Character – Page 6 – Snail Trek Blog

“You are the only one he wanted to testify on his behalf.”

What if each of us had only one person we could call to the witness stand, and the strength of that one person’s testimony could free us from being behind bars for the rest of our lives?

And yet, under the legal system, we are guilty. But that one person – the right person – might speak on our behalf, altering the conviction that, by law, we deserve.

Last week I received a subpoena from the Court of Los Angeles Attorney for the Defendant’s office. I am to appear at the sentencing hearing of one of my former parole office Literacy Classroom students. The defendant is a 45-year-old “two-striker” who, before coming into my classroom, had been imprisoned for twenty-five years. He was now on parole. One more felony would make him a “three-striker,” eligible for a mandatory life sentence.

While in my classroom, where I teach people who are on parole, the defendant never caused me any problems. He was polite. He had previously never even touched a computer, such as we taught him to use in the classroom. He had left my class suddenly; he just stopped showing up. I later learned that he had been arrested and convicted for the burglary of a 99 Cent store. That made him a three-striker, fully eligible to spend the rest of his life in prison.

Small theft. Huge consequences. He had just earned himself a life sentence.

His lawyer, the public defendant lawyer who had sent me the subpoena, asked if I would testify in court on his behalf as part of a plea bargain. I explained there was not much I could talk about except his classroom attendance record and his classroom demeanor. I couldn’t speak to anything else. She indicated that she was eager to have me in court, regardless.

I was, she explained, the only person he wanted to appear in his defense, to testify in his behalf. I was speechless. My appearance could determine whether he will spend the rest of his life in prison. My decision is made; I have no choice but to appear.

Since then, I continue wondering, and perhaps it is good to ask ourselves two questions:

Whose lives do we affect to the degree that we would be asked to show up in their defense?

And: Do we have friends in whose lives we have invested well enough, that we could ask them to show up at our own defense?

The Inclusive “We,” Part 3

When “We” Becomes “You”

– “I, struggling and feeble, floated, detached, along with other river-traveling rubber ducks.”

He is a well-know motivational speaker with insights that chip away at my preconceptions in just the right places. Most of us recognize a high-quality speech when we hear it:

– Excellent, stimulating content.

– Well-selected illustrations.

– Appropriate tone and delivery style.

– Well-paced presentation.

– Ahh, not too longwinded! (Research says that most of us can pay good attention for only about twenty minutes. I think I max out at fifteen.)

But just why was I having such a hard time listening to his discourse? Why was this battle of resistance within me? Well…he seemed aloof, above it all, having conquered his own shortcomings and now obtrusively barreling in on mine.

What could be the matter with me?

As he spoke, I started identifying categories of words, and that’s when I realized what was going on.

He shoveled out barrels of certain pronouns in his homily. I tripped over the quantity of them and quickly lost count. By the end, I drowned in the pronouns “I” and “You,” which separated him from me. He seemed to have “arrived” by constantly referring to his audience as “you.” He seemed above the fray.

Other pronouns received nary a mention. Scarce as gold veins in a mine, I was at a loss to find any of them. Not once did he mention the inclusive pronoun “we,” which would have indicated we were on this life journey together.

Noticing the imbalance was unavoidable.

I never heard him once utter the inclusive pronoun “We,” which would have linked our successes and struggles together as people with common challenges. Instead, my life (“You”) was juxtaposed against his (“I”).

It appeared that he had successfully run the rapids, dodging life’s obstacles, now a river’s length between us; it seemed that he, successful in all aspects of his life, had crossed the currents without me, while I, struggling and feeble, floated, detached, along with other river-traveling rubber ducks (“We”), still weighted down by our shortcomings. His success and his advice was unapproachable.

Unlike those in my previous two posts, he was not “We”-centered. He did not appear to join with us to help meet our common needs. The well-known motivational speaker did not include us as part of his family. He was exclusively “Me”-centered, and that made all the difference.

The Inclusive “We,” Part 2

Morro Bay can be a tough spot to find reasonably-priced, comfortable, cozy, breakfast restaurants. Geared to tourists, many eateries feel like a cold gastronomical production line. Then we found The Coffee Pot. It faces opposite an ocean view; diners require the capacity to enjoy a good view of the parking lot.

Upon our second visit, the place was packed, and we understood why. Our first visit was punctuated with overhearing pleasant conversations and the enjoyable care of an industrious, agreeable staff. This time, we joined others who waited on sunny benches outside until tables became available.

