On Being Disagreeable

I'm sure that you've seen all the happy faces of my clan posted on this blog and on Facebook/Instagram/Twitter.  We look like an agreeable bunch, don't we? Always smiling and getting along. That's us! Here we are... looking so agreeable.

 As fun as that always agreeing might be, it is not our reality, nor yours I suppose. One of the most impressionable moments of my early relationship with Don was at Clemson House when we were freshmen. I have no idea what I said to him, but he looked at me and said simply, "I disagree." That's it. It stopped me in my tracks. I wasn't sure what to say. What do you mean you disagree? I don't think any kind of argument ensued. He just simply disagreed.

I have to confess that I'm still learning to disagree. It's so hard for me not to take it personally. Some other people don't have this problem, and I'm a little jealous. I don't like being wrong. I also don't like being self-righteous and preachy, so sometimes I have to step back and check myself. And lately... with disagreement everywhere, there's been a ton of opportunity for me to step back. I may disagree. It may make me angry. Sometimes it makes me anxious or shaky or tearful. I might want to march or donate or write letters to my Senator. And that's all good. I'm learning, slowly but surely, to feel how disagreement makes me feel, and then wait it out so I don't react poorly.

 My kids are teaching me a LOT about disagreement, because I watch them disagree. Every. Single. Day. As a spectator, it drives me mad. Mostly because they disagree about some crazy stuff, like how many times it’s ok to say "alligator" or which end of the binoculars to look into. This weekend they were bickering in the backseat and Mason reached over and hit Kate because he didn’t agree with her. As I turned to fuss at him, I had a eureka moment. And then I chose my words carefully. “You may not hit your sister when you disagree.  You may not say mean things to hurt her feelings. We don’t all have to agree about everything. If she asks you to stop (insert whatever it was here), you need to stop it. You would want her to do the same.”  And then I revoked his iPad privleges.

Can I stop right here to say that I love disagreeing with Mason.  Kate just melts into a puddle of tears, but not the Moo. He stomps off and gets mad. He cries wails. Sometimes he tells me he will never play with me again or we aren’t friends. But then, after a few minutes, he does something that gives me happiness (and hope). He comes to me (usually still crying hysterically) and says: “I don’t’ like it when you do X.  It makes me really mad.” And sometimes he goes on to explain WHY he disagrees or how it makes him feel. I love it. I mean, I really hate seeing him so upset, but you know what? Sometimes I stop and think. Maybe I was a bit unfair. Maybe he has a point. He feels the way he feels, regardless of how I think he should feel. He eventually moves past the initial emotion and uses his VOICE in a productive way – not simply to be hurtful.


And sometimes its best to just tune out the disagreement.

Life has provided ample opportunity lately to learn about disagreement.  When we went downtown this weekend, there was a largish group of people protesting the latest immigration executive order. The kids were really interested in all of the noise and the signs. It was a great time to explain what a protest was and how lucky we are to be able to use our voices that way when it’s done peacefully. It was a fantastic teaching experience, NOT a time for me to tell my kids how I thought they were right or wrong in their opinions (we are very careful to identify our adult opinions as such, not as fact). I don’t understand why people get so mad about peaceful protests. It’s a group of people using their voices, just like Mason. They are in fellowship over something they feel strongly about. And if we all slowed down to listen and find the commonality instead of being dismissive and getting self-righteous about how they’re wrong, maybe we could work some stuff out.


The bottom line is that we all want the same things. We all want to be safe. We all want things to be fair. We all want to be healthy. We all want the freedoms to live as we please. Our ideas of getting there are usually as different as we are. And it is important that people use their voices – whether you agree with them or not. I want my kids to use theirs. I want them to stand up for what they believe in. I don't want them to be afraid to respectfully disagree.  Recently we read a children's book about Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and before your lips snarl, my Republican friends, the book actually has a nice message about how she disagreed respectfully - about segregation, anti-Semitism, and inequality between men and women. I hope we can all agree that those are good things to oppose. We also learned a new word (dissent), and we saw how she and Justice Scalia can still be friends while disagreeing.

And so… as I repeat to my kids continually “It’s ok to disagree. It is never ok to hurt someone with your hands or your words because you disagree with them.” Then I remind them that the Bible does tell us to love one another and treat others as we want to be treated. Who knows, maybe one day they’ll take a page out of their Dad’s book and simply say, without all of the whining or crying or hitting or drama….. “I disagree.”

Glad to Have You Back

Last week I realized that my Chatterbox mug was missing. Not just any mug. The mug that I carry like it's precious Waterford Crystal. That I only carry with two hands, not one, because I know myself so well.  My mentor, Art Wozniak, gave it to me many years back, after a trip up north to his stomping grounds in Wisconsin.  You see, I grew up in the south, so pronouncing the name of any Wisconsin city other than Milwuakee was always a challenge. Like the time I called Waukesha (WAW-kə-shaw) Wa-kee-sha as if it were a hip-hop artist. Art never let me live it down. I can see him chuckling and shaking his head at my mispronunciations now. It makes me smile. And miss him. He had a unique take on so much of life. I would give just about anything to hear his take on Donald Trump right now.  My guess is that he would like the idea of The Donald being President.  But Art was so smart that it didn't seem possible that he could truly like the idea, and perhaps he was just saying those things to give his "bleeding heart liberal" children and microbiology director a headache.  You could almost always get him to say what he really thought... eventually. And even if you disagreed, it was impossible not to love him.

So my mug. It was hiding in a very obvious place. I didn't find it, a coworker did. I promised her a sushi lunch, with sake (because she also voted for Hillary).  It has a quote at the bottom that I haven't paid any attention to in forever: "Good coffee and old stories are two of life's glories." Ain't that the truth? Art told great stories, but he drank terrible coffee. I drink great coffee, but have kind of stopped telling our story. Sure, there are story snippets on Facebook, but that really doesn't do life justice.  There are stories to tell and I'm feeling convicted to share lately.  After all, the kids can fend for themselves nowadays, and surely I can find a few minutes every week to put an iPad in front of their face and tell a story or two.... so we'll see how this goes.  If you didn't know it, Don has a parallel blog to this one (http://lightpack.blogspot.com/) where you can read his latest post on our most recent family adventure. Here's hoping for more big (and small) adventures and their stories in 2017!! And who knows, maybe a blog name change....