Author Archives: Bonnie McCune

About Bonnie McCune

Bonnie is a Denver-based author whose interest in writing led to her career in nonprofits doing public and community relations and marketing. She’s worked for libraries, directed a small arts organization and managed Denver's beautification program. Simultaneously, she’s been a free lance writer with publications in local, regional, and specialty publications for news and features. Her main interest now is fiction writing, and her pieces have won several awards.

Me and My Stiff-necked Cronies: Is being stubborn an asset or a failing?

Posted on by
Reply

stubborn

I come from a stiff-necked family. That means each of us usually feels we’re right, and we’re obstinate about expressing and sticking to our opinions. One woman has friends discarded over the years who have done her wrong in some way, and she refuses to see, talk, or Facebook them. A man marches into work to confront a disliked boss, even if he knows he may be fired. All of us take positions on political candidates and won’t budge come hell or high water or verifiable proof of wrong-doing, such as fishy business practices or shaky sponsorships.

I’m no different. I currently have a collection of groups with which I’m feuding. They don’t know it, but I am. Several nonprofits whose operations I question will have neither support nor cooperative ventures nor future referrals from me. I even have a relative I’ve written off my Christmas card list and regular phone calls because of his don’t-give-a-damn attitude. I don’t have to be personally acquainted with individuals to make a value judgement and stiffen my neck. If I hear about friends of friends opting to spend their money on expensive trinkets or trips, my teeth start grinding on their own because they’re not sacrificing for a social cause.

This topic came up when several of my siblings and I did a group call, and I afterwards proudly noted that we hadn’t fought. The way I remember childhood, the entire family had been at loggerheads (whatever those are) constantly. One sibling was truly puzzled, having no recollection of rabid quarrels, shouting matches, or verbal tussles. I started wondering about the possible value of stubbornness. Maybe I’d simply been too cowardly in my youth. Loud voices don’t necessarily equal belligerence, and, as the sibling said later, “It’s not necessarily an argument to give a differing view.”

Being stiff-necked, aka stubborn, obstinate, pig-headed, determined, tenacious, mulish, can be an asset. It helps us set goals and meet them, triumph over adversity, dig out new opportunities. But, it also can harm us. We can lose not only an argument but also a friend when we can’t be swayed by facts, emotion, or the truth.

Before analyzing reasons for or against being stiff-necked, consider the impact of the trait on people. What I call stubbornness, you might label strength of convictions. This certainly affects relationships among individuals. You might fail to repair a relationship of benefit to both of you because of your mulishness.

At what point should you surrender your position? Take out the rod running up your backbone and bend? Isn’t peace worth giving in? Isn’t interpersonal harmony of greater value than being right?

Maybe not. In a rush to make peace, nuances may be so subtle, you can’t predict what you might lose until you’ve welcomed an unknown enemy inside the city walls. Countries have found to their eternal regret they’ve achieved accord only to lose their sovereignty. Certainly this danger exists between individuals, too. I placate you, and you bully me.

Then comes the perverseness of a certain type of personality. What you label as obstinacy, another may think is simply intellectual fun. My husband can rabidly argue on one side of a question, then switch positions and equally fervently support the opposite. Is this being stiff-necked? Or as that all-knowing genius, Anonymous, says, “I’m not arguing, I’m simply explaining why I’m right.”

 

 

Big girls don’t cry? Yes, they do if they want to get what they require, need, or must have. Go ahead–cry a river.

Posted on by
Reply

 

cryingYears ago when bicycles and buses were my family’s sole transportation, a car collided with me as I rode home. An ambulance was called and I and my bent bike transported to the emergency room. I didn’t have serious injuries, and my vehicle could be repaired; but what lingered in my mind was the reaction of the medical staff to my adversary.

You see, she worked at the hospital in the rape crisis center; and everyone knew her. She was crying at the shock and horror of the accident, and all their sympathy was directed at her, not me, the victim. As I struggled to stiffen my upper lip in stoic fashion, she wept, moaned, and was comforted.

