Thoughts sparked by reading broadly...

All too often these missives, this emptying of pockets, begin with "it has been a while" and this is no different. Again my thinking turns to reading and self-reflection. In rereading Robertson Davies' "Deptford Trilogy" I recognized that in many ways, although the books are quite dissimilar, (my favorite book being "A Confederacy of Dunces") the aspect that has drawn me in to these texts might be the "six degrees of separation" that I perceive to appear in both texts. I have often experienced the phenomenon and I am sure many of us have has well, whether we realize it as such or not. Both books involve characters who seem to find their lives intertwined in strange and seemingly unpredictable ways. In a recent discussion with some friends I shared a story about a close friend, Ted, who invited me to go along on a trip to see his then girlfriend, now wife, at the Y camp where she worked for the Summer. He had been there before and had shared with some staffers that I seemed to "know everybody" and always made connections. One staffer scoffed at this and when I met him he, rather insolently, said "Ted tells me that you know everybody". As I recall my response was "I know a lot of people and I find that we usually have people in common", or something to that effect. He, again, somewhat snottily, said "yeah right". I then asked him, "where do you go to school?" they were all college students at the time. He responded, the University of Southern Maine, to which I replied, "do you know John Z and Terry Y" and he said, "oh yeah, they were RAs..oh my god you did it!". The aforementioned pair were fellow grad students in my program, and I knew they had both come from USM. The point of this is not self-aggrandisement or to point out some sort of personal parlor trick, but to indicate that my affinity for these texts lies largely in my own experience. I can only attribute my experience to a self-diagnosis of thinking in "set theory". The Boulean Logic in my head allows me to think of others in common experiences or common communities. the two books are very much place based one in rural Ontario, the other in New Orleans, but the active characters have networks beyond their geographic or social circles. Again, my point in sharing this. I wrote once before that a very dear friend had once called me "the least judgemental person I know", and that touched me deeply. I'd like to believe that focussing on the individual, not their status, position, or station, alloes for a kind of intimacy that, while possibly making myself vulnerable, shows a willingness to "know" them. Truly know them. No one needs to be confessional about it, but if you and I have both come from blue-collar industrial backgrounds in Western PA or Eastern OH, we have a common bond somewhere. If we both have gone to colleges in New England, we may have places and possibly people, in common. Having worked my entire life in Higher Education I have been fortunate to meet many people in various capacities. Knowing who thay are is not name-dropping as much as it is "common experience finding". My takeaway from this is; if we all spent more time seeking what we have in common rather than what divides us, makes us different, we would live in a more civil, more understanding society. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

emptying pockets is sometimes hard to do...

 

 

I try not to be maudlin in these occasional  meanderings of my mind (really, I do), but Terri and I just returned from Charleston SC after a week of touring and getting some much needed sunshine. We left in a snow squall in Buffalo and the weather was a welcome respite. Charleston is, as many old southern cities a beautiful place with an abundance of history. Not too long ago we had made a similar trip to Savannah, a town with the same pedigree and prominence in the antebellum South.

What caused me to consider my mixed emotions about both trips is that in the midst of beautiful and historical buildings, old churches, and fine dining is the dark history of human bondage. The Old Slave Mart Museum above is a very rich cultural center that actually moved me to tears. The excellent and well documented history on the first floor gives an accurate and compelling story of the inhumanity of the slave trade. The second floor has more artifacts, history, and a wonderful docent named Christine who told the story of the slave mart in a well organized and well researched presentation. The story of "man's inhumanity to man" is incredible and filled with paradox. While "the enslaved people" were considered as chattel and less than full human beings, their bodies were sold to medical schools of the time and dissected as instruction for physicians of the time. They were not human enough to be treated as such, but they were human enough to be desecrated and carved up in the interest of medicine. Terri purchased the book, "The Price for a pound of their flesh" which documents this atrocity.

