Blog – Page 10 – The Progressive CIO

🎹 Music for this post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aU_zMvaX05Q.

I’ve learned a lot from my husband Charles, who, this coming week, will join me in celebrating our 40th anniversary together.

I grew up in a family of correctors. You know: the people who hear you say something wrong, and are eager to tell you so. I confess that I was conditioned to do this as well, and it’s not something I am proud of. I suppose I was led to believe that helping people learn their mistakes was charitable, so that in the future, they wouldn’t make the same mistake and make a fool of themselves.

The problem, as I learned many times from Charles, is that it is the people who do that who are the fools.

Charles was working with a group of folks recently, and a woman related a story of how she’d been down for the count in the hospital because she thought that she was having a hemorrhage in her digestive tract. She was quite worried and, after some back-and-forth with emergency room staff, talked about what she’d been eating recently. Among many things, she reported that her sister had made a delicious batch of brownies — so delicious, as it turns out, that she ate many, many of them.

The brownies, as it turned out, contained maschino cherries.

How do you feel right now?

Charles’ main point in sharing this story was that not a single person present decided to correct the woman about her pronunciation of “maraschino.” He thought that was appropriate, humane, and respectful. As it turns out, all the people were older, and they knew better.

He’s right. What would the point be in correcting the pronunciation of a word that everyone understood? If someone had corrected her, who would benefit, and how would the woman have felt?

Words are imperfect. Just like those silly exercises that I’m sure you’ve already taken on LinkedIn, where you read a paragraph of completely jumbled words and can still understand it. For most of us, if there is even a semblance of a word, we can recognize the intent. Fixing or correcting someone else using an imperfect form of a word should only be done if it matters to health or harm, and 99% of the time, this isn’t the case.

I work with engineers and could probably be described as an engineer, even given my humble degree in rhetorical theory. Many, many engineers just love to correct people. It’s not our greatest trait.

My rule is: if you can figure out what someone is saying, then leave it alone unless doing so can create harm. In this age of AI-induced homogenous perfection, I’m beginning to enjoy imperfect humanity more than ever before.

I’m going to work extra hard to live a maschino life from here on in. How about you?

🎹 Music for this post: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQzTSDgUlEs.

I don’t write about politics, but I do write about love and compassion.

I’ve visited all 50 United States, and I can tell you that I love where I live more than any other place I’ve visited in this country. I’m comfortably tucked in the Western Finger Lakes region of New York State. To my west is what folks around here proudly call “Western New York.”

We have it all: Stunning summers, glorious autumns, verdant springs with flowing waterfalls…and cold winters that aren’t really all that snowy, at least where I am. When there is snow, it’s glorious, and we might ski (I prefer cross-country), drink hot beverages and cozy up by our fireplaces to watch the wildlife outside. Snow is only a problem for daily commuters; I remain perplexed at people who wait until they retire to move away.

We have great wineries (and breweries!) and incredible lakes chiseled into hillsides that have character. In the nearby Adirondacks and Catskills, we have mountains. We have history — oh, so much history. We have New York City in reach within a few hours by car if we wish, and Long Island a little further out, with wonderful beaches. We can enjoy Pennsylvania (I love Lancaster and Bethlehem!), and drive to New England, even Boston, in a handful of hours as well.

And then above us. Above us!

Toronto. Kingston. Montreal. I could go on. Have you been to Quebec City? I went there one month after visiting my 50th state, which was Hawaii. Quebec City was better, hands down. I realize that might not be you, but it isn’t only me.

So I heard today that some people who watch sports were disturbed by the playing of “O Canada” at the Buffalo Bills’ new stadium opener last night.

Last time I checked, hate is not one of our national requirements, no matter how that seems to have changed lately. For those Americans who don’t live so close to the border, I want to let you know that there has never been a real issue between our countries – nothing more than a few average disputes that any countries might have, about things like dairy, lumber, pipelines, and maybe some really picayune things about NATO participation. Canada is a great friend, with wonderful people. Heck, I just spent 10 days there with my husband to celebrate our 40th anniversary, and the people have mostly nothing but love and fun on their minds. They seem vastly happier than a lot of the people I meet in the U.S. these days.

All of this is to say, people in Western New York love Canada. Even the right-wingers I know in town won’t call our nearby Great Lake anything other than Lake Ontario. We are not succumbing to the notion that Canada is a problem. I want my dear friends in Canada to know that we love you. Yes, we love you. We can’t wait until this madness is over and we can get back to long lines at the Rainbow Bridge.

Tonight, I’m raising a glass of Baco Noir to you all!