Lost Art of Written Communication

Some events of the past week have me thinking again about the lost art of paper-based communication. I attended Brown University’s Josiah S. Carberry Day dinner at their Faculty Club on Friday the 13th. The featured speaker was alumnus Barnaby Evans, the creator of Waterfire Providence. He spoke about the importance of books—physical ones, not electronic ones—in living a full and rich life. He was preaching to an admiring choir, as Carberry dinners are hosted by The Friends of the Library.

The evening was informative and entertaining and, for me, also provocative. On the almost-two-hour drive home to Connecticut, I was mentally assessing possible blog topics for today’s post. I’ve been writing about communication lately in my usual humorous style. Printed books reminded me of handwritten notes, something that also crossed my path literally this past week. The two ideas came together for a more serious essay about the lost art of written, non-electronic communication.

About three weeks ago we had to make a painful decision to send our elderly cat, Luke, to the Rainbow Bridge. My grandniece Sophie and my grandnephew Bruno, ten-year-old twins, each sent me a handwritten condolence note on our loss. They had met Luke on their visits to our condo not long after we moved to Connecticut last fall. The notes were short, but they each included a hand-drawn picture of Luke and a specific recollection of why each of them had enjoyed meeting him.

The notes made me cry, not just because they reminded me that Luke is now gone, but also because of the thought that went into them. I sent Sophie and Bruno handwritten thank you notes for their thoughtfulness. My messages were written in cards from the Metropolitan Museum of Art that had photos of feline art in their collections. This exchange reminded me of how special such written messages can be, and how rarely they happen in our electronic world.

I'm going to save these notes with other special items from Luke’s life. I hope that the twins also save their cards at least for awhile. More importantly, I hope that they stop for a moment to savor the special feeling that a personal message put to paper and delivered by mail to their own hands can impart.

This thought process reminded me of a project I embarked upon around the turn of the millennium. I had decided to hand write letters to people who had been my friends for decades. In those letters I recounted my earliest memories of wonderful times we had shared that set us on a path to a lifelong friendship. To begin this project, I chose two women whose relationships with me dated back to my first years working in Manhattan after I graduated from Brown. I carefully selected the notecards to hold each letter.

These were women my age. We learned cursive writing in school and penmanship was a serious subject. I was therefore stunned that for a long time neither of them replied. Not even a purchased thank you card. Eventually, one sent me a brief appreciative email promising a more personal reply in the future. (It never came.) I wrote about this in my holiday newsletter a few years later, prompting a new reply from her. She explained that she hadn’t written back because she didn’t know where to begin to respond to my touching letter.

I knew her well enough to take her explanation at face value. (We’re still friends today.) In some ways, I found that even sadder than the total non-response from the other woman. (She passed away several years ago.) How unfortunate, I thought, that the art of letter writing has been so eclipsed by electronic word-bites. And this was well before the popularity of IM (instant messaging) and 140 character tweets.

Perhaps this is why my heart was so deeply touched by the special notes from my grandniece and grandnephew this week. It’s also why I decided to hand write thank you notes back to them. I hope that this is just the beginning of a life-long correspondence between us. (My greataunthood is as close as I’ll ever get to being a grandmother.)

I’d be thrilled if some of that correspondence turned out to be handwritten. But frankly, I’ll settle for a tweet now and then. I am, after all, a realist with romantic inclinations, not a romantic with realistic overtones. If you’re unclear on the difference, I suggest you find a book or two on these topics and check them out of your community library. If you’re not sure what a “community library” is, Google it.

More Spousal Communication

A recent blog post provided an explanation of how spouses miscommunicate. Several of the comments I received presented reasons for miscommunication that I had missed. My friend Mary pointed out that when folks have been together many years, one of them assumes that the other one has become a mind reader. That hit especially close to home in our household. Today’s post explores this issue from a slightly different angle.

When my husband wants a favor, he rarely asks for it directly. Rather, he makes a vague statement and hopes the person to whom he’s speaking will figure out what he’d like them to do. Eventually, I came to see this as his style of communication, but I used to think he didn’t want to be beholden in any way. By not actually asking for the favor, he wouldn’t feel he received one. I found this manipulative and annoying. I tried to force him to be more direct by saying: “And I’m supposed to do what with this information?”

