Why Sorry Is the Hardest Word 

A single word has the potential to make a huge positive difference in how we relate to others and ourselves as well. The deceptively simple word is sorry.  Saying and believing in being sorry can be a positive starting point for solving problems, creating trust, and building a climate of forgiveness and mutual acceptance.  However, when or how we use this special word makes a world of difference.  

Elton John called sorry the “hardest word” in his 1976 hit song.  This is because this expression of regret can be used in so many ways.   Sometimes it can be used as an automatic excuse as in “sorry for the inconvenience.” It can be made quite formal, as in “my apologies”.  Or it can become a way of shifting emotional weight to the person whose forgiveness is at issue, as in “sorry you feel that way”.  When the word “but” is added to sorry, a conditional twist may undermine the positive intention of being truly sorry.  In its best form, saying sorry becomes a way of accepting accountability and communicating honest empathy.  

By no means is it always easy to say you are sorry for your words or deeds.  It can make you feel vulnerable or guilty.  Maybe it will increase your exposure to criticism or legal retribution.  Viewed as a measure of power, being sorry may become a zero-sum game where one side wins and the other loses.   

Are heart-felt apologies becoming a rare phenomenon?  They certainly are in the world of American politics.  Instead “doubling down” and blame placing continue to generate excessive posturing.  Politicians want to project an image of strength and to reduce legal risks.   The internet and social media have complicated matters by expanding causes and explanations for every event. When alternative facts can be chosen, it becomes easier to find fault in others, or to blame situations on uncontrollable circumstances.   

The bureaucratic rules and divided responsibilities of an of an organization can play havoc with meaningful apologies.  To say you are sorry for a decision may numb the sting of an impersonal policy, but thoughtful leaders realize that being the first to apologize can have a positive impact on the culture of an organization.  It can clarify a decision, clear the air of rumors, and encourage others to be honest and express their feelings.  Depending on how an apology is delivered, a leader may encourage forgiveness or convince subordinates that an unwise decision will not be repeated.  

A key aspect of expressing regret is accountability. Three conditions must be met. First, taking ownership of a problem; second putting yourself in the other person’s emotional shoes; and third, explaining what went wrong without buts or excuses.  When all three conditions are met, both the receiver and the giver of regret may commit to an enduring change rather than a one-time fix.    

Today’s focus on social and emotional learning in schools is potentially powerful.  Its essence is to encourage and equip students and teachers alike to admit their mistakes openly and honestly.  Recent research strongly suggests that a culture of accountability can have a positive impact on students’ academic performance.   Not just in schools, but across our society, a willingness to apologize and accept responsibility for one’s mistakes is a crucial step toward repairing and maintaining relationships.    

In the movie “Love Story”, the most famous quote is that “Love means never having to say you are sorry.” This presupposes the two lovers are so emotionally bound together that they can read each other’s hearts.  Seldom is this altogether true.  I think a better quote belongs to Lynn Johnston who wrote, “An apology is the superglue of life; it can repair just about anything.”  

 

 Goose Hollow Pond Lives Up To Its Name

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

I never paid much attention to ponds until one greeted us more than 30 years ago when we purchased a 15-acre rural plot that we eventually named Goose Hollow. The pond is about four acres, and it lies at the lowest point of our land at the foot of a steep 200-foot hill above our house.  Water drains down into the pond, and seeps into it through swampy springs at the north end.  At the south end is a grassy dike with a sluice through which water drains when spring rains cause an overflow. 

My simple physical description of our pond is inadequate.  Its presence reminds us of an observation made about wildlife in the 1993 film Jurassic Park: “Life finds a way”.  Originally dredged by the Army Corps of Engineers in the 1950s, the pond was officially designated a flyway for migrating Canada geese.  Although that is no longer the case, our pond is a nesting spot for several pairs of geese each spring.  They nest immediately after the ice breaks up.  Within a day of hatching, apparently the downy yellow offspring can walk, swim, and feed themselves. 