 

We saw lists of slaves for sale including details of their work skills and possible uses. This included some notes such as "imbecile" or "dropsy" as though used cars were being sold with "some defects detected." That and the history of splitting families and the separation of native speakers of certain African languages kept people in a constant state of dislocation and despair.

I felt as though I was imposing my "enlightened Northern values" on the history only to find that many Northern banks profited from the slave trade by making "mortgages" of a sort when owners lacked sufficient funds to purchase their human chattel. New York, Boston, and Philadelphia banks, located in non-slave states benefited from the institution through finance.

I had to step outside to compose myself, so taken was I with emotion. I don't offer this as a self congratulatory note on my perspective, but feel compelled to share it as an indication that all that is beautiful is not without its own dark history. Beautiful homes, ornate and massive churches, intricate ironwork so much a part of Charleston and Savannah history and culture was built on the backs of enslaved people.

 

It may be the current state of the world and the dehumanization taking place in Ukraine that has heightened my awareness of just how evil, we can be, but I was moved nonetheless. Even Fort Sumter, the site of the beginning of the Civil War was built with over a million slave made bricks, many if not all from Boone Hall plantation which we also visited. It actually hurt my heart to see this. As I said, I had to step outside to compose myself.

Will we ever evolve enough to see the barbarity and brutality of which we are capable?

 

A Series of Unusual Events

 

In many previous posts I have noted my "un-churched" status. While I have never claimed to be atheistic, I am probably a-religious if there is such a classification. That said I AM open-minded and able to consider differing points of view.

(The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I have recently been reading the Bhagavad Gita, a sacred Hindu text heavily steeped in yoga and morality. What has been a surprise to me, fallen catholic that I am, is the similarities between this ancient text, the moral teachings of the bible I was taught, and what I think of as indigenous faiths/beliefs with which I am familiar. (ed. I have finished the Bhagavad Gita)

For some time now I have regarded god as within me. I an loathe to pray to an external power as though I have no self-control, no ability to change, no free will. The Bhagavad Gita has opened my eyes to a different perspective on beliefs. The focus is on the self, and becoming truly self-actualized. I am sure this is not news to friends who have studied Buddhism, but it was a new perspective for me.

One common denominator I find among all these versions of faith, including what I know of indigenous Native Americans, is a sense of a "lord above" making worship of gods in the sky somewhat universal. While considering these thoughts on faith, I have experienced a number of what a friend would call "god winks", explanations for seemingly random events. While reading about the Bhagavad, I also came across references to reality that have led me to read about quantum theory again, and the very nature of reality. Schrodinger's cat comes to mind as our observation of phenomena affects the phenomenon itself.

I suppose the focus of these random ramblings is to say that the link between my thoughts and the surprising coincidences seems to be based in Physics. If energy cannot be destroyed, only transferred, and if we are capable of being reincarnated based on our karma/dharma, does it not make sense that the energy that leaves our bodies at the time of death returns to the cosmos and can come back or remain as pure energy in the universe from which all things have come? My reading of the Bhagavad, admittedly an uninformed reading, suggests that everything that is always has been, everything that will be exists now. Hence my (again uninformed) reading of quantum reality. 

If I have ever actually emptied my pockets of mental lint, this is it. Sorry for the logical and philosophical leaps, but I am trying to organize my thoughts in some meaningful way.

If this has meant anything to you (or if you can help me make some sense of it) please comment below or on Facebook where this will appear...

Thanks for reading.

Grief, heartbreak, and their many manifestations

 Grief has many manifestations. We mourn loss in different ways and for different types of loss. I know that we usually associate our grief with death, but death too has many ways of presenting itself.

 

If you have read any of what I write, you'd know that I love Mary Oliver's works and have found meaning and comfort in many of them. Much earlier when blogging I wrote about how March has always been a difficult month for me. The greyness, the bare trees waiting for Spring, and the remembrance of the loss of both my parents. Both in March albeit 4 years apart. But grief has no fixed time frame, and I'll not go into a Elizabeth Kubler-Ross reflection.