Within moments, the owner himself came out with a steaming pot of coffee, sweetener and creamer, and cups enough for all of us. He shared a magical smile as he stooped to offer us refreshments and to apologize for the delay. After we were seated within the restaurant, he flitted from table to table, touching regular customers on the shoulder as he greeted them, sitting and chatting with an elderly couple near us for a long while. Then he stooped to gather spilled items beneath a table, near the waitress’s feet—never reproaching the server.

I observed his winning ways during our entire meal, and as we departed, I thanked him for being an unusually hospitable host and an outstanding example to us all.

“I don’t do this for the money,” he explained. “I do this because I love what I do.”

He was not “Me”-centered. Instead, he wanted to help meet our needs. The owner of the Coffee Pot Restaurant included us as part of his family. He was inclusively “We”-centered, and that made all the difference.

The Inclusive “We,” Part 1

Tootling along a country road near Paso Robles last week, my wife alerted me to a sign for the Kenneth Volk winery. Now we know that winery, one of our favorites, and the tasting room, are in Santa Maria, not Paso Robles. We stopped to investigate and discovered that this weekend was the grand opening of this brand new location’s tasting room. Once inside, we began a tasting, and shortly thereafter, the dirty worker near us went to the back room. We asked about this new venue, and our server replied, “Why don’t you ask Kenneth Volk himself? I’ll get him.” Out from the back room came the same dirty, disheveled “worker” who had just been with us, his hands soiled from planting tomatoes. He apologized. “Hi, I’m Kenneth Volk,” he announced. We were astonished. THE Kenneth Volk, the owner of the winery, then spent the next half hour with us, pouring wines and explaining the subtleties of the Art of the Grape. When we asked for a picture with him, he insisted we take two—one in the shade and one in the sunlight.

So why did Kenneth Volk make such a deep impression on us? In his humility, he did not question our credentials. He didn’t ask if we were Kenneth Volk club members. He didn’t rush away to other chores, though his new establishment’s grand opening would be the next day. He didn’t apologize for his working-class appearance.

He was not “Me”-centered. Instead, he wanted to help meet our needs. Kenneth Volk included us as part of his family. He was inclusively “We”-centered, and that made all the difference.

Civility Goes Subjunctive

Just one railcar missing from the morning train commute can easily demonstrate how far civility has plummeted. The five-car train reduced to four cars meant standing room only. The train was packed. Still, packages clustered on seats from earlier-boarding passenger remained unmoved so that other passengers could not be seated. The passengers who stood in the aisles numbered more women than men. Not one seated male passenger offered his seat to a standing woman.

Just as an English grammarian notes the gradual demise of the subjunctive case in English grammar, something feels missing. Mostly vanishing from English usage is the classic subjunctive phrasing, “If I were you,” replaced by the colloquial but grammatically incorrect, “If I was you.”

So, likewise, courteous behavior is apparently vanishing from our societal deportment. For a seated man not to give up his seat for a standing woman was once unthinkable. Now—not so much.

What I missed on this morning’s train ride was anything resembling the notion, “If I were more civil, I would give up my seat for a woman.”

Beautiful! Civil and subjunctive!

Yellow Line

I listened passively to the chatter between two computer geeks about how to keep personal computer data safe and secure. Just as I was tuning out the conversation, they identified two critical principles that go way beyond computer geekdom. I haven’t been able to get these two simple, profound principles out of my head.

Geek Principle #1: Impulse Control

The geeks explained the number one way to guard against Internet virus pirates who steal and corrupt data files is to control dangerous impulse practices. Don’t use easy passwords. Be careful which Internet sites are visited. Share personal information sparingly and wisely to keep yourself safe online.

Geek Principle #2: Proactive Practice

They described Proactive Practice as the consistent application of the Impulse Control principle on an ongoing basis.

Living by these two principles, according to the geeks, will protect us and the environments we care most about: ourselves, our families, and our enterprises. My thoughts? Like a yellow line of demarcation, these principles may help to keep us on the side of the street where we belong.

Now–ratchet the focus from computers to other life issues. How well do we implement these two principles?

The dude throwing trash from the window of his car–how does he think that’s okay? Did it start with a gum wrapper and de-sensitized Impulse Control?

The gradually growing love handles just above my belt. When did my weakened Impulse Control allow food choices and exercise habits to gradually conspire against me?

Temper and impatience can bubble below the surface, barely out of sight. When did I grant access to those treacherous partners to attach to me like remora fish?

But even after I identify the areas where I lack of Impulse Control and try to corral the behaviors that hinder me, the job is only half done.

That’s when I need to apply geek principal #2–Proactive Practice. Consistent vigilance through Proactive Practice will help to keep destructive behaviors on the far side of the yellow line.