That rarely prompted him to actually ask for help. Over time, my response progressed to a snarky: “And I’m supposed to care about this why?” More often than not, I ended by performing the expected service, accompanied by heavy sighing, the loud banging of pots and the slamming of cabinet doors.

If you’re having trouble following this, here’s an example. My husband says: “I wonder if the box of green tea is empty.” He knows full well that it’s empty, because he used the last bag the previous night. What he really means is: “Do we have more green tea somewhere? If so, dig it out and make me a cup. If we don’t have any more green tea, make me a cup of whatever is closest, and be sure to put green tea on the shopping list.”

Recently I decided to fight fire with fire. I would communicate with my husband the same way he communicates with me. It should come as no surprise that I did not get my desired outcome when I presented him with a vague statement. I then progressed along a scale of communication, gradually getting more specific and more direct. Today’s post explains that scale, with several examples to illustrate the progression. See if you recognize where your spouse sits on the scale. At what point are you generally successful in getting the outcome you desire?

SCALE OF SPOUSAL COMMUNICATION METHODS

1.     Vague description of the condition or situation.

2.     More detailed representation of the condition or situation.

3.     Statement of desired outcome.

4.     Polite request to perform the task.

5.     Outright threat of dire consequences if he doesn’t do it.

Here are some examples.

I want my husband to turn on Meet the Press on TV. This is the progression of how I would try to make it happen, beginning with his own style.

1.     It’s Sunday morning.

2.     Meet the Press should be good this week.

3.     I’d like to watch Meet the Press today.

4.     Will you please turn on Meet the Press?

5.     If you don’t go get the clicker and turn on Meet the Press, I’m not going to make you breakfast. Ever again.

In this example, the desired outcome is to have the trash emptied and put out for weekly pickup.

1.     I just realized that tomorrow is Monday.

2.     The trash bin is overflowing.

3.     The trash needs to go out tonight.

4.     Will you empty the trash and put the bin at the curb for pickup?

5.     I’m tired of reminding you about the trash every week. If you don’t take care of it right now, I’m going to empty the bin onto your laptop.

How about getting him to bring his laundry to the laundry room?

1.     Your underwear drawer must be almost empty.

2.     I bet you have a ton of dirty clothes in your hamper.

3.     I plan to do laundry this morning.

4.     Please bring your dirty clothes to the laundry room.

5.     Empty your hamper or I’m going to cut the toes out of every pair of socks that you own.

Investigating strange noises in the middle of the night?

1.     Did you hear something?

2.     I wonder what that sound is coming from the kitchen.

3.     I think I hear water running in the kitchen.

4.     Will you get up and see if you left the water running in the kitchen sink?

5.     If I have to get up to check the kitchen faucet, I’m going to fill a pitcher with ice water and pour it on your head.

For most things that he wants, my husband is adept at getting his desired outcome without having to progress beyond level two. I’m stuck between levels four and five most of the time. There is no justice in this world.

Luke the Magnificent Is Gone

Luke the Magnificent is gone. He went downhill fast his last two days. He would have been 18 in two months. We took him to the vet Thursday afternoon and said goodbye. He's now at the Rainbow Bridge with his sisters, Pansy Gardenia and Lily Magnolia.

Luke was our first and only little boy; all our other cats were girls. He’s also our only cat who picked me, rather than having me pick him. I never wanted a boy. Thought they’d be too much trouble. All that spraying and, well—catting around. But Luke wanted me and it didn’t take long for me to realize that I wanted him, too.

Luke came to us from a neighbor who had forced him to fend for himself as an outdoor cat. He migrated down the block to our front porch and settled in there about ten years ago. He was so thin that he looked ill. I started giving him the leftovers from my girls’ meals. (That would be Pansy and Lily.) Luke had been starving, so he filled out quickly. I treated his battle wounds with antibiotic creams and they gradually healed.

The next phase of his assimilation into our family was bringing him into the house overnight and in bad weather. I wanted to be sure he had all his shots. Since there are HIPA laws (Health Information Privacy Act) for pets as well as for humans, the only way I could get his history was to own him. In 2007 I formally adopted him from his original owners.