This incident convinced me of what has become a guiding principle in my life. We gain no brownie points, compassion or support by showing self control in an emergency. Instead, we’re better off weeping openly. Frees up other people’s emotions to focus on us, loosens restrictions so they’ll help us, makes us the center of attention.

I try to convey this rule to friends and relations, but they seem to think I’m cracking a joke. No, indeed. It works. I told my sister to cry if she ran into problems transporting our swiftly declining father from back East to his home in the West. After tolerating neglect by airline staff across half the country, including periods of his incontinence and obvious inability to cope on their own, she broke down in tears. From this point on, cabin attendants scurried to help.

A friend told me the same response occurred when her niece misplaced her i.d. just before her flight. Toddler in tow, she cried buckets as she was barred from boarding. Perhaps the thought of dealing with a distraught three-year-old terrified the attendants, but they let the mom in.

Just last week a young relative of mine off to college in a strange city was supposed to make last minute financial arrangements. She waited until the day before the deadline, then tried to function electronically. The bank refused. She’d made too many transfers during the prior month, violating the rules. I told her my principle–Always cry—and asked if she’d tried that. Nope. But she got on the phone, connected with a human rather than a recorded message, and repeated her request, tears quivering in her voice. Sure enough, the bank representative took pity on her and transferred the funds.

I don’t know if the tactic works for men. I have a sneaking suspicion it does IF they make a manly effort to choke tears back. Work a jaw, allow eyes to water, permit a drop or two to escape. Think of Matt Damon in The Martian. This society doesn’t favor men who let buckets fall.

Why does crying work? Humans are wired to feel sympathy for others, given the right circumstances, particularly those who are smaller or weaker. Certainly this isn’t universal. Think of the hundreds, thousands of children beaten or killed each year, or the hordes of mobs in war zones who turn on others. But under certain conditions, crying arouses a protective response. It functions as a signal, especially to those close to us in actual distance or in relationship.

Crying provides other immediate benefits to the crier: releasing tension, flushing certain chemicals from the body, protecting vision, lowering blood pressure. .Certainly it’s a catharsis, an emotional relief.  You might say, “He who cries first, laugh last.” So don’t ‘cha feel like crying? Who’s crying now? Next time you need to get your own way, remember crying just may help you achieve your goal. Go ahead, cry me a river.

The incredible traveling tarp no one would take responsibility for and what it says about me, my neighborhood, and all of us

Posted on by
5

tarp

Several weeks ago a large, dusty, well worn tarp flew off a lawn service truck on my street. It lay smack in the middle of the intersection, a not insubstantial puddle of material which drivers swerved around or bumped over.

With my compulsive sense of collective social responsibility, I wanted to run out immediately and haul it away. My altruistic persona, much maligned as “interfering” by my nasty threatening neighbor to the north, warned me against such an action. Really, I hadn’t put it there, it didn’t belong to me, wasn’t on my property. It was pas ma problem, babycakes. I left it, even became adept at blocking it out of my vision and awareness by keeping my head turned at a 45 degree angle.

Next thing I knew, it had crept to my very corner, still some 60 feet from my yard. Butt out, I sternly warned myself in the ringing, commanding tones of Nasty Neighbor. I decided to make my relationship with the tarp a psychological exercise, desirable training in will power. After all, millions ignore litter and trash daily, don’t twinge at emissions from their autos, even relish the unhealthy ungodly junk they force down their gullets, not to mention the weapons with which they attack one another. Surely one innocuous tarp would do no harm in the total scheme of life on the planet.

With pride I can relate I was able to ignore the tarp for two weeks as it grew dirtier and more repellent. Footprints appeared on it. Dogs did their business at the edge. Bits of trash like cigarette butts and scraps of newspaper worked their way under and between the folds. Still no one picked the tarp up.