Covid-19 has given us all cause for grief. Some loss of loved ones, some loss of connection with valued friends and colleagues, and some with loss of work or faced with economic uncertainty due to the pandemic. Not to diminish the very real pain of lost loved ones, we have all experienced some level of loss. A dear friend lost his mother quite a while ago, but was unable to gather with family and friends until this year. Terri knew of his love and devotion to his mother as a colleague of hers commented on what a loving support he was for someone who he knew would never come home, never again be the mother he cherished. He expressed his grief and love in a very moving and meaningful service that was appropriate to her "joie de vivre" and love for friends and family. He is still grieving but has taken some solace in the support of friends and family.

While being a supportive friend I came back in contact with another friend, or maybe more appropriately an acquaintance who was dealing with his own difficult situation.He had already lost a sister to cancer and was facing the same situation with another, close sibling. His father was now admitted to the hospital and the  prognosis was not good. He was not well, but aware enough to know that he would soon lose another child. After her death, he too passed away.

I do not intend to be morbid, but his health was not good, and I have to believe that his health was also affected by a broken heart.

I've written often of my father and his life and times. One thing I neglected to note in my last post was that the first time I saw my Dad cry was at the death of our Aunt Anne. The woman who had raised him and his five brothers. My father was not often an emotional man, but I saw, even at six years old, the impact and broken heartedness he experienced. It would be some time before I saw him in that light again.

My Dad seldom called. the calls were always initiated by my Mom who would put him on the phone, so when he called one evening years ago, I knew something was amiss. He asked me "are you alone? Can you talk right now?" It as so unlike him I knew something very bad had happened. He wanted to talk to me somewhere away from my children so I took the phone in another room. He was audibly shaken and could only say "something terrible, something terrible". He had called to tell me that one of my cousins had tragically taken his own life. Having lost my Uncle Bill in WWII I knew that the worst family tragedy we could experience was losing a child. As I noted in an earlier post about my mentor, I understood how difficult it is to receive that call. He was devastated. 

Dad was not much of a traveler. He used to joke that he didn't fly because they wouldn't give him "frequent flyer" miles. But, he and my two Aliquippa uncles made the trip to the funeral in support of my uncle.

Why all of this background? Not long after this my aunt fell into poor health. Some time after she passed a "cousin-in-law" a physician, told me that if anyone ever died of a broken heart, she had.

I have come to realize that grief is not isolated to loss of a loved one, although that seems to be the hardest to bear. There is no "coming back". But hopefully there is closure and we can move on.

Another friend has experienced one of the most devastating losses I can imagine. "Ghosted" by a lover. No closure, no answers, no explanation. This is both heartbreaking and cruel. How can we leave a loved one without notice, without any opportunity to understand. I am deeply hurt for my friend. I cannot grasp how someone you love can treat you so callously. I know my friend is still mourning. I hope my friend can heal, can trust and love again.

I too have experienced loss, but no where as deep or devastating as what I have described. I was hurt, disappointed, and affected on a deep level that threatened my self worth, my self esteem. As I have processed this loss I have come to the mantra I have described here before. I focus on Patience, Kindness, Forgiveness, and Gratitude. The hardest of all has been forgiveness. In mourning it is coming to grips with the loss and forgiving the other so we can forgive ourselves. Outside of loss due to death, forgiveness is often transactional. I can be grateful for all the good that has happened for me, and I realize that the root of gratitude is grace. I can be graceful in my sadness and forgive the transgressions I experienced. Hence, the Mary Oliver quote at the start. I was given a box of darkness, but I have found a way to appreciate it as a gift.

as always, thank you.

About Honor and Family

The dictionary yields several definitions for honor. It is both a noun and a verb, and it is used in many different settings; military, academic, athletic, and in discussions about virtues.

This may seem saccharine, but I would like to address this in a personal way and write about two of the most honorable people I have ever known, my Uncle and Godfather, John William Nairn, and my great aunt, Anne Byrne.

