't posted in a few days, I'm back in Hawaii in meetings and keeping very busy. ("Poor Bluesdad, trying to make us feel bad for him that he's back in Hawaii for the second time in a month, boo-hoo")

Two nights ago, I was coerced into going to a theme party. By nature, I am not a 'dress-up' person. I feel too conspicuous. The theme was 1950's so I bought a bow tie and glasses with tape and went as a nerd.


My costume seemed to be a big hit as I got lots of compliments. One of my co-workers complimented on my costume the next day. I told her that I was a little concerned that I was able to become a good nerd with only two small pieces of wardrobe. She said, "Oh no, the two things helped, but it was all in your attitude." Aside from the two adornments, I had slumped a little and took on countenance reminiscent of Carl from Sling Blade.


Her comments certainly got me thinking. Attitude is not only a big part of who we are, it can often be the defining part of who we are. If we have the attitude of a nerd, we become a nerd. If he have the attitude of a jerk, we become a jerk. If we have the attitude of a compassionate being, we become that compassionate person. If we have the attitude of success, then success can follow.

Much of this blog has been spent lamenting over the lack of common courtesies and social stupidity I see. I wondered how much of what I perceive is because of my own attitudes. Do I go out of my way to be offended? Would I find just as many kind, considerate people, if I had an attitude of looking for them? Its certainly something to think about.

By the way, in my attempt to dress like a nerd, I thought I was dressing up. After all, we've certainly learned since high school that the nerds had it right. We should've been more like them all along.

Air Travel

I was flying home from Portland yesterday (and boy are my arms tired, sorry, I couldn't resist), sitting next to a man who didn't think the rules applied to him. He didn't turn off his cell phone when they told him to, he didn't put up his tray table when the announcement said to. If you've been following my blog, you won't be surprised that I turned to the man and said, "I bet your mama told you that your were special, didn't she?" Well, I really didn't say that, but it got me thinking about some of my pet peeves I haven't shared before; those involving flying.

Earlier in the week, I was up in Montana for a meeting. I really enjoy Montana especially in summer. Whenever I go to Helena (pronounced hel-uh-nuh, not huh-lay-nuh) I always look for that handbasket store I have heard about all my life. No one in the town seems to know about it even though for years I have heard about things going to Helena Handbasket....get it? Hel-in...?Yeah, the people there didn't laugh about it either.

Security is the first place where I get frustrated. I have traveled enough over the years that I think I know the routine; computer out of its bag, shoes off revealing my holy socks, take all metal off, etc. But quite often, the security personnel are taking their jobs waaaaaay too seriously. Just a few weeks ago, in the Honolulu airport, a TSA agent made me go back through the metal detector four different times. Each time I would take a few more things off my person. Finally, out of frustration, I asked her, "have you got a hospital gown for me? If you do, I'll just strip down." This obviously didn't set well with her. I was very luck that this Barney Fife wannabee didn't have a gun or I would've been lying in a pool of my own blood as businessmen and women stepped over me on their way to their flights. She just yelled a little louder and eventually took it out on Bluesmom too, telling her, "stand on the mat, that's what it's for". Even though Bluesmom was just inches away to start with.

I also get frustrated with passengers and cell phones on planes. Invariably on a flight, you'll get someone calling while still on the plane after landing, who things she's talking through a tin can with a string. She'll be yelling into the device loud enough for the rest of the plane to hear and always includes the phrase, "I'm on the plane", like it's a new ability that wasn't available back in Podunk, West Virginia.

Crying babies on planes actually don't bother me. I know they can't help it and they don't understand whats happening. What bothers me are the people around the child who are all put out. What do they expect, that the flight attendant is going to pull out a syringe of horse tranquilizer and put the little one into dreamland. Put up with it folks, I put up with your annoying phone calls and idle conversation about how terrible airlines are.

Although I could go on, talking about flight attendants and their lack of customer service, or airlines overbooking, or being so bored that you re actually like an excited little puppy wagging its tale when the peanuts come around, but I won't. Instead, I'll go back to trying to do a google search for Helena Handbaskets, get it Hel-in-a...oh, never mind.

Answer this question quick! What Color is a Yield Sign?

For a few years now, I've been asking that question to groups I train. I first learned it from a motivational speaker and it got me thinking.

The answer is Red and White, but about 90% of my trainees say yellow even though it hasen't been yellow since 1971. If you were one of those who said red and white (the correct answer), try it out on other people. I'm even surprised how many people born after 1971 still say, "yellow" although it's never been yellow for them.

I think this really gives us a chance to do introspection. How many times do we assume things are going to be the way they are because that is how they've always been.

This same speaker, Brian Biro, says, "The past should not be a predictor of the future, unless it serves you."

