It Is What It Is
“Dear Jeff,” greeted me as I opened a two-page handwritten letter from an eighty-something year-old friend. She wrote me exclaiming how she enjoyed reading my book Easy Street (available at Amazon or www.Jenkins100.com. Please excuse my shameless self-promotion). It brought back glorious memories from her childhood. This letter thrilled me on several levels. First, I truly appreciated the positive feedback regarding the book; and second, how many hand-written letters do you receive anymore? The letter caused me to reflect on how communication has changed in the last few decades.
Texts and e-mails have taken over and there certainly are many significant advantages to these instant communication forms. What has disintegrated during this progress is grammar, descriptive paragraphs, complete sentences, and the English language as we once knew it. Are we so busy that we type “LOL” instead of “That’s funny”? Now we don’t have time to type “LOL”, so we insert an emoji instead--maybe a thumbs up. Not only is the handwritten letter an antique, but phone calls are also rapidly approaching this classification. Why call and talk to someone when you can send them a picture of a smiling face, or hands together in a prayer-like fashion? And voice mail, forget about it! No one wants to listen to voice mails, they’re too slow—just send me a picture.
One of the problems, of course, is trying to type a coherent message on a tiny cell phone. First, invariably I cannot find one of the six reading glasses that are strategically placed throughout the house. Second, trying to get my fat thumbs to hit the correct letter when typing is another challenge. I suppose that I could use the voice dictation feature, but sometimes my phone does not understand Southern and I have to go back with fat thumbs and no glasses to fix it. No, thank you.
I TALKED to a lifelong friend recently on the telephone. He shared with me that he still has a card that I sent him after the death of his mother several years ago and that he has it pinned to his bulletin board over his desk. It touched him deeply that I sent a card and that the words I chose apparently hit home with him. It described his mother well. I doubt that a text or an e-mail would have had that effect. Words matter, and written words from the heart are priceless. He read my note to me, well he tried to read it, but struggled due to my handwriting. I once had a teacher write on my report card under the subject of Handwriting “IMP*”. Great, I thought, she thinks that I am improving. Not so fast. When I, and my parents, glanced to the bottom of the report card to find the corresponding asterisk, my teacher added “Impossible”.
When radiation, chemotherapy, and immunotherapy dominated my life, I received many cards in the mail, many of which had handwritten words of encouragement. I SAVED EVERY ONE! I’m saving the letter I recently received regarding my book. It brings me great joy to look through them periodically. Sadly, I don’t save the texts or e-mails. It’s not that I don’t appreciate them just as much as the cards, but where are they? Maybe they’re in the cloud, maybe on my C: drive, maybe D: drive. Does Google have them for me? The heck with it, I’ll just look through the hard copies of the cards.
The letter and its formality made me think about how and what we say to each other, and how ridiculous some of our everyday communications are downright silly. “My bad” instead of “I’m sorry.” My pastor friends say “persons” instead of “people”. Some of the talking heads on cable news terminate a segment on a topic with “Watch this space.” Really? Watch this space. What does that even mean? I’m amused by a cashier at a fast-food drive-through with a breakfast sandwich and some coffee says: “Have a nice morning.” I appreciate her thoughtfulness and kind words but wonder if she cares what kind of afternoon that I may have. Don’t you just love people who approach you with “How are WE doing today”? If I’m in a feisty mood, my response to the individual is: “Fine, how about ya’ll?” Otherwise, I just say “Fine” and let it go. Listen to the commentators on TV. As they make a point, they invariably say “right?”, but keep talking at a hundred miles an hour. They are not saying “right” to get affirmation, they’re just saying it so that they can continue talking without giving someone else a turn-right?
I think and laugh about how some phrases originate. Somebody, somewhere, first spoke the words “At the end of the day”. Who is this person? Who first repeated it? Why is it now required by us all to use it? The same for “Move the dial”, as in “This new initiative will move the dial”. Who said it first, and why am I now saying it? I, for years, have said when trying to end a conversation and move on; “Well, this ain’t getting the baby fed.” What baby?
Whoever originated the phrase “It is what it is” needs to be flogged twenty times with a wet noodle. Of course, it is what it is. What else could it be? It is what it’s not? No, it is what it is.
People in my neck of the woods (btw-what does that last phrase even mean, neck of the woods?) say “fixin’ to” describing something that is planned soon. It’s a “hit and miss” thing, but many also will say “It weren’t…” instead of “it wasn’t”. I can live with this. It’s part of the charm of the area. What I can’t live with, however, is people on the internet, criticizing a politician, a coach, or anyone and misuse the words “your” and “you’re”. Come on guys, if “your” going to criticize folks, at least get the basic words correct. Oops, should I have said “you’re”, right?
I received a Master of Business Administration (MBA) from UNC-CH. What I remember the most from my two years of study are two major thoughts. No, they are not macroeconomic theories, not cost-based accounting methods, not risk management, or even human resources management. My two takeaways are: 1) If you are invited to a party, it is your obligation to add something to the party by your participation and conversation, and 2) there’s no free lunch. Again, I don’t know who coined the free lunch phrase, but it now is literally a part of me. Or should I say literally? I hear educated people say that “the world is literally falling in around him”. Really? Unless you are in a horrible earthquake, I don’t think that the world is literally falling in around you. Whatever.
I could go on and on, so-on-and-so-forth, yada, yada, yada. But I’ll spare you. I’m fixin’ to text my wife, who is downstairs, about what we are having for lunch.