My Uncle John and my Dad were very close and for a long time I had assumed that their close bond was a result of circumstance, they were the two youngest of the six Nairn brothers raised in the "Bricks" of Aliquippa by my great-aunt, Anne Byrne. Aunt Anne came to Aliquippa from Maryland, where my branch of the Nairns originated, to care for her sister, my grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Byrne Nairn, when she gave birth to my father, Thomas, in 1932. Shortly after my father's birth, my grandmother passed away, leaving my grandfather with six boys to raise. Aunt Anne gave up her life in Maryland, about which I know very little, to stay and raise "her" boys. She is the only mother my father ever knew. Aunt Anne loved her nephews with a ferocity that was legendary in the Bricks back in the 30s. No one messed with the Nairn boys without incurring her wrath, also legendary. I find her to be an inspiration in her decision to "do the right thing" in caring for six often unruly boys that were not her own, but were unquestionably "hers". Honor was not in short supply when speaking of Aunt Anne. She lived with us briefly when I was quite young, both at King Street where I was a toddler, and later in Hopewell where my father bought his first, and only home. In the early 60s, my Uncle John built a new home in Center Township with a space for Aunt Anne to live. 

Honor was, again, not in short supply. John and my Dad made sure that Aunt Anne was always taken care of, and they did so unquestioningly. Her example has always served as a model of self-sacrifice for her loved ones, and her memory is honored to this day, even after the passing of all six Nairn brothers.

It took me a long time to appreciate and understand the bond between my Dad and my Uncle John. I was an adult before the reason became apparent, and it all had to do with honor. Of the six Nairn boys, only my Dad and Uncle John had not served in World War II. Alphonsus (Phonse, named for my grandfather) and William served in the Army, Phonse in the Aleutians, and Bill, who died off the coast of Italy in 1942,  Jacob (Jay) and  James served in the Marines in the Pacific, Jay on Guadalcanal, and Jim on Iwo Jima. Aunt Anne could never reconcile herself to Bill's death and always believed he would someday come home. Bill seems to have been my father's protector and role model. His loss was deeply felt by all, and to this day the name William has special significance for my family. John, born in 1930, and my Dad, born in 1932, were too young to have served, but worked to care for my Aunt and grandfather as they dealt with the grief only those who have lost a loved one in a war, and never came to closure can know. (Bill's body was never recovered). Post-war, Phonse stayed on the west coast settling down in California. Jay and Jim came home, Jay to WVU then Maryland and Jim to Aliquippa.  They both started families and set about creating the new lives that "greatest generation" needed so badly.

Somewhere, post-war, Uncle John joined the Army leaving my (still in high school) Dad with their father and Aunt Anne. In 1948, my grandfather died, leaving my Dad and Aunt Anne alone. 

Growing up I knew that my Dad was somewhat ambivalent about Phonse, but at that young age, I had no context for that undercurrent of tension. It seemed as though each time he visited from California I had a new "aunt", and Dad had little time for him. My memory of Phonse is him with a glass of Scotch and milk. He'd say, " the milk is for my ulcer, the scotch is for me". He'd visit a while and head back to California. My Dad never traveled to see him.

When Phonse passed away, my remaining uncles went west for the funeral, my Dad did not. He was unusually taciturn about his reason why, but I could sense there was some reason he would not share. As an adult, I came to understand why. It has to do with being honorable.

After the funeral, Phonse returned to California. My father was 16, and Aunt Anne was not a young woman, I'm not sure exactly how old she was. My Uncle John, then in the Army, applied for, and received, a hardship discharge so he could return to take care of Aunt Anne, and my Dad. He went to work in the steel mill, as my Uncle Jim did and later my Dad would follow, but he sacrificed his own needs, his own direction to care for others. Once my Dad could work in the mill, John returned to the service, this time the Marines, and served in Korea where he was wounded. After my grandfathers death my Dad had no expectation that Jay or Jim would leave their families and come back, we Nairns don't do that, but Phonse had no obligations in California and still went back, leaving Dad and Aunt Anne to fend for themselves. 