 After a few weeks, their parents and watchful uncles take the goslings on day trips. They march in line out of the pond, across a cornfield, and into another nearby pond for the day.  By fall, multiple squadrons woosh in at dusk and stay the night before noisily taking flight early in the morning.  We have learned their habits, and we laugh watching them try to fly in a wedge.  At first they fail miserably, but by early autumn they do considerably better. We marvel at their monogamy and dedication to caring for their young.   Canada geese are considered messy pests by some, but we regard them as the stars of our ecosystem.

Adding lively variety to our mere (small pond) are ducks, water snakes, frogs, turtles, solidary herons, and even muskrats.  Apparently fish cannot survive winters in our shallow pond.  White-nose syndrome has killed off most of our bats.  However, peepers annually signal the warming days of spring with a resounding chorus of high-pitched chirping.

 Ancient snapping turtles and deep mud have always kept us from wading into the water. Instead our Labrador retriever Goose relished swims and always emerged with a smelly residue which was surely his favorite perfume.

Our ecosystem features wildflowers that thrive along the margins of the pond. Descriptively named, they include water picklers, eastern blue-eyed grass plants, pickerelweed, irises, arrowheads, queen Anne's lace, and cattails.  Daffodils wave in early spring breezes, and banks of goldenrod seem like a summer finale.  Pond weeds and bullrushes are abundant.

 Our naive ignorance of aquatic vegetation has taught us a lesson or two. As summer heightens in July, the pond loses depth and allows what we now know as invasive milfoil weeds to grow from the muddy bottom to clog the surface. With growing irritation, I decided to combat the “infestation” with an expensive infusion of triploid grass carp.

 According to the fish and game department, they consume large quantities of milfoil but do not multiply because they arrive having been neutered. Unfortunately, the fish died out and never made headway in the weeds.  We think the heron punched holes in many of them.

The bullrushes presented another dilemma.  From the upper end of the pond, clumps would break loose and embed themselves in the soggy margin of our dike at the lower end.  Their presence obscured our pristine view. Once again annoyed, I convinced my wife to row me up to these tall reeds, whereat I would grab hold and try to pull them out.  Soon I realized each stalk rests on a heavy muddy cannonball of roots.  Finally we hired a backhoe to root them out.   

An old iron bench at the foot of our pond sets the scene for changing foliage, flowers, and water reflections.   We savor peaceful walks along our dike.  Goose Hollow pond is an awe-inspiring ecosystem where everything we see is connected to everything else.  As the pond’s grateful protectors, we are just part of the plan.

 

   

The Different Worlds of the Same Hometown

 The Different Worlds of the Same Hometown

A hometown is typically where one was born, raised, or lived the longest.  But of course there is far more to it.  I consider Laconia, New Hampshire my hometown.  Although I was born elsewhere, and have spent many years in other spots, my time in Laconia from early childhood through high school shaped every feature of my future. I think of this experience as an anchor for my identity.    

The reputation of Laconia is enhanced by its location among lakes and mountains, and abundant year-round recreation. Every town has public schools, and those in Laconia drew my parents as educators.  Also, hunting and fishing appealed immensely to my father. 

 I fell into a social and economic lifestyle that endured long after I graduated in 1963. I married a like-minded hometown girl two classes behind me in high school.  Even my parents’ house looks much the same as it did years ago.  But the hometown I remember is akin to a myth for others. 

My glib assessment of Laconia’s stasis was shaken to the core by an autobiography written just a few years ago by James Novak.  Titled “Ora’s Boy” (available on Amazon), a reference to author’s penurious mother, the book details the challenging, mostly impoverished childhood of a boy growing up in the relatively a poor French Canadian Catholic neighborhood where street smarts were far more important than school. 

 Novak described many events he and I witnessed around the town, including motorcycle races, Boy Scout hikes and swimming lessons. Yet he skirted poverty constantly, had few clothes, and often went hungry. Even though our experiences were separated by just a few years, our realities were worlds apart. He represents a hometown I never really knew.  

I led a comparatively privileged existence. My father was the junior high principal and my older sister was a junior prom queen.  On the other hand, Novak could not even afford the clothes to attend a school dance. The contrast reminds me that every hometown experience uniquely reflects the socio-economics, culture, family life, and personality of the individuals who grow up there. 

