The Head Fake — Signing my name in cement
When someone told me recently, “I’ve been thinking a lot about something you said,” my gut reaction was “oh, [redacted].”
Having stories and opinions in the public domain is the equivalent of being a kid who likes to write messages and sign his name in wet cement. No matter how clever you think you are at the time, the chance of the ideas remaining clever into perpetuity is about 50/50. Actually, the odds are probably less than that. You can always wash the cement off your finger, but your mark lives on until they replace the sidewalk.
But this wasn’t about something I had written, it was about something I had said, which was a very good sign. Before I was reminded of the content of my comment, I knew if I had said something colossally stupid, I could deny it. “There’s no way I said anything like that!” Or I could pretend there was missing context that improved its quality considerably. “You didn’t hear how I qualified that a second later.” The spoken word has lots of ass-covering tactics available.
Of course, if it turned out I said something semi-profound, there unfortunately would be no hard record of it anywhere, and trade marking or copywriting at this stage might be tricky. At this point I was over-thinking this, and quit the inner monologue to find out what I said…
“You said, ’Some of the most important people in your life 20 years from now haven’t even been born yet.’” Oh sweet relief – that’s a keeper. Defending some stupid off-handed comment I made at some dinner party after two glasses of wine 14 months ago is always uncomfortable. But then again, surprisingly, so is accepting a compliment. I did in this instance in a really sheepishly awkward way, which probably made this person wonder if I was really capable of saying something worth remembering in the first place.
Why is my willingness to take a compliment about the same as my willingness to take a punch? I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’m better at writing than speaking. Maybe it’s because I’m descended from stoic Midwesterners. On the subject of my self-examination, I have no memorable quotes.
I was happy about it afterward, though. All anyone who puts their ideas out into the world wants is a little nod once in a while. A note, a smile, a pat on the back. A tiny bit of acknowledgement. In the 1990’s, Jon Lovitz would spoof Broadway actor Harvey Fierstein on Saturday Night Live, and would constantly repeat in a gravely whine, “I just want to be loved, is that so wrong?” We all do, Roy, we all do, even if some of us are bad at being graceful and gracious when it happens.
The Head Fake is featured regularly in the print and online editions of The Bridge. You can email Jay Kelly at jk@theheadfake.com, or visit his web site at www.theheadfake.com.
last revised: October 12, 2007