My uncle John did the most honorable thing I can imagine, putting his own life on hold to care for his family. I then understood the closeness between my Dad and Uncle John. Honor. Integrity. Respect. Responsibility.

When my Uncle John passed away a few years ago, the last of his generation of Nairns, my cousins and I gathered at his home, the place where he had provided for Aunt Anne in her last years, and as befits our Irish Catholic (despite the Scots name) tradition, we raised a glass of Jameson to his memory. Asked to make a toast, I offered that "we now walk in the footsteps of giants, big men who lived big lives, and made big sacrifices, may we honor their memory by always doing the right thing".

Thank you for reading.

Thoughts on ethical behavior

 I still haven't gotten to my book by Spinoza, but I have had a few occasions to talk with friends about ethics in this current world, and I am mostly dismayed. The behavior by our politicians on both sides of the aisle are loathsome, the refusal to follow the law by the "law and order types" is appalling, and the current situation in education, especially higher education, causes me some despair.

When I say both sides I mean that even well meaning people can err in judgement when they fail to take into account the impact of their decisions on others. I have taken enough policy classes to recognize that too often we, particularly in policy making roles, fail to look hard enough at the long term effect our actions may have on others.

Case in point, I won't name names but I feel I exercised good judgement on the situation I'll relate here.

In previous role at an institution I served, we had a new president and of course we went through the requisite strategic planning process including a re-definition/reaffirmation of our institutional values and mission. One positive outcome was to include staff in institutional governance and I was elected to represent my division. I enjoyed being a part of the process.

The previous president had retired under some controversy, and the faculty felt empowered to effect change based on the new institutional values. Among the institutional values was the common non-discrimination statement that the college would not discriminate on the basis of color, creed, race, religion, sexual preference, and so on. Fairly standard and not controversial.

However, members of the faculty senate felt that the presence of ROTC programs was in conflict with said values and were advocating that the programs be discontinued. The "ban" on gay members of the military was still in effect so it is obvious that this is prior to "don't ask, don't tell" and even more recent changes. The newly formed staff governance group was approached by the faculty group to ask for support for their position.  They laid out in detail how the ROTC policy was in conflict and that the presence of ROTC constituted a break from the institutional value statement recently enacted. 

An academic dean took the opposite position and advocated for ROTC as a positive for students and the military, stating that military officers educated in civilian institutions was preferable to an all academy educated military leadership, and that many students found the financial support critical to their ability to attend. The students entered the program voluntarily and with full knowledge of the existing policy. I found the Dean's argument compelling, especially as a first generation student who had considered, albeit briefly, entering a program that offered tuition support in exchange for service equivalent to the time one received the tuition support. (my father talked me out of it).

Then came the time for questions. I don't remember all of the questions that were asked but I do remember turning this issue over in my mind as I considered the impact of such a dramatic change. When given the opportunity, I asked and was answered as follows:

Me: Help me understand something, this is not an ROTC policy, but a military policy correct?

Them: Yes

Me: the military does not make these types of policies, rather these policies are made by the Department of Defense, and implemented by the military, including ROTC, correct?

Them: Yes that is right.

Me: The DoD is not run by the military, but by civilians who create policy.

Them: Yes, that sounds right.

Me: So our issue is not with the military, or with ROTC but with a civilian branch of government. If we recognize that to be the case, the only way I can see the college removing ROTC is to forgo all DoD funding including faculty research.

Them: You don't understand, we have academic freedom.

Me: Academic freedom has nothing to do with this. You have positioned this as a moral and ethical issue. To penalize students, and excuse faculty for taking the same "tainted money" is hypocrisy.

I could see them freeze in their seats as they pondered how to explain to engineering, science, and computing faculty how they had traded away the federal funding for research to take what they perceived as a "principled" approach. In my mind, policy needs to be implemented fairly and equitably. The meeting ended, and the issue never resurfaced in my time there.