James Novak was a feisty, resourceful character who eventually escaped Laconia and found success as a high-ranking procurement officer in the Air Force. My own career success came from becoming a public school administrator.  

What fascinated me about James Novak was his clear-headed and simple description of life in Laconia during the late 1940s. The lesson I learned from “Ora’s Boy” is that digging deeper may upset or dispel the unexamined biases we leave on the doorsteps of our hometowns.  Time changes the meaning and memories of a hometown when we take a deeper look at others who have lived there

Dogs Hold A Special Place in Our Hearts and Minds

                    

                                  Dogs Hold a Special Place in Our Hearts and MInds 

  The reasons for loving dogs are enthusiastic, eloquent, sometimes surprisingly scientific, and shared by some 66 million dog owners across the country. I am a believer not just because I have experienced daily life with two of these special companions in recent years, but because canines have profoundly shaped my understanding of others.  

At eight years old, I carved up my dad’s issue of National Geographic magazine.  My primitive scrapbook of pictured breeds convinced me that collies were the photogenic ideal. I certainly wanted one. The television premiere of Lassie in 1954 was an inspiration.  Unfortunately, my dad liked cats more. Also, a nip on my butt from the neighborhood German shepherd frightened me away.    

Even so, when I learned that our public library held shelves of novels about dogs, I voraciously consumed every one about collies authored by Alfred Payson Terhune. “Lad: A Dog” won my adolescent heart, and Jack London’s 1903 “Call of the Wild” captured my imagination. There is still no better way to learn to read for pleasure than to fall in love with an animal and make reading about it your passion.  

During this same period, tv and comic book canines proliferated.  I was captivated by Roy Rodger’s Bullet, Sergeant Preston’s Yukon KIng, the U.S Cavalry’s Rin Tin Tin and by the end of the 50’s Fred MacMurray’s Shaggy Dog.  To date, at least 152 different dogs have played important roles in movie and video land.  

Many years would pass before we would purchase a canine pet, but I was always fascinated by dogs and their owners.  I understand someone better if they own a dog and I can see how the dog reacts to them. Just to illustrate, 30 of our 47 presidents have kept dogs.  Most became beloved family members.  

Probably the best known was Fala, FDR’s Scottish terrier.  Throughout WWII, Fala became a news-fetching companion for the president who made no secret of his deep affection for the Scotty.  

Dogs sometimes become heroes because they selflessly save lives, especially during wartime.  Two legendary examples are Sergeant Stubby in WWI, a stray bull terrier who took part in 17 battles and even captured a German spy; and Chips in WWII who helped capture 10 Nazis in one day despite serious injuries.  

Dogs ingratiate themselves because they are either extremely trainable or bred for special purposes.   We see them routinely performing as drug sniffers, senior home visitors, therapy dogs, or seeing-eye dogs.  The most memorable example in my personal experience was a local deputy sheriff who trained and relied on three different dogs – a beagle who could sniff our paper currency, an arson dog who could sniff out minute traces of accelerant, and a blood hound who could track down escapees or runaways.   

Dogs and humans have been connected for at least 15,000 years.  The link is really a co-evolution where each species learned to benefit the other for survival and companionship.  Researchers suggest that when dogs and their owners interact, each experiences a biochemical surge of oxycontin, also known as the “love hormone”.  The mutual benefits are therapeutic and help to reduce anxiety, loneliness, and depression.   

Moreover, science suggests that dogs have a remarkable ability to empathize, that is, to read and respond to our body language and vocal expressions. Nor do they forget what they see.  One kind of memory is associative and immediate, thus explaining why they always perk up when we bring out that favorite toy.  Another sort of canine memory may last for years.  Witness how they remember and react to their owners or events after lengthy separations.  

I am convinced that the rewarding companionship of our wonderful pooches taught us more about ourselves than we ever thought possible. What seems to make dogs learn from us is just what we learn from dogs – how to express and reciprocate unconditional love.