UNCHECKED SPEECH, GUARDED WORDS

If you’ve heard unchecked speech, then you know guarded words when someone says them.

One might be a raving crack-head angling for another piece of the rock.

The other might be a priest in a confessional.

Each has their place, sometimes more than one place.

There’s only one problem:

If they switch back and forth you might have someone asking for help.

Then what?

I was in Eugene back in the day waiting in line to use a pay phone.

A street guy walked up and asked the guy in front of me for spare change and the guy said no.

Didn’t even take a second to look at the guy, just a fast, “No.” like he’d been hit up too many times to care anymore.

 

Street Guy: Okay, brother, okay. It’s all good, all good.

Phone Guy: Yeah, it’s all good right up until it’s not. Now beat it.

 

What if the street guy was someone you knew, or a relative. Is it all still good?

I met a guy in the South Park Blocks, an older guy who lived outside.

He showed up on the steps one morning when I opened the front doors of the Oregon Historical Society.

That’s right, I had the big job.

He might have been in his fifties, but looked in his seventies, a badly worn seventy.

I explained what I was doing, and why he had to move on. And he did.

The next morning, and the one after, it was the same routine, but the conversation turned from guarded words to unchecked speech.

I started going out early just to talk to him. He looked like he could have been a cousin in the family.

That’s what I told him.

 

Let It Out With Unchecked Speech

He’d had a family, a wife and kids, but he didn’t know where they were; he didn’t have a good grip on where he was either.

Was he a crack head, a meth freak, or just a plain old fashioned drunk living out his time from bottle to bottle.

I asked.

Once the booze took hold, he was done, he said. Wife and kids? Gone.

Friends and family? Gone.

All he had was the clothes on his back, slacks and a tattered sports coat.

 

Me: Here’s a dollar. Will you spend it on booze?

Man: Probably.

Me: If I gave you food, would you eat it?

Man: I’d trade it for booze.

Me: What if I gave you a dollar every day you weren’t drunk.

Man: Okay.

Me: Are you drunk?

Man: Not yet.

Me: Here’s a dollar.

 

We did this a few days in a row, then one morning he was there all beat up and bruised.

I hadn’t been watching out for other street people in the park circulating around the Teddy Roosevelt statue between the art museum and the history museum, but they’d been watching us and mugged the guy the day before.

 

Me: Are you okay?

Man: It happens. Not the first time.

Me: Do you see who did this?

Man: It was dark.

Me: Was it those coyotes by the statue.

Man: Don’t know.

 

No matter his age, this guy was a frail old man, but he wasn’t pointing to anyone.

After a month the weather changed and I didn’t see him anymore, but the same people were in the park.

I went over and asked them about the old guy.

They didn’t remember any old guy.

These were people in their twenties and thirties, mean looking, predatory looking.

They’ve all moved on one way or another since the 80’s, wouldn’t you think?

Come to think of it, we’ve all moved on.

 

Moving On. That’s The Goal?

Moving on after you finish something, after you resolve something, that’s the goal.

The crosses here are for the people who didn’t move on after WWII, but they resolved the problem.

They died before the war finished, just their part was finished.

I walked around with my kids feeling the weight of loss, the despair the families must have felt when they learned about their kids.

If you stay in touch with your kids, and you should, is it a time of unchecked speech, or guard words?

Either way, get past the awkwardness and say what you’ve got to say.

Tell them you love them, tell them you care.

If you’re married, sit with your partner and review the family tree.

Do you love and care about the nieces and nephews, uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters?

I do, we do, and so should you with yours.

Do you need to tell them in person, or is a blog post getting it done?

If you’re a blogger, especially a baby boomer blogger, write it down, read it out loud, then re-write it until it says, “Yes, I do.”

If you’re not a blogger, but would like to leave a message to someone, put it in comments and see what happens.

You never know.

 

PS:  Teach your children well
Their father’s hell did slowly go by
Feed them on your dreams
The one they pick the one you’ll know by

 

PSS:Teach your parents well
Their children’s hell will slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick the one you’ll know by