This article by Ray Spitzenberger first appeared in MAGES for Jan. 6, 2022, East Bernard Express, East Bernard, Texas.
In my Golden Years, if I am served something that looks and tastes like pig slop, I am likely, if asked, to say it tastes like “pig slop.” Before I grew into my cantankerous years, I was a people-pleaser much of my life. As a very sensitive, caring person, I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and so would skew the truth a bit to say kind things. I rather think the way we respond, act, and react in situations involving ethics is a reflection of our parents’ response system.
Going to great lengths to avoid hurting another person’s feelings certainly reflects my father’s mode of operation. On the other hand, in spite of being a kind and caring person, my mother tended to say what she thought, at best, making her appear a tad indiscreet, and at worst, somewhat rude. For instance, she seemed to be perfectly happy to describe her old outhouse to friends and strangers alike, insisting it was a family heirloom deserving a State Historical Marker! And if someone served her a piece of pie that did not come up to her standards, she would tell them what was wrong with it.
My wife’s grandmother possessed this same blatantly honest response system. One Christmas, when I brought Peg’s family a bottle of expensive dry white wine as a house gift, her grandmother responded by exclaiming, “Tastes like vinegar!” And, you know something, it did taste like vinegar! I loved her reaction, but Peg’s mother was “mortified.”
My mother-in-law seemed to live by a code of conduct in which being restrained and discreet in all you said and did was of utmost importance in your daily conduct. She was too ethical to skew the truth, but she was not capable of saying anything to another person that might seem blunt and rude. My wife reflects her mother’s life responses and has had to learn to adjust to my frequently indiscreet manners (or lack of), lol.
I found that as a people-pleaser in my younger years, the slightly false information I would communicate would come back to haunt me. If Grandmother Davis had been like that and had declared how much she adored the lovely dry wine I brought, she might have gotten bottles of it from me the rest of her life!
To cite a case in point, I remember many years ago being asked by my deer-hunting friend if I liked to eat deer meat, to which I replied that I did. Since I knew how much he liked and valued venison, I felt saying I didn’t like it (an understatement, I hated it) would offend him. Because of this little white lie, I soon became the recipient of numerous packages of prime deer meat. I must let you know that the incident didn’t end with my throwing the venison in the trash, as I was able to give it to another friend who considered venison delicious!
In the springtime of my life, my impulse to always be kind and caring and uplifting led me into some slightly shady ethics, often with their consequences, — like telling still another friend I enjoyed rodeos when I had never been to one before. Was cornered into attending a rodeo with his parents and greatly disliked every minute of it (and my ticket wasn’t cheap)! Never again, I said! Now, in the winter of my life, I must warn you, — when I am served tasteless glop, I will call it “pig slop,” or at least “glop.” Yes, I know, I need to take discretion lessons from my sweet wife.
-o-
Ray Spitzenberger is a retired WCJC teacher, a retired LCMS pastor, and author of three books, It Must Be the Noodles, Open Prairies, and Tanka Schoen.