At 4 yesterday I went hiking in the rain and ran into a couple I know and invited them by our house for drinks at 6. My wife was grateful for the distraction from the winter blues; she got out peanuts and hummus and potato chips left over from the football marathon Sunday, and I got a fire going. These friends are somewhat eggheady and we talked about the left’s inability to match Rush Limbaugh’s earnestness, whether misanthropy is the correct position to take re humanity, whether the Pyramids were built by slaves or willing laborers, and if you get to choose whether you become a nutter or if that’s hardwired. I enjoyed all these topics and threw myself into them.
When they left my wife had an expression I’ve come to recognize, of resignation/salvage operation. I said, How was I? OK, she allowed. I wasn’t too hectory? Once or twice you raised your voice, she said. Then she said, "Have you ever just agreed with someone to be nice? Has that ever occurred to you? That as the host, you should try and make a person feel welcome here and that you could just agree with what they’re saying, some idea they’ve had, instead of trying to argue with them; that it makes things go smoother?" I had to think about it. Then she said that the way she was bred, the goal of a party was to make your guests feel good, to have them leave feeling that they’d had a good time. "That’s just the way I was raised."
I saw the wisdom in her comments and she and I agreed on a social signal. The next time she thinks I’m being competitive with a guest, she’s going to hold her forefinger to the left side of her nose. That way I’ll know.
Next time I’m over her forefinger will be riveted to the side of her nose.
Well, you shouldn’t be yelling at your guests, but I don’t like the idea of agreeing with someone “just to be nice.” If your guests are mature adults, they should be able to deal with a genuine difference of views. Perhaps agreeing to disagree and moving on to another subject, or another aspect of the subject, would be best.
Great post, Phil. I think about this stuff all the time. Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy? He who dares not offend cannot be honest. If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Of course, as Craig pointed out, mature adults should be able to disagree cordially.
For me, I get in trouble when I come to identify my entire self as a person with my opinions. I have to remind myself that opinions are just products of the mind, and the mind is just one aspect of my entire being.
RE: “Have you ever just agreed with someone to be nice?” – Lady Weiss to Phil
PHIL: Tactfully (in private, at an opportune time) suggest to your ‘lady friend’ that she ‘get over’ the fear of being asked to discretely remove herself and her “gentleman friend” from Lady Astor’s ballroom. (lol)
Duane Hall: Can I confess something? I tell you this as an artist, I think you’ll understand. Sometimes when I’m driving… on the road at night… I see two headlights coming toward me. Fast. I have this sudden impulse to turn the wheel quickly, head-on into the oncoming car. I can anticipate the explosion. The sound of shattering glass. The… flames rising out of the flowing gasoline.
Alvy Singer: Right. Well, I have to – I have to go now, Duane, because I, I’m due back on the planet Earth.
[Annie's family and Alvy's family converse through a split screen]
Mom Hall: How do you plan to spend the holidays, Mrs. Singer?
Alvy’s Mom: We fast.
Dad Hall: Fast?
Alvy’s Dad: No food. You know, to atone for our sins.
Mom Hall: What sins? I don’t understand.
Alvy’s Dad: To tell you the truth, neither do we.
P.S.
Frederick: I’ll just have a drink.
Renata: Right! Drink yourself unconcious. That’s the sort of writer’s cliche you’ve never had trouble adjusting to.
A cue. It works for me.
My mother, who is big boned, gave me a similar cue many years ago when I was about seven. She and I had just left a dinner party and returned to our car, waiting for my father to say his goodbyes to the host and hostess.
I had entertained the (big-boned) host and hostess with some grade school fat jokes. There had been some nervous chuckling after the first one, so I told three or four … until the chuckling stopped.
I had never seen such a ferocious face on my mother when she turned around in the front seat and grabbed my scrawny little neck.
As I babbled in confusion and fear, she recognized that I had no idea what I had done, so she very graciously gave me a magic word.
From then on, whenever I heard my mother say the magic word, even in the quietest voice with a smiling face, I would immediately stop my speech — mid-sentence, if necessary.
I would then either say “oh, my goodness,what was that!” and point out the window panning my finger as though following a flying bird, or alternatively tilt my head and say “did you hear that?” with a puzzled look on my face.
Conversation was thereby instantly rerouted on an adjacent empty track. Very effective.
If you and your wife don’t have a magic word for instantly stopping conversation, I highly recommend choosing one. If you will permit me, may I suggest “sarsaparilla”. It very seldom comes up in regular conversation, yet is easy to remember, innocuous and virtually unmistakeable. Even better, the word is odd enough that you will likely stop talking for a couple seconds anyway trying to figure out what she said … until the sudden realization comes to mind.