Effective Communication

A holy man once said, "He who loses his life shall find it." I have often thought of that phrase, and wondered how it applies to me. I am sure I will define that new life one day, but for now, I am still looking for the life I misplaced several years ago when I decided to go into the family business and become an Indian trader. I began thinking about the old insurance salesman from Arkansas who had been in the store earlier this week. As we talked about his agency, the life it allowed him to build, how he hadn't had a real vacation in several years, and his inability to convince himself it was time to retire, he said, "It's hard to kick a dawg off a gravy train."

For this part of the country, I think I have engineered a pretty good locomotive. The gravy is thin, but it is gravy. With the kids growing up, and college looming, Laurie is convinced we need a few more "Tender Vittles" in our bowl. My wife doesn't understand how I have gotten so lost in the trading post, and recently accused me of spending all my time and energy on the business, thus leaving precious little for the kids and her. I gave her all the standard explanations, but she wasn't buying it. My wife sometimes thinks of my chosen profession as "a futile effort". Although I feel the same from time to time, I have trouble admitting it. Instead, when things are not going my way during these discussions, I have a bad habit of redirecting the dialog and attempting senseless abstractions. Laurie long ago caught on to my strategy, so she doesn't budge. In response to my final argument, she gave me a harsh look, and said, "That's not what he meant! As usual you have taken a meaningful statement and twisted it to suit your needs." "Well that's the way I interpreted it, and isn't it all about interpretation anyway," I pleaded.

My wife rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. She picked up her keys and headed towards the door, saying, "You are impossible! I have to go to work now." Out the door she went, mumbling to herself in frustration. As I watched her depart, a smirk spread across my face, and my eyes fell upon our three children, who were gathered in the kitchen witnessing the scene. They gazed in amazement at my smug attitude. All were shaking their heads and rolling their eyes, just like their mother had. My middle, sassy, child, said, "You have got to be kidding! Don't you ever learn?" I replied, "The real question is, don't you have some toilets to clean or ear wax to remove?"

As I started towards the scoundrels to give them a well deserved thumpin', a horn blasted outside, making us all jump, and giving the kids a chance to escape. Noticing Laurie gesturing wildly from the driveway, and thinking I may be in for an apology, I pushed open the window to hear what she had to say. "The Kirks are presenting a talk on marital communication this Thursday; we should go." I smiled sweetly and waved as she drove off, grumbling under my breath, "What the heck do those people know about communication that I don't? I communicate every day of my life, and do quite well at it, thank you very much." I looked around to see where those nasty, disrespectful children had gotten off to, but couldn't find them.

Later that same morning, I was making my daily Postum run to the cafe when I nearly tripped over our waitress, Nicole. Nicole's father and I were in school together, and I am very fond of his family. He has a business in Blanding, so we see each other from time to time, although not nearly enough. I consider him a good friend, and appreciate that he has entrusted his daughter to us for training. I intend to send my kids his direction when they are old enough to be indentured, which may be sooner than they think.

I asked Nicole how her father was getting along, and she told me that he was frustrated with the struggles of small town business. He felt that he may have made a wrong turn on the road of life by coming back home when he finished college; that he may have done his wife and children a disservice by settling them in such a rural, economically challenged, area. His earlier decision had come from the heart, and was based on emotion rather than sound economic principles. He had returned to support his parents as they aged, and to give his children the opportunity to enjoy a closely knit extended family. Growing up in a small town had provided Nicole's father with a strong sense of well-being, and a solid foundation in a world that does not always provide such fringe benefits. He simply wanted to offer his children the same experience. I know exactly how he felt; I have had the same thoughts.

As I wandered back to the trading post, I found Steve polishing the glass counters to perfection. I don't know what it is with him and Windex. It may be an obsession; perhaps an escape. Anyway, I told him what Nicole had said about her father. Steve nodded his head knowingly, and went back to the never-ending chore of removing fingerprints from the showcases. I know he has often contemplated those same issues. When I look back at the reasons my family and I are here, I realize that they are similar to those used by Nicole's father to rationalize his coming home.

Our parents provided us with a safe and secure home when we were young, and have supported us in all of our endeavors; as long as those undertakings were honorable. The sense of family and community runs strong for us in San Juan County. Wasn't it Dorothy who said, "There's no place like home"? The relationships we have developed through the years are more valuable than any material possession we could have acquired. It feels good here at the trading post; the harmony and dynamic of the place are in tune with its surroundings. Here you will find a truly human and friendly atmosphere, not because of Steve and me; we are mostly antagonistic and unpleasant, and getting worse daily (especially Steve). Maybe there is more time and room to grow out here; maybe our faults are generally overlooked, or just ignored. At any rate, we are where we belong.

When Laurie asked me to marry her, I mentioned that she would have to learn to live with imperfection if we hooked up. She thought I was kidding, but has come to know the truth in those words. Laurie puts up with my nonsense with the patience and love of a latter day saint. She provides me with enough freedom to hang myself on a regular basis, but has always been there to loosen the noose when I begin to choke. She knows in her heart that I would be out of place in any other situation, and would tell Nicole's father and me that we are truly where we should be. Only occasionally does Laurie force her hand, and drag me off to some communication in marriage seminar. I think she feels there is still hope for me.

While the economic rewards may be sparse, the emotional benefits of being on this gravy train are immeasurable. I think I'll stay until I am a very old dawg; God willing and the rocks don't slide.

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