Have You Ever Been Skunked?

The term, “I skunked you,” or “that team really skunked us,” is tossed about so easily.  When I play Scrabble with our grandchildren they hope for that high number tile to get in the right place on the board so they can “skunk” me.   When those same grandsons have a bad day and their football or baseball teams gets “skunked” they are so distressed they can’t even text or call to share the bad news.  I’ve used that word for years to describe heart-wrenching defeat, but last night our Sweet Jenny experienced what getting “skunked” is really all about. 

After a late night of barbeque and baseball in Round Rock north of Austin, we were welcomed home by Jenny, who was eager for a trip to the back yard.  I went out with her, armed with the bright deck light and a lantern flashlight.  She promptly took care of business and was ready to go back in the house when something hunkered down in a nearby bush caught her eye.  It took off to the back of the yard and so did she – but she didn’t stay long.  Before I gave her the “come” command she came trotting back, licking her chops, and shaking her head.  Initially there was no odor to attract my attention.  Several friends have had their dogs bitten by rattlesnakes this hot dry summer and that was my first scary thought.  She whipped by me in a rush to get into the house and I followed her so I could take a closer look and…

Need I say more?

Whoa!  First, let me enlighten you by sharing that when any member of a household gets skunked, the whole household is skunked.   How fortunate that Jenny’s attacker was a “youngen” or a “geezer” – a term I resent more and more as years go by.  But in skunk attacks you can be glad when one of those two age groups is the culprit. The scent on Jenny was not the heavy-duty one you smell on the highway when a skunk has been disposed of by an 18-wheeler.  It was slightly different, but once in the house, just as repulsive – both to Jenny and to us. 

Once we determined Jenny had not been bitten by a snake it was too late to change our course of action.  Trust me, she didn’t have to come in contact with anything but the air to make a lasting impression.  It instantly permeated EVERYTHING.  Since her head got the most impact we gave her an immediate head, nose, and lip scrub while we fed her a peanut butter sandwich to get the taste out of her mouth – just like a woman she had her mouth wide open barking when the dirty deed was dealt.  Poor Jenny shook with stress, but our usual shower of attention, plus the peanut butter sandwich, calmed her down.  Then we thought…

What did we learn about being REALLY skunked?  We learned human nostrils absorb the odor, so after she was thoroughly washed we couldn’t tell if she was clean or not.  We could run our noses over everything and it all smelled like it had been skunked along with Jenny. 

Overnight I assumed the odor would drift away because she was clean, but I woke up to odor intensity like no other and when Jenny and I went outside the side yard where she was skunked still gave off a lasting stench.  Inside I turned on all the exhaust fans in the house.  Not a drop of tomato juice was in the pantry, so a warm shower for Jenny with an entire bottle of shampoo was the only solution even though the attack was to one small area.  Scrubbing included Jenny’s nose and lips again, and a good tooth brushing before we made any headway at all.  It definitely helps to have a loving, well-behaved dog like Jenny, who stood patiently and allowed me to scrub her and spray her so vigorously.  Then I dug into my cupboards and dragged out every spray can known to mankind and went to work.  Fabric shampoo all over the carpet and furniture in the great room helped and it provided some hope that the house would, once again, smell like lavender and vanilla like our Sweet Jenny now smells like coconut oil and citrus.  We have so many candles lit that, if the pastor shows up unexpectedly he’ll be certain I’ve gone wiccan and am having a séance. 

So, we ask ourselves again, what did we really learn from this exciting start to our week?  Well…we learned that being “skunked” in Scrabble isn’t the end of the world and doesn’t leave any bad scars – or ugly odors.  When our grandsons’ baseball teams get “skunked” we’ll encourage them to go to work on basic skills that don’t include early morning shampoos for Jenny and deodorizing the whole house – our bed, the carpet, and the furniture.  

Fred will mow the lawn where it all took place and then we’ll water it down and hope the odor eventually blows off to San Antonio or Corpus Christi.  I’ll get some large cans of tomato juice at the grocery this week and visit with Mr. Google to figure out how NOT to get “skunked” in our own backyard.  

  

And to think all these years we were sure an armadillo was living under our mower shed. Go figure.

It's Time To Set The Bar Higher For Our Leaders

Last week my Blog was about silence.  I threw out the idea that so many people walk around all day with ear buds in their ears and it casts a pall over areas of our lives where spirited conversation used to stimulate creative thinking, negotiation, and decision making.  Now when people come together with diverse opinions there seems to be that same absence of creative thinking and decision making, along with an absence of respect for the negotiation process necessary to arrive at a common goal.    When did those backbones of healthy communication disappear?  When did we slip into useless, lackluster communication styles of gossip, selfishness, impatience, anger, bigotry, indiscretion, power hungry control, and manipulation?  When did civilized conversations disappear?  When did unacceptable social behaviors become so acceptable…everywhere? 

