Boots and Blessings

If you have come to this post seeking noble inspiration, because you know that Rev. Edward Everett Hale was that wise soul who wrote, "I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something..." and you seek some of the same -- well, keep on walking, Pilgrim. I love finding out that the noble and dignified were very much human, and funny, and gossipy, and the Rev. Hale is today's example of What, You Thought Your Generation Invented Snark? Seriously, Dude could have fit in well on RuPaul's Drag Show and held his own while not holding his tongue. In 1871, Hale wrote How to Do It, To which is Added, How to Live . It's public domain and you can get it for free . Oh, do. It's so delightfully catty.  Hale gives advice about the right conduct of one's life, and I have to confess, I found myself often thinking in response to his words, "Whoa, guy, that's RUDE," followed by a musing, "He's right, though ...&quo

Information. Some people have it, some people want it. Whose responsibility is it? I’m not talking about something high stakes, like secure memos and such. I’m talking about simple answers to questions. But the answer to “Whose responsibility is it?” is not so easy. We’ve got a huge generational divide, my friends. And the generations are not necessarily based on age. One group is the “Internet Generation.” Let’s call them the IGs. They can be any age, but they are the people who have been so deeply connected with the internet for the last 10-15 years that they’ve soaked up certain cultural norms related to being online. The second group is made up of the “Casual Internet Users” or CIUs. They use the internet, but it’s not their second home. They don’t look that different, at first glance. You’ll probably find members of both groups on Facebook, or reading your church newsletter in their email. But their respective experiences with the internet have dram

There was a time, not so long ago, when joining a church was the expected thing. That’s what happened with my parents. It was the 50s, and my older sister came home from her New Orleans public elementary school and wanted to know when was she going to start confirmation class? My dad had heard this Unitarian preacher on the radio – A. Powell Davies – offering to debate fundamentalists. So Dad called up the local Unitarian church and they started going there. Going to church. It was what you did. It is a completely different world now. Especially if you’re under the age of 50, the expectation is that you don’t go to church. Why would you? You can get any information you want from the internet, your social needs can be met through your co-workers or friends. And yet … Every week, I see a village at work. No, not every week. Every day, because life doesn’t just happen on Sunday and the relationships aren’t limited to once a week. People come in, and realize they’ve found their tr

Why do we feel our opinions are so sought after? On Facebook, I have seen this again and again. A person asks a question. Not a question inviting others to share their opinion. But a basic request for information, e.g. “Have you ever eaten stewed rutabagas?” And then the comments come. Not people answering the question, but people bringing forth their opinions. “Stewed rutabagas sound disgusting.” “Anyone with an ounce of sense knows that you should only bake rutabagas, not stew them.” “Dr. Oz says that rutabagas in any form will wreck your metabolism.” It is a curious thing. I’m sure I’ve been guilty of it. But I’m pledging anew to catch myself in the act and staaaaahp. Because every time I throw out my unrequested opinion, I’m teaching someone else to pull back, don’t ask questions, expect judgment. Maybe I’ll even get a tattoo, right on the top of my hand. I know what it will say. “Stewed rutabagas.”