A side bar about littering and dumping. Many municipalities and states have laws against these activities. Unfortunately, without eye witnesses to the scofflaws, they are virtually unenforceable. I knew there was nowhere to lodge a complaint, no office that would take responsibility.

After about 20 days, I noticed the tarp had disappeared. Hooray! Nope, surveying the corner across the street, sure enough the tarp had migrated again. Now it rested on the curb ramp next to the sidewalk where it interfered with water flowing into the sewer as well as any wheelchair needing access. The situation was getting dangerous! Should I take the incentive and remove the tarp?

Fortunately before I was forced to make a decision, the tarp disappeared. It hasn’t resurfaced for some time, so I guess someone disposed of it or opted to confiscate it.  But what does our apathetic attitude say about my neighborhood’ s residents?

There’s lots of talk nowadays about the accountability of government and business to citizens, almost nothing about the reverse—holding citizens or residents accountable for the condition of their institutions. .And yet for centuries it’s been understood that people enter into a social contract in society. We exchange some freedom to do whatever we want in exchange for protection and rights to think and act in accordance with our laws. I’d say the fate of the traveling tarp was my responsibility, as well as other residents, including Nasty Neighbor.

I wonder what impact we’d feel if we bore the responsibility for all our actions, including voting? Say we vote an incompetent idiot into political office and things go badly, could those who didn’t support him or her sue for damages? Or could folks who use inflammatory or abusive language on social media be charged with libel when the actors or singers they malign complain? Or people who incite violence between races or groups be held accountable for the hideous results?

 

A tip of the hat to the person who found and returned my keys at Dollar Tree

Posted on by
1

My four-year-old grandson adores Dollar Tree. For that matter, so do I. We always find intriguing, colorful, challenging items. This time a magnifying glass that actually functions, perfect for studying ladybugs and arm hair. My regular supply of birthday and get well cards. Wine glasses for the block party.

If you’re not familiar with Dollar Tree, clones exist across the nation. Nothing there rings at the cash register more than a dollar. I won’t vouch for the quality necessarily, but my wallet rejoices.

I recently discovered an additional good point about Dollar Tree. One of my life mottos is it’s hard to see what’s around you with your head up your ass. That’s where mine was when I hauled my grandson off to Dollar Tree, keys in hand, not in my bag, their normal location. As I got to the register and scrambled for money, I also reached for the keys. Not there. Not in a pocket. Not on the counter. Not even on the soft drink machine immediately next to the counter.

I never, repeat never, leave my car unlocked, but perhaps in my haste to release my grandson from his seat belt, I’d abandoned the keys in the car. No. And no and no and no. The number of times I searched the car.

Ditto no, no, no in my circuit of Dollar Tree, patient and good-humored grandson in tow, puzzled as he was by our delay in the store. No series of metal objects under display cases, nothing buried under the toys we’d fingered. On each venture, I asked clerks if anyone had found my keys. No.

I finally had to admit defeat, and I confess what stuck in my craw (if people have craws) wasn’t the $350 I’d have to pay to replace my car key nor the unknown amount for my PO box. It was admitting to my husband that I’d once again lost something essential.

Some people seem never to lose or misplace a thing. Other people do so habitually. My entire family falls in the second category. I remember once when my mother, brother, sister and I all were wandering an apartment looking for our lost keys.  Is it genetic? Perhaps. Or it may be the location of our heads firmly up a certain orifice.

There now are apps to be purchased that will help you track lost objects, but since they require a smart phone, and since phones are something else I lose, I’ve purchased neither a smart phone nor the app.

Strange to me, my husband wasn’t furious. Perhaps he likes the reassurance that I’m ditzy in this way and need occasional help. After I left my phone number with the employees, he rescued us with his extra key. As we drove away, my grandson asked, “What happened to your keys, Grandma?”

“God only knows, I replied in throw-away fashion.