I learned that the neighbor had adopted Luke from the same shelter as my twin girls one month to the day before I took them home. I knew that other kittens in Pansy and Lily’s litter had found homes ahead of them. I like to think that Luke was their actual brother and that he recognized them through the windows on our front porch.

Luke appreciated having a roof over his head, two squares a day and two sisters to chase around the house. Well, really more like one. Pansy was a tough cookie. She’d been the alpha cat before Luke came along and she wasn’t about to step aside, no matter how much more muscular he was. We had a good run together, all of us.

Despite his hardscrabble early years, Luke outlived Pansy by over four years and Lily by over two. He enjoyed his five months in our condo with lots of light and open space. He especially liked finally having his mommy all to himself.

Luke would jump up on the bed after I’d settled in for the night. He’d perch on my chest in meatloaf position and wait for me to pet him and stroke his chin. I told him how much I loved him. He purred back how much he loved me, too. “Luke the Magnificent. Luke the Lion Hearted. Luke of Oriole.” All the while petting and stroking, while he purred.

“You’re so handsome and brave and strong. And did I mention handsome?” Still petting and stroking. And still purring. “You protect us. You patrol the perimeter. You chase away the interlopers and keep us safe.” Followed by more purrs of agreement. And so on, until I fell asleep or he got bored and moved down to curl up next to my feet.

At his checkup two years ago, tests showed he was suffering from several chronic ailments. I had decided there would be no heroics, no surgeries, no heavy-duty treatments that would make him miserable. We took him home expecting to have a few more good months with him. At his checkup 12 months later, he was only a little worse than the previous year. We considered every month a gift, and we had him almost another full year.

He was having problems just before Christmas, but he rallied so we could go to my sister’s for two days while someone checked in on him. He rallied even more at yearend, having a reasonably good January with surprising spurts of vitality. He wanted to go out last week and I had trouble following him around the yard. But time, his kidney problems and other unnamed ailments caught up with him this week. I knew when he stopped eating that there would not be one more blessed rally for him.

It’s strange to come home to an empty house after years of loving creatures there to greet us. The space where Luke’s food station used to be is achingly bare now. I will mourn my Luke for a long time. After a year or two it will get less painful, but the empty place in my heart will never be filled. I still cry for Tulip Wisteria and Daisy Hyacinth and they’ve been gone about 20 years. The losses of Pansy Gardenia and Lily Magnolia still feel fresh at four plus and two plus years.

Luke the Magnificent, who chose me because he knew I would love him dearly, will be his mommy’s boy forever.

Spousal Miscommunication

Now that my husband and I have retired to our condo, we’re spending a lot more time together. This has made me realize that I’m having increasing difficulty understanding what he’s saying to me. This may have always been a problem, but I just didn’t notice it because we spent so little time together. I assume that age plays a role. Whatever the reason for this spousal miscommunication, I’ve now categorized and charted the condition. See which types you recognize in your own relationships.

HOW YOU HEAR AND LISTEN—MAIN CATEGORIES

A.     You hear and understand everything that is said       10%

B.     You don’t hear at all                                                              25%

C.     You mishear what is said                                                     30%

D.    What he says doesn’t make sense                                     23%

E.     What he says isn’t what he means                                    12%

SUBCATEGORIES OF MISCOMMUNICATION

 