Think about your own life. How many times are you guilty of saying things like: I am not good at sports, I always mess up on things, I've always been too shy, I am not a good public speaker.

Just because we've always done something, doesn't mean that the things that caused us to be that way in the first place should still be adhered to. Recently, my sister-in-law accepted an invitation to run in a long distance relay even though she had never run competetively. Her portion was over 17 miles and she did it! Way to go Lisa!

Think about the yield sign. It hasn't been yellow for 37 years yet that is still a part of so many people's paradigm.

Are the things that are holding us back still based in old root causes?

I Found the Answer!

In a moment of epiphany today, I may have found the answer.

As you have realized by now, the majority of my blog consist of my rantings about social faux pas and the lack of manners .

As I was sitting in a restaurant today (I won't say the name but it rhymes with FryHop!), I watched a child, old enough to know better, color with crayons on the booth. The parents, instead of removing the crayon out of her hands, were praising the drawing. They were looking around to see if other people had noticed how cute and perfect their daughter was.

Then it occurred to me. This little girl will grow up to think that everything she does is ok, that she can do no wrong. She will know that everything should revolve around her. This little girl will grow up to let the door slam in my face, butt in line, and park her big truck over two parking spaces. She will do it because the world revolves around her.

Of course I'm not saying that kids shouldn't be praised. They need to know that they are loved and that we're happy with their appropriate efforts, but they also need to be taught that they are part of society and that they have a responsibility to other members of it.

I think self esteem is one of the most overused words in child rearing. Self esteem that is based solely on words from parents is a very shallow trait that will easily be destroyed in the real world. Self esteem that is rooted in the child's own efforts and accomplishments can sustain them throughout life.

If you tell little Joey that he is the world's best soccer player, when you know he isn't, it will only undermine your credibility when he realizes it. Wouldn't it be better to find something truthful like, "Wow you really tried hard and I could see you've improved since last time!"

The parents at the restaurant will probably never do that and someday when the little girl grows up, she will be the only one standing at a concert (blocking everyone's view) because It's her favorite song!

How many spoiled brats does it take to screw in a light bulb? One. They hold the bulb and the world revolves around them.

Viva la Difference

I really enjoy diversity in all areas of my life!

When I was a little boy, we only had a black and white TV. Then, when I was about twelve, my parents introduced us to color. Wow! What a difference. Suddenly, all the trees weren't gray and matched what I saw in the real world.

I enjoy that not everyone is the same, I love that some people enjoy sports and some hate them. I love that some folks like dogs for pets and some like lizards. I think it's great that some people are conservative politically and some are disillusioned. I think it is incredible that along side the geniuses in the world who teach us about facts, there are mentally handicapped folks that teach us about ourselves.

I think it is wonderful that when I look down my street, I see Japanese, Hispanic, Vietnamese, Pakistani, Caucasian, Mormon, Catholic, Muslim and ?. I think life would be extremely boring if we all dressed, thought, and spoke alike and drove the same color of car. I even like the fact that some people drive big pick up trucks (although I still don't know why!).

My acceptance of diversity has made it simple to accept an amazing young boy into my home and heart, even though our ethnicity is not the same.

Diversity in thought, opinion, and appearance gives my mortality an interesting color. You may not feel this way, and that different opinion makes us diverse as well.

I appreciate the spectrum with which diversity paints my life.

Coming Out of the Closet

For many years, I've held a secret. It's a secret that I've only told a few people, people very close to me. I've not been open about it before, for fear of retribution to me or my family. What I am about to confess will not be popular, but I must be true to myself.

I hate big pick-up trucks! There I said it, it's in the open! Judge me if you must.

Now I'm not talking about the occasional standard F-150 and maybe even an F-250, but I'm talking about the truck so big, that there can't be a logical, practical use for it. A truck whose front and back bumper are potentially in two different zip codes!

I'm talking about the type of truck that takes up two stalls at the front of the parking lot. The kind of truck that pulls up beside you at an intersection and completely blocks your view and your only hope is to see UNDER it.

I know that someone might need this size of truck....No, I take it back, I can't think of a person who would need this size of truck.

I know I am generalizing, but watch the type of drivers that have these trucks. They generally are short little guys with a mullet who in another time in their life would be driving a Trans-Am. They've usually got their bleached blond Tanya Harding wannabe scrunched up next to them on their bench seat.

Once I pursued having a bumper sticker made for my car that said, "The bigger the truck, the smaller the penis!" I quickly came to my senses, knowing if I did this, one day I would return to find my car crushed with one big tire print all the way along the crumpled piece of metal that used to be my Yugo.

There! I came out! It feels good to come clean about my feelings. I no longer need to pretend I am someone I'm not, but now I need to fear for the retribution. Oh well. History is made of brave people taking a stand, now I can be included in that distinguished list.