I share this not for self-aggrandizement, but it strikes at some of the issues that face the academy today. Money means nothing to some, as long as it's not MY money. I agree with turning down gifts with strings or that impose ideology on the institution. I agree with rejecting gifts that are truly "tainted". (Who wants to open the John Gotti School of Law?) I also agree with rejecting gifts that "keep on taking" with restrictive covenants that cost the school more than the true value of the gift.

I'd speak to the issues involved in honoring slave-holding, racists from the past in naming buildings and erecting statues, but that is a much deeper project, and one with which I have not had to deal. (perhaps another time).

This feels a bit long, and possibly a bit self-aggrandizing, but I would hope that we as policy makers and implementers consider the effect our decisions can have long-term, and are possibly damaging to the people we purport to serve.

Until the next wave of righteous indignation overtakes me, thank you for reading my rant.

Some thoughts on relationships

 Lately a friend and former colleague has posted a number of deep, thoughtful messages on the importance of relationships. Much of his inspiration and perspective is based in, and formed by, his deep Christian faith. I appreciate that he has found a foundation upon which to build his discourse on relationships, but I don't share a faith-based view of how to make them work, how to get through the difficult times. I believe to make them work, both parties must be willing to work. The best of times in my marriage have been those time when we were clearly partners, not boss and worker, not boy-jobs and girl-jobs, but when we recognized that our success or failure was based on an ability to be fair with one another.

That sounds too easy, and it is, but fairness can be a complex issue in relationships. We may have times when one has to bear more of the burden for a variety of reasons, but at the end there should be recognition and gratitude, however difficult that may be to express. Another friend and I have been getting together over lunch to discuss a number of shared interests. He has gone through some difficult times and I admire him for staying positive despite the setbacks. It struck me the other day as we were talking that his (failed) marriage was a difficult relationship and apparently anything but fair. He had asked me about Terri who has had a rough time managing at the hospital. Covid, staffing problems, issues of too many sick people and not enough beds, emergency departments in the region re-directing ambulances to other facilities, as you grasp, it has been stressful and difficult. I told him, honestly, that she is very stressed and tired and otherwise weighed down in this. I have, on occasion, taken time to "talk her down" before she gets home so that I am not the target of her frustration. I want to help however I can, but I cannot be a strong supporter if I must bear her anger. I'll listen to her vent, but I'll stop her when it shifts from situations that are not work related, but convenient straw men to tear apart.

He asked how that was received and I shared that it is sometimes difficult and time consuming, but she is very smart and will, in time, realize I, or the dog hair on the floor, or the mess on the counter, is not the problem. That she needs to redirect, and deal with work issues at work, not at home. He seemed astonished, adding that whenever he attempted that conversation there were always consequences, as though trying to give someone perspective was negative, wrong, and not supportive. This conversation made me think of the other friends posts about relationships, of finding someone who will appreciate you for you, someone with whom you can share and not feel threatened. Good relationships on built on that; friendships, partnerships, marriages, families, social groups and faith groups.

Having read so much about the psychology of dysfunction (see earlier blog on sociopaths) I know I am no expert but good relationships are about an equal or agreed upon power dynamic. When our children were small Terri and I joked that we worked well together because I don't do blood and she didn't do puke. Gross perhaps but a shared recognition that even in the things we'd prefer not to do that it is never one person's responsibility, just as one person cannot make all the decisions. I have often commented in the past that one of our family challenges is having three oldest children each vying for leadership. Caitlin, Terri, and I are all firstborns and accustomed to making decisions. It wasn't conflict, but there are often tough compromises to be made.