Why You Don’t Hear At All

A.     You’re watching TV                                                                20%

B.     You’re on your computer                                                      32%

C.     You’re reading a book/magazine                                        20%

D.    You’re going through the mail                                                8%

E.     You’re taking a nap                                                                    5%

F.     You’ve had 2 glasses of wine                                                 15%

Why You Mishear What Is Said

A.     He has food in his mouth                                                         15%

B.     He’s muttering into his chest                                                  25%

C.     He has chin in hand, which is covering his mouth            20%

D.    He has his back to you and has water running                   30%

E.     He’s in another room and thinks you’re there, too           10%

Why What He Says Doesn’t Make Sense

A.     He’s reading from a webpage and mispronouncing things  35%

B.     He’s changed the subject in the middle of a sentence            25%

C.     You’re in bed and you have earplugs in                                         8%

D.    He’s tired and he’s speaking Hindi                                               10%

E.     You’ve had 3 glasses of wine                                                          22%

Why What He Says Isn’t What He Means

A.     He’s using indefinite antecedents again (Which “he”? Who “they”?) 30%

B.     He has confused the time sequence of events                                  25%

C.     He has used one of his classic malapropisms                                   22%

D.    He doesn’t actually know what he means                                          15%

E.     He’s had just one sip of your wine                                                         8%

Interpreting Retirees’ Dreams

Kelly Ripa described a dream in which she was underwater, encircled by penguins. They were rubbing against her in a joyful way, as though she was part of their family. One viewer told Kelly that penguins in a dream mean you need freedom and crave adventure. Another said seeing fish underwater meant she’s pregnant. Kelly claimed she's not. Maybe that’s because penguins aren’t fish; they’re birds. All of this prompted me to research what certain dreams mean for retirees.

Dream: You’re about to take a nice, long soak in your jacuzzi tub. As you reach in to turn on the jets, you see that the tub is already filled with water. It’s also full of goldfish.

Interpretation: Your daughter’s triplets are finally walking. Money is tight, and she’s decided to go back to work. She’s also decided that you’ll make a cost-affective alternative to daycare. After all, they so love their nonna, and you certainly have lots of time on your hands now that you’re retired.

Dream: You’re in an unfamiliar neighborhood, desperately looking for lost pets from your younger years. They’ve moved on to the Rainbow Bridge already, but in your dream, they’re still alive. They’ve escaped from the house where you’re staying. You keep calling their names. Occasionally, you catch a glimpse of them, but they won’t come to you. You wake up in a panic and a cold sweat (not a hot flash).

Interpretation: You’re worried that someone close to you is going to die soon. Maybe someone whose name begins with the letter M. Or perhaps J. Or possibly T. For a modest contribution, we’ll give you more details; you’ll also receive our monthly newsletter: The Essential Fortune Teller, retirees’ version.

Dream: You come upon the first car you ever owned. Apparently, you still own it. It’s parked somewhere near a surveillance camera. Somehow this provides video proof that you didn’t do the smash-and-grab of which you’ve been accused. Your dream provides no information on said crime or on how you came to be accused of it. It plays like a film noir collaboration of Federico Fellini and Michelangelo Antonioni. Fellini directs the cats and Antonioni brings the noir.

Interpretation: You’re going to fail the eye test when your driver’s license is up for renewal. You’ll need expensive prescription glasses. Regular ones and sunglasses. And a spare pair of the regulars, just in case. I have no idea how this relates to the dream.

Dream: You discover a fire in the workshop you built in your retirement home. The projects you’ve started are all ablaze. The fire department arrives quickly, but the shop is a total loss. Your insurance company claims the fire started due to carelessness. You argue with them for months. You wake up before you learn whether they’ll cover the loss.

Interpretation: When you finally have time for whatever hobby you’ve planned for your retirement, it will be a disaster. Every relative and friend who finds out what you’re doing will want you to make one for them. And they’ll expect it to be a gift, even though you never exchanged gifts before you retired. The hobby will wind up costing so much that you’ll have to get a part time job.

Dream: You’ve been invited to join the Mah Jongg group in your retirement community. You’ve never been much of a card or game player, and these days concentration is a challenge. Not wanting to appear elitist, you accept the invite. Your first meeting is a fiasco. You forget how many tiles are in a pung and a kong. The game goes on for hours. In the background, you hear Brenda Lee’s song: I Want To Be Wanted, while you mutter: "The Chinese are diabolical."

Interpretation: You’ll be elected Secretary/Treasurer of the Social Committee in your community. Your neighbors have noted the limitations on your social graces and have recognized your facility with numbers and your computer skills. You decide they’re too judgmental, but you sign on for the gig anyway, because you want to be wanted.

Dream: The stock market has crashed. Really tanked. It’s wiped out almost all your retirement investments. You still have your pension and Social Security (for now), but your lifestyle must change dramatically. You’re afraid to tell your wife. She’s just been elected Secretary/Treasurer of the condo association’s Social Committee and she’s excited about making new friends.

