It has been very hot and humid here. A lot like hell. My husband walks the dog twice a day. When it’s really hot I always say to him “Don’t walk too far. It’s too hot.” Often, though, they’re gone walking for half an hour or longer. So today, when they finally got back, I said to Jim, “Remember that day when it was dreadfully hot and you walked back to work after lunch? And when you got there you were so hot and tired from walking? And then you had a stroke?” He said yes, he remembers. “Why did you bring that up?” he asks me.
And in that moment, a problem I frequently encounter revealed itself to me — I often fail to make my point clear. I said, “Because it’s hot and you were out for so long and I don’t want you to have another stroke,” I said to him. “Ah,” he responded.
I think I do that on this blog. Because sometimes I get confusing feedback, and I think to myself, But that’s not the point.
For example. The Verdi Requiem concert. I swear, it’s not personal. A number of members of the symphony are my good friends, and I love them. But I don’t love every concert. And often I love MOST of the concert, with exceptions. That does not mean I think my friends are bad musicians. I don’t think THEY did a bad job just because the music wasn’t what I like, or because there were parts of the concert that didn’t go so well. I’ve never heard, or noticed, any of my friends messing up during a concert. Ever. So you guys–you know who you are–don’t think that I’m criticizing YOU when I criticize a concert. I will try to make my point more clearly in the future.
Or take the summer camp entry. I swear, it’s not personal. This entry could be about ANY two upper-class kids, and the points I failed to make would be the same. 1) Why can the kids not go to camp with children who are not just like them, and 2) it seems more than disingenuous to send your kids to a camp that costs $6,000 while you’re simultaneously crying poverty. I will try to make my points more clearly in the future.
Here’s another one. When I complain about men in general, I’m not trying to say that every single man who has ever lived is exactly the same as every other man. Mine is really good, for example, compared to most others. He doesn’t still play with toys, he regularly does chores without me having to tell him to do them, he does all kinds of things that I hate doing so I don’t have to (like cooking, grocery shopping, and mowing). Sometimes I do wonder what’s going on in his head, but I’m pretty sure he wonders the same about me. It’s not personal, you guys. It’s just confusion. I’ll try to make my point more clearly in the future.