I often share memories of positive comments made to me about myself and others. One of the recent, and very positive comments, was made by a former colleague, now retired, with whom I had worked at two different institutions. At the first we were in different divisions but often socialized after work or even at the golf course. My group was comprised of four of us, all department managers, who genuinely enjoyed one another. We socialized as families, as couples, as colleagues. My colleague from the other division once said to me "I was envious of your group, how you liked one another and did things together. My group just went their separate ways, we didn't have your 'espirit d' corps'. I had to ponder this a while, I had never thought of us as special. I'd never thought of it as different, but I realized in that moment that our relationships were deeper than work, we trusted and cared for one another outside the work environment. It even extended to some "tough love" from two great friends from that group who pulled me aside to say "are you trying to get fired? what is going on with you?" the confrontation was enough to make me recognize the "black dog" of depression that was following me, and I needed to seek help. I am forever grateful to them for what I am sure was not an easy conversation for them, but...relationships. Sometimes people we love or care about need to hear bad news, but they also need our support.

I don't edit myself so this may come across as rather 'stream of consciousness' or disorganized, but my point is to reinforce how important relationships are, and the intimacy of these relationships has more to do with how we care for one another rather than physical intimacy. I am not afraid to say I love these guys.

Some 20/20 hindsight

 

The above quote from singer/songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard is a reminder to me that I have much for which to be grateful, including painful lessons learned along the way.

One downside of having time on one's hands is the old saw, attributed to both St. Jerome and Chaucer that "idle hands are the devil's workshop/playthings" for me the idleness is not necessarily in my hands but in the rabbit hole that is YouTube where a VERY powerful algorithm has figured out that I like Golf, OU Football, lists of odd or unusual things, and self-help/psych videos.

In my leisurely scanning of the above items I have come across some very interesting content about sociopaths and narcissists. While I am no psychologist or psychiatrist, I am enough of an observer of human behavior to realize that I have spent time with three sociopaths and one definite narcissist in my professional life. One of the sociopaths has actually been helpful to me, as I have never been a target or manipulated, but I have seen and heard some of the vitriol directed at others, the incredible vindictiveness, and the verbal abuse. Maybe seen is not the correct term as I have not observed it, but have been told by the individual in question of their verbal destruction of another. The switching between charm and aggression is startling. The other two sociopaths in my professional life have been much more harmful and hurtful to me.

Neither of these two individuals are capable of empathy, both are liars and manipulators, in my amateur analysis they appear to has anti-social personality disorder. Both seem to have experienced, or at least made up, tragic backstories offered to elicit sympathy. Once sympathy is shown, it is perceived as weakness and now it is manipulated and abused. Both appear to be absent any empathy, both blame others for their shortcomings, and oddly both are misogynistic. I'll leave their gender to the reader to infer. Both caused me personal pain that I finally came to realize was allowing them to continue to bother me. I've forgiven them. I'll never do anything to help them, but as has been said before, and better by the Buddha “Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."  I can't be that guy.

A supervisor many years ago told me that I was a "very nice man" and that helped me in my career, but it could also be a shortcoming in some situations. As the president of the college in Pennsylvania, I was at what can only be called a hostile editorial board meeting when one of the members said "you haven't done anything" . My niceness was stripped away and I nearly jumped the table to throttle the guy. My chief of staff grabbed me by the arm to stop me as I said "I take umbrage at that", "we have graduated students and placed students in jobs and transfer to other institutions". The editor later mocked me in the paper saying that "Nairn had taken 'umbrage' to statements made by the board". I had to let it go but I was very tempted to send a letter saying a newspaper man ought to know the word since he obviously confused it with umbrellas...but I digress.

Tonight in my readings across the web I came across an article that wrote about empathy in the workplace as healthy for organizations and a good leadership practice. As I have written time and again, kindness, empathy, forgiveness are virtues to which we can all aspire. 

OK, I can accept that I am nice, strength or weakness, virtue or vice, I am, or try to be. So now I'll be "not nice". The three aforementioned sociopaths have all been visited by karma, or "bad juju" as a former colleague called. The narcissist, about whom I have not gone to any detail, is now in prison for murder. I had spent a lot of time with this person and knew there was something unsettling, as my carpenter father would have called "half a bubble off" about them, but I could never have foreseen what eventually happened. 

As I said earlier, all of this knowledge from a few YouTube videos.

Maybe I should hang out my shingle?