BORN TO WHINE – PART 3
Whine Rule No.3: Never Admit to a Fault you can Deflect onto Others
My brother, Mark, who is younger and much sweeter than I, was a target of a lot of my whining. If I wanted his G.I. Joe® doll to fall off a two-story balcony without a parachute, that’s what happened.
Mark was also part of my developing a “deflective” whine. I deployed this whine when it looked like I’d get into trouble. For example: 1) I “accidentally” spill grape juice; 2) switch juice glasses so Mark has the empty one; 3) set up a loud whine so Mommy comes running into the kitchen; and 4) point at the grape-juice stained carpet and Mark.
By then I was talking up a storm. So my whine included a fast, loud explanation of what happened — my version. It drowned out Mark’s feeble attempts to defend himself. He would just get red in the face and cry, proving his guilt.
My whining went into high-gear when playing with other kids in the neighborhood. We formed a military club comprised of my best friend, Mikey, Wolfgang and his sister Christa, Mark and I. Wolfgang and Christa lived across the street.
We had military ranks. Mikey was the General. Wolfgang was a Captain. I was a Lieutenant. Christa was a wimp and never given a military rank. Mark was a Private and progressed no further. (I failed him on the required exams.)
Wolfgang and Christa’s house abutted a strip of woods. This was hotly contested territory between our club and the Bobby Felini Gang (BFG). I’d climb a tall maple tree on the edge of the woods to spy on the enemy. From the upper branches of the tree I projected a loud, warning whine.
If we caught Bobby Felini or any of his henchmen in our neck of the woods, we’d throw sticks at them and sometimes rocks. But that didn’t stop them. So one day I got an idea to set a trap, my inspiration being the tiger pit in the “Jungle Book”.
I enlisted Mark’s help to dig a big hole and line it with sharp sticks. We then hid the trap from view, piling on light branches and dead leaves. The finishing touch was positioning a couple of good, throwing rocks nearby. They’d never be able to resist that.
The next day, we found the pit broken into. There was blood. I whined about how we killed Bobby Felini and would spend the rest of our lives in jail. But later that day, Bobby Felini popped up from behind a tree and threw a rock. I was so relived, I could’ve kissed him. We figured the blood was either from an animal or an expendable member of the BFG.
For my heroics, I was made a Four-Star General. (We used Mikey’s garage for our club meetings so he was a Five-Star.) Mark’s reward was the privilege of sweeping out the garage.
As I grew into my early teens, my family became used to my whining ways. There was a hole in our parent’s 25th wedding-anniversary cake. It was shaped suspiciously like an index finger. Everyone assumed I was the guilty party.
Thinking fast, I cut a piece of cake for Mark, leaving plenty of icing on the rim of the plate. He wolfed down the cake in his usual manner, smearing icing on his fingers. I then pointed triumphantly at his icing-laden index finger, proclaiming him as the perpetrator of the offending hole — and not me.
But Mark, showing signs of the lawyer he would become, eloquently deflected my whine. He cited my many past offenses. I admitted nothing, conceding only that something else could have caused the hole — perhaps my cousin’s pet gerbil.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!INTERDEPENDENCE DAY
“I am totally independent,” he proclaimed. “I started with nothing and now make over six figures — every month! If I need anything, I just go out and buy it. I don’t need nobody for nothing!”
Wow! Isn’t he special? A completely independent, self-made man. What about you? Do you feel like you’re independent? Is it one of your goals?
We start out life being dependent. In fact, as infants, we can’t do anything for ourselves. We’re exclusively dependent on our parents and other caregivers for absolutely everything — food, clothing, shelter, etc. As we grow, we learn to stand on our own two feet, literally as well as figuratively.
As kids, we strive to become more and more independent. We work hard, freeing ourselves from our reliance on family and friends. That’s a good thing. To move ahead in life, we must learn to fend for ourselves. But are we ever truly independent?
Take the guy quoted above. Is he really independent? Who picks up his garbage? When he clicks his remote to watch the latest reality-soap-opera-talk-show, who’s working behind the scenes at the power plant to make sure electricity is flowing through the lines? When he’s hungry and needs to get food, who delivers gas to the station where he fills up his tank so he can drive to his favorite specialty grocery store? When he gets there, who rolls up the sushi and places it on those little plastic trays before he grabs it from the refrigerated case? Who makes those plastic trays? When he’s diddling with his cell phone while driving back home and runs his sports car through a red light right into the oncoming path of an eighteen-wheeler, who fires up the “jaws of life” to cut him from the wreck? Who drives him to the trauma unit? Who sews his mashed and bloodied body back together? Who guides him through months of physical therapy so he can get back to being his independent self?
Maybe we’re not as independent as we’d like to believe. Maybe independence is just a façade.
I’m not suggesting that we should continue living through dependence, like we did as children. We’re neither dependent nor independent. What we are is interdependent.
Every day and in more ways than our over-zealous egos like to admit, we all rely on each other, for just about everything. There is no shame in that. It’s simply the truth.
None of us are totally independent. We are all interdependent and every day is really Interdependence Day.
So, the next time you start feeling smug, looking down on someone who you feel is beneath you, remember that person is in some way aiding you to do what it is you do.
We’re all in this together, whether we want to admit it or not. It is because of what everybody else does that allows me to do what I do.
So, I just want to say, “Thank you!” I appreciate what you do. I promise to continue doing what I do to assist you in what you’re doing. And, I wish to admit publicly that I’m totally interdependent.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!
