Trash talking. Talking smack. Bad mouthing. Back stabbing.
Name calling. Cat fighting. Telling tales.
Disrespect. Gossip. It’s all the same. The generations change, but the meaning never
does.
One of my Momma’s most
persistent verbal lessons to my baby sister and me was, and I quote from vivid
memory: “If you can’t say anything nice,
don’t say anything at all.” That advice rings in my head more than any
other (and in my baby sister’s head, too, because I remind her of it whenever
she points out one of my shortcomings.) To
some, it may not mean much more than an admonition to “be nice”, but it goes
way deeper than that, my friends. It
beckons back to a genteel, mannerly way of life that my generational Texan ancestors
considered natural. It is a derivative
of the Biblical law to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” In other words, avoid negative talk about
someone else that you wouldn’t want said about you. Pretty simple and timeless, huh?
From experience, I have
come to believe it’s just a better choice in the long run to wear the white
hat. (For my transplant Texan friends,
the good guy always wears the white hat in old western movies…) You would hope that folks we depend on the
most in our lives - our leaders - would be the first to wear the white hat, to treat
each other in a kinder, gentler way. Every
morning, the television talking heads shriek with news of those in my federal
government who have had the meanest sound bite in the past 36 hours. Sometimes I shriek back at them (yes, I do
admit to yelling at the TV), questioning what exactly did that mean or does the
truth count for anything anymore, etc., etc.
Even on a local level, it seems that it is not always easy to keep the
dirt off that white Stetson when you’re in the bull pen of life.
Maybe this is one
reason that, in the minds of many folks, politics is a dirty word, but I say the
political world in its purest form is noble, respectable and one of my favorite
fields. I come by that naturally, as the
product of a father who routinely wrote letters to newspaper editors, exchanged
opinions with all of his government representatives, and had strong beliefs on just
about everything - all without mud-slinging, I might add. It was his grandfather who was our first
Texan family politician over 100 years ago.
I came across a childhood diary recently where, on November 6, 1968, a
little 10-year-old girl I once was wrote: “NIXON WON! I am so happy!” While I don’t exactly recall penning that entry,
I do remember having an opinionated encounter about my Daddy’s choice in the
presidential race on the 4th grade school bus, and being required to
sit next to the bus driver for the ride home.
I also retain a vision of standing on a street corner holding my first “Vote
For” sign at age 12. So, it is probably genetic
that I am fond of most things political, but in a positive way. And being political does not rule out being
civil.
To this day, Momma
maintains that highlighting the faults of others doesn’t serve to brighten the
glow of your own halo - or your own white hat - same thing. In other words, no trash talking. Or, as spelled out by another great lady
named Aretha (Franklin, that is, but then, is there really any other “Aretha”?)
- R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