Incidents during the past few weeks have provoked me to think about the strange jockeying for position and power that goes on in our neighborhoods, communities, city councils, county boards, schools, state and federal government.  Even our churches play the “power game” as they sort out leadership roles.  Schools face financial challenges and sort issues in the midst of angry meetings filled with shouting and protesting, and the crowd assembled outside is armed with angry signs.  Our elected officials at state and federal levels have forgotten who elected them to serve.  High school student council representatives adhere to codes of behavior and campaign priorities to which they are accountable or they are removed from office.  Public shenanigans of our adult state legislatures and congressional chambers should warrant the same penalties.  Lately they have behaved like…I don’t even want to go there. 

Okay, now you know how I feel.  I have barely regained my good humor since the last presidential election and we are now looking down the jaws of another one.  Since first registering to vote, I have been a strong supporter of term limits in every area where we elect representation.  The way presidential campaigns are managed today (or not managed at all because they start too soon and drag on forever) the term of office needs to be about fifty years so voters have time to recover from the impossible promises shouted out to the public and the ridiculous accusations candidates launch at each other.  (Just kidding about the fifty years, of course)

The way we throw our Constitutional rights at each other to excuse questionable behavior, I regret the Constitution doesn’t contain social and personal “rules of the road” for all elected leaders.  I suspect that’s because many of our forefathers, like Benjamin Franklin and others, were carousers and not exactly squeaky clean.  No one had the courage to speak up and pen personal conduct rules into the Constitution.  Even the Bible outlines strict rules for Elders and Deacons (1 Timothy 3:1-13), but we still can’t keep our behaviors on a “straight and narrow” path.  So, why should we think Constitutional “guidelines of behavior” for public figures would deter elected officials from pursuit of personal pleasures and indiscretions? 

   

Those guidelines have to come from our leaders, themselves.  I believe holding any office, from the neighborhood to the White House, demands a person, who has what I call “an internal compass” --  a statesmanlike quality of dignity and direction, a clear definition of appropriate social and personal behavior, and respect for those represented and the office held.   I’m exhausted by irresponsible conduct of public officials (elected and appointed) and the voting public that excuses and patronizes it.  We practice zero tolerance for issues in our homes and marriages, and as disciplines for our children.  Where are the zero tolerance guidelines for holding public office?  When did candidates cast aside the rules of decent behavior before entering the ring?   And when someone in the media says that defining “appropriate personal and social behavior” for our leaders is a subjective call…  Oh please.  Don’t even start that conversation.  Have we become so tolerant that we don’t even recognize unacceptable behavior of our leaders?  Have inappropriate, power-grabbing leaders become the norm?  Are elected leaders defining their own lists of “right and wrong?”  Are we, as voters, afraid to set non-negotiable, zero tolerance rules that must never to be broken by those we elect?  When did consequences for inappropriate behavior go out of style?

This is my hope and dream for my grandchildren and their future.  Local leaders in neighborhoods, schools, churches, city councils and boards will become more respectful, responsible, and accountable on a grass roots level.  Next, voters will become more selective and demanding when choosing candidates for offices beyond the local community.  We will demand personally and socially appropriate behavior during campaigns and while holding office.  And, when elected leaders violate our trust, they will be removed from office -- immediately. 

It’s time to set the bar higher for our leaders.  For all of us.  But how do we do this?  Where do we start? 

What do you think?

Terri Clamons, author
Corporate Prince, ebook at amazon.com and The Kindle Store

The Toy Room, ebook and paperback at amazon.com, ebook at The Kindle Store

Visit my website at http://www.terriclamons.com and

My blog at http://blogbyterri.blogspot.com

Stunned by the Silence

             I sat in “Admin Alley,” a junction of sidewalks coming from all directions across the campus.  Students occupied benches between classes, and my mind traveled back to my days there when chatter echoed against concrete walls of surrounding, old buildings. 

            But today… I was stunned by the silence.  No calling out to friends as students made room for one more on the bench.  No laughter as stories are shared about classroom antics or weekend parties.  No pleasant hum of murmuring as lovers shared private thoughts.  “Admin Alley” was filled with a haunting hush.  A troubling silence.   

            Ear buds were stuck into ears while cords found their way to pockets holding iPods.  Fingers flew with texts on cell phones, and emails were checked and answered on lap tops, courtesy of university WiFi connection.

            I gazed at the silent students and saw him approach from the ivy-covered building -- my “home away from home” twenty years ago.  I stood as he trotted to me and broke into his memorable smile.  When he grabbed me in a warm embrace, no students acknowledged the professor’s affectionate greeting of a total stranger, and I stared around in disbelief at their lack of curiosity and attention. 

            Dr. Jake’s well-trimmed white hair stood on end in the breeze that swept across campus.  He laughed and patted it back in place, and I smiled with approval of his facial hair additions that streamed from below his ears and bushed out nicely over his chin. 