The next day, prepared to replace all my keys and code cards, I called the store just in case someone had found them. A miracle! Someone had and been kind enough to turn them in. Hooray!  A little shallow research online reveals that about 50% of lost items never get returned, and that percentage plummets if the lost items are money, wallets, or purses. I was lucky that a collection of keys to unknown items held little appeal. And that losing something in a location with a stable population, such as a store or café in which employee turn-over is low, increases the odds.

I announced the joyful news to my grandson. His response—“Did God bring them back?”  Hmm.

So here’s a shout-out of thanks to the unknown customer who returned my keys. Appears Dollar Tree customers and employees are willing to take that extra step to help someone else out.

Our Vigilante Society: Stating Your Opinion Is One Thing, but You’re Not Always Right (Part 2 of previous blog)  

Posted on by
1

vigilanteI recently walked myself off a cliff by listening to the adamant opinion of a person on a committee with me. Despite lessons learned through personal experience and a thoughtful review of the situation and its facts, I thought my recommendations were wrong. The strength of her beliefs and her swift, smooth delivery seemed to trump my judgment. After following her instructions, complete failure threatened. Fortunately I had time to pull my irons out of the fire, which allowed me to implement my assessment and complete the project successfully.

            Goes to show, though, that just because someone thinks he’s right, he isn’t necessarily. Yet along with our obsession with stating our opinions constantly (see previous blog), we also think we’re correct in every thought, and all and sundry should follow our advice. If they don’t enthusiastically endorse our suggestions, we go overboard in our insistence about being right.

            According to the psychological principle of cognitive dissonance, humans experience psychological discomfort when exposed to contradictory beliefs, ideas. An individual exposed to inconsistency (dissonance) is motivated to try to reduce this dissonance—as well as actively avoid situations and information likely to increase it. He often becomes more committed to his favorite, obdurate in defending it.

            The result contributes to a polarized society, a situation in which you’re either with me or against me, no middle ground. The result is laws that emphasize the dichotomy between interests, not their common ground. The result is stand-offs during discussions, not solutions. The most obvious result is failure of many political efforts. Rhetoric trumps intelligence.

            How have we gotten to this state? It’s been said students in the US are the most self-confident in the world. Notice, not the most knowledgeable or best-trained or smartest. Parents constantly receive advice to build self-esteem in their children.  Our laws and procedures and many leaders both political and social strive mightily to insure diverse opinions are given the credibility of a public forum, whether they make sense or not. Life coaches drone on about sending positive messages to ourselves.

            I’m concerned because I’m wondering if a surfeit of self-confidence creates a vigilante society. My local elist, to which neighbors can subscribe, exhibits this periodically. One person posts about a dark car parked on the street with someone sitting inside. Within hours, others have responded with similar spottings, advice, and demands for a police check. Another time, a poor couple strolling down the alley were targeted as potential thieves, suffering the discomfort of dozens of eyes tracking their every action. Fortunately, responses stopped short of calls for lynching.

            Another reason for a watchdog atmosphere is social media and the speed with which we can communicate. Colorado has one toll-free phone number to report child abuse and neglect 24/7. While the goals of this program are laudable, I wonder how often someone gets reported because of the appearance of abuse (think about how often a two-year-old falls and scrapes his head) or the groundless spite a neighbor might hold. A neighbor once reported us to the authorities for our efforts to control squirrels, perjuring themselves to claim we’d violated city ordinances.

            I’m guessing Big Brother watches because of a combination of the two. We’re accustomed to instantaneous communication plus many of us have the self-confidence to assume our every idea is correct and should be immediately implemented. WRONG. There’s something to be said about “measure twice, saw once;” and “look before you leap.” An advice columnist recently ran a letter from a woman who’d accused her niece of stealing some jewelry, wrote about it on social media, then found the missing piece in the pocket of her own coat. She would have spared herself massive embarrassment and kept her niece as a friend by using a go-slow approach.

            There can be more at stake than winning an argument or defending what we think is the truth. “Wide differences of opinion in matters of religious, political, and social belief must exist if conscience and intellect alike are not to be stunted, if there is to be room for healthy growth.” Teddy Roosevelt