Alty
Mar 24, 2008, 07:01 PM
I found the following in a book written by Erma Bombeck. The book is called "If life is a bowl of cherries - what am I doing in the pits? I wanted to share it with all of you because it the best way that I can explain why we are on this site;
It was one of those days when I wanted my own apartment...unlisted.
My son was telling me in complete detail about a movie he had just seen, punctuated by three thousand "You know's?" My teeth were falling asleep.
There were three phone calls -- strike that -- three monologues that could have been answered by a recording. I fought the urge to say, "It's been nice listening to you."
In the cab from home to the airport, I got another assault on my ear, this time by a cab driver who was rambling on about his son whom he supported in college and was in his last year, who put a P.S. on his letter saying, "I got married. Her name is Diane." He asked me, "What do you think of that?" and proceeded to answer the question himself.
There were thirty whole beautiful minutes before my plane took off...time for me to be alone with my own thoughts, to open a book and let my mind wander. A voice next to me belonging to an elderly woman said, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."
Stone-faced, I answered, "It's likely."
"I haven't been to Chicago in nearly three years," she persisted. "My son lives there."
"That's nice," I said, my eyes intent on the printed page of the book.
"My husband's body is on this plane. We've been married for fifty-three years. I don't drive, you know, and when he died a nun drove me from the hospital. We aren't even Catholic. The funeral director let me come to the airport with him."
I don't think I have ever detested myself more than I did at that moment. Another human being was screaming to be heard and in desperation had turned to a cold stranger who was more interested in a novel than the real-life drama at her elbow.
All she needed was a listener ... no advice, wisdom, experience, money, assistance, expertise or even compassion... but just a minute or two to listen.
It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of supersophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.
She talked numbly and steadily until we boarded the plane, then found her seat in another section. As I hung up my coat, I heard her plaintive voice say to her seat companion, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."
I prayed, "Please God, let her listen."
Isn't that what this site is all about? That and more. We don't just listen to each others problems, we advise, give compassion, sometimes admonish and always respond when someone needs our help.
We've all asked questions and responded to others questions. Sometimes all we have to do is listen and let the person know that they are being heard.
It really is that simple.
It was one of those days when I wanted my own apartment...unlisted.
My son was telling me in complete detail about a movie he had just seen, punctuated by three thousand "You know's?" My teeth were falling asleep.
There were three phone calls -- strike that -- three monologues that could have been answered by a recording. I fought the urge to say, "It's been nice listening to you."
In the cab from home to the airport, I got another assault on my ear, this time by a cab driver who was rambling on about his son whom he supported in college and was in his last year, who put a P.S. on his letter saying, "I got married. Her name is Diane." He asked me, "What do you think of that?" and proceeded to answer the question himself.
There were thirty whole beautiful minutes before my plane took off...time for me to be alone with my own thoughts, to open a book and let my mind wander. A voice next to me belonging to an elderly woman said, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."
Stone-faced, I answered, "It's likely."
"I haven't been to Chicago in nearly three years," she persisted. "My son lives there."
"That's nice," I said, my eyes intent on the printed page of the book.
"My husband's body is on this plane. We've been married for fifty-three years. I don't drive, you know, and when he died a nun drove me from the hospital. We aren't even Catholic. The funeral director let me come to the airport with him."
I don't think I have ever detested myself more than I did at that moment. Another human being was screaming to be heard and in desperation had turned to a cold stranger who was more interested in a novel than the real-life drama at her elbow.
All she needed was a listener ... no advice, wisdom, experience, money, assistance, expertise or even compassion... but just a minute or two to listen.
It seemed rather incongruous that in a society of supersophisticated communication, we often suffer from a shortage of listeners.
She talked numbly and steadily until we boarded the plane, then found her seat in another section. As I hung up my coat, I heard her plaintive voice say to her seat companion, "I'll bet it's cold in Chicago."
I prayed, "Please God, let her listen."
Isn't that what this site is all about? That and more. We don't just listen to each others problems, we advise, give compassion, sometimes admonish and always respond when someone needs our help.
We've all asked questions and responded to others questions. Sometimes all we have to do is listen and let the person know that they are being heard.
It really is that simple.