Interpretation: This one is a no brainer. You’re worried that the stock market is going to crash. Really tank. It would wipe out almost all your retirement investments and your lifestyle would have to change dramatically. You’d better start thinking about how you’d tell your wife. She’s excited about the new friends she’s making.

If you’ve had any of these dreams, I feel your pain.

On-Line Meeting Groups for Retirees

You’re no doubt aware of websites like ChristianMingle.com that promise to successfully match up folks who share specific interests. Recently I saw an ad for a group I hadn’t realized needed help finding soulmates. It’s called FarmersOnly.com. They’re probably just cashing in on the fact that this season’s Bachelor (the ABC juggernaut) has a farmer from Iowa. Still, it suggests the potential for sites specific to retirees’ interests.

Let’s start with ones that bring together folks who share health issues that plague seniors. I hesitate to bring up gastric reflux, but older folks often experience this problem. If your ex-spouse found your digestive sound effects embarrassing, check out PardonMyBurp.com for your next relationship. For a slight extra fee, we’ll find someone whose reflux acts up after eating the same foods that plague you. We’re here to serve.

Arthritis sufferers will give a crooked thumbs up to StiffJoints.gov. Everyone here will be committed to one-floor living. Neither stair nor step will be found in their condos. There will even be a subgroup for those who swear by homeopathic remedies. My husband will be a special consultant to this site.

Having trouble with the fine print now that your arms have shrunk? Always misplacing your reading glasses? We have the perfect group for you. With a partner from MyGlassesOrYours.org there will be twice as many pairs around the house, so you’ll always have one handy when you need it. We are so there already in our household.

Next we have industry-based sites like the one that caters to those formerly in finance and banking. We’ll call it StillMakingMoneyTalk.com. We expect strong membership in the Carolinas. These guys will debate the virtues of a 40-year mortgage for someone who is collecting Social Security. The one we create for retirees from the garment business, SchmatteMates.com, will be advertised heavily in Florida. Our followers will spend their time bemoaning how Walmart is killing domestic production.

Another way to bring older folks together is by matching key areas of interest in their retirement. We’ll skip over the obvious cat lovers and dog adorers and go straight to DotingGramps.edu. Those who find their counterpart in this group will want to maintain separate finances. It’s one thing to share photos and bragging rights. But when it comes to the will, most folks won’t. (Share with someone else’s grandkids, that is.)

We can also make matches based on pet peeves. More specifically, we’ll screen out potential mates who engage in the behavior you find annoying. ShootTheSnorers.com members will be sure that they’ll sleep peacefully with a partner discovered on our carefully-screened site.  Those who join OutiesOnly.com won’t find themselves picking lint out of their spouse’s belly button every Sunday morning. I cannot overstate the importance of these types of pairings.

Another set of criteria we’ll use is behaviors—those things we do more of when we have extra leisure time. I can’t explain why some of these become prominent in retirement; I just know they do. Take for example making lists. I’ve always been a list maker, but I’m a borderline addict now. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid I’ll forget things. Of course, the more lists I have, the more I’m more prone to losing them. If you’d love to be an item on someone else’s list, sign on to ListLoversItems.com.

My husband has inspired the creation of a group for those who have succumbed to mumbling in their retirement. I can’t explain this one either. At first I thought it was my hearing that was going on the fritz. Then I noticed that he frequently has to repeat himself when he’s on the phone, and not just with strangers. His store staff seems to be asking “Say what?” all the time, too. For those who feel a kindred calling, check out MumblesMeMmbl.com.

Finally we have those who’ve fallen hostage to the family room couch. This happens gradually. One day you realize you’ve been in front of the TV for hours. You’d read a book, but you’ve misplaced your last pair of 3.25 magnifiers. Your condo has a lovely three-season sun porch, and you buy a laptop so you can enjoy the 270-degree view while you work. And yet… You’re still on the couch and it’s getting indentations like the ones in Norman Bates’ mom’s bed. Look for us on MashedCouchPototoes.com.

I expect some of my partnering sites will be more popular than others. But if FarmersOnly.com turns out to be a moneymaker, for sure there are at least a few cash cows among my ideas. Moo.