            “We have about an hour before class,” my favorite professor said, caught my arm, and led me out of Admin Alley and its disturbing lack of chatter.  “Let’s sit in the café and talk about what you will share with the students. “

            We settled into a booth in the popular coffee house on the main campus, and I sensed the same hush of “Admin Alley,” so different from the old student center filled with conversations from early morning until it closed at midnight.  Dr. Jake ordered our coffee and bagels, and I looked around the room at the same isolating earphones, cell phones, and laptops. 

            “It’s different today,” Dr. Jake said when he saw me frown as I looked around.  “Students today have a different definition of communication from the lessons I pounded into your head years ago.  Technology has turned communication into nothing more than a transfer of information.  It has removed the communicator from the formula.  Energy, enthusiasm, anger, doubt.  Emotions are barely recognized as words fly through cyberspace.”

            I assured him in my work as a communication consultant I talk about that all the time and in his classes I planned to have them do some role playing, reading from a script.”   

            “My parents and grandparents taught me to communicate effectively with the much-repeated script, “Stand still, look me in the eye, speak up, and don’t take that tone of voice with me, young lady.  When it was time to get to the point around our home, I knew exactly what the rules were before I opened my mouth.”

            Dr. Jake chuckled.  “I’m not an old fashioned person and believe rules for good communication don’t change with technology.  But, students today don’t agree.”

            “One element of good communication we never talked about in your class was physical contact.  My grandmother always laid her hand on my shoulder to make personal contact regardless of the message she conveyed.  I try to remember that to this day.  It doesn’t work with a cell phone or laptop, but in this world of distance and silence, sometimes a soft touch is where to start the conversation.  Especially with children.  Surely your students going into teaching careers would agree to that.”

            “They should.  But they feel it takes too much time and they can’t abbreviate the words.”  Dr. Jake threw his head back and laughed.  “And, by the way, I never realized you were getting communication basics from your grandmother before you ever got to my classes.” 

            “Yes, indeed.  I recognized my early lessons the day your lecture was all about fundamentals of communication – Body Language, Eye Contact, Speaking Clearly, and Tone of Voice.  You sounded like my grandmother.”

            “And they are still the same today, so I guess I’m still sounding like your grandmother.  Nothing’s changed.  But technology threatens to make them obsolete.  I still teach basic ingredients of good communication, but also demonstrate dangers of communication with popular, high-tech gadgets.  A student told me recently he was hired for an internship and was never seen or spoken to by the person who hired him.  When I questioned that practice he told me his Dad supervises five employees in software development, who never come to his office.  I questioned his father’s relationships with his employees and I could tell he didn’t fully understand my question.” 

            “I know, Dr. Jake.  I have those challenges in my consulting work.  I never talk with anyone about sophisticated communication tools without first complimenting their ease, speed, and efficiency.  That gets their attention and then I point out the danger signals.”

            “What kind of danger signals?” 

            “Emails or text messages are information sharing, not conversation.  Words sent carelessly cannot be taken back.  These types of communication are non-confrontational and provide a comfort zone for the person initiating contact.  The absence of body language, eye contact, verbal language, and tone of voice can provoke reckless conversations and create needless confrontations.”

            “Let’s keep sharing while we walk back to my classroom before the students start arriving.”  I tossed my purse strap over my shoulder.  Dr. Jake grabbed my briefcase, tucked it under his arm, and we headed out the door. 

            As we walked toward his building, he continued.  “Your comments are right on track.  I know emails ripped off in haste have ended friendships or created breaches in families still not healed.  I want you to hit that issue hard.  Hearing it from someone younger than I am may have a greater impact on these kids.”

            As we walked through Admin Alley, Dr. Jake sensed my dismay and tucked his hand around my elbow, a gesture of affection we couldn’t have enjoyed as professor and student years ago. 

            The class session went well.  “Don’t forget your fundamentals while you talk through cyber space,” I teased as they left the classroom.  No one heard me.  Fingers flew across cell phone keyboards, while others stuck earphones in their ears before they reached the hall.  When the last student was gone, I stared at Dr. Jake with my one eyebrow raised. 

            A sympathetic smile covered his face.  “Come on.  I’ll walk you to your car.”

            As we stepped into “Admin Alley” the hush overcame me once again and we stopped.  I whispered, “What would Simon and Garfunkel think about this place?”

            Dr. Jake smiled.  “Ah, yes.  The Sounds of Silence,” and he continued softly, “’Fools, said I, You do not know, Silence like a cancer grows…’  A brilliant song of profound insight.  Prophetic, in many ways.  Long gone, but not forgotten.”

            We finished the song with gusto, breaking the deadly silence of the famous Admin Alley. 

            Not one head turned to watch and listen.