Ice Storms and Earthquakes: Why Words Matter

The state of Georgia and other points south of the Mason-Dixon have had an uncharacteristic number of wintry encounters in the last month.  We had about three days of surprisingly cold weather, coupled with a few inches of snow. SNOWMAGEDDON paralyzed traffic in Atlanta and in parts of Alabama.  This past week we had some ice and snow that led to downed trees, lost power, and displacement of the population. It was...(drumroll)...ICEMAGEDDON. It was scary.  It was inconvenient.  It was not the end of the world.  Neither of these events were cause for the proliferation of  “-mageddons” that I have seen and heard. 

Not every meteorological anomaly constitutes the end of the world.  Exaggerating is certainly a part of everyday lexicon, but that doesn’t mean it’s healthy.  After surviving a plane crash and parachuting into the ocean, Mrs. Incredible (aka Elastigirl from the movie The Incredibles), instructs her children: “…both of you will get a grip or else I’ll ground you for a month.”  We could do with some more people who have a grip.  But, we all lose control of what we actually mean and just say things, right?  Especially in the heat of the moment.  I have heard and been guilty of such extremes in every day speech since the New Year.  To wit:

Example One:

Son #2: “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse, a hippo, and four puppies.”  He had pasta and was satiated.

Example Two: 

Me: “Son, I have told you a million times not to have toys in the kitchen. Not a million times, but it sometimes sure feels like it.

Most of life is just living.  It’s just snow.  It’s just a tree branch (or ten).  It’s a hunger pang.  We seem to have become so bored and complacent in regular life that we need to exaggerate to give meaning to regular happenings.  Normal things can be meaningful, even important without crazed invented language.  Sure, snow in Georgia isn’t usual, but it isn’t Snowmageddon either.  This linguistic phenomenon crept out of social media and into mainstream journalism. A certain amount of serious concern is in order when things go awry, and when this does happen, we certainly get a large dose of perspective, don’t we? 

Then, just as some power was restored, the ice began to melt, and people settled in to watch the Men’s Figure Skating Finals, we had an earthquake.  The quake had an epicenter in Edgefield, South Carolina that was felt distinctly at my home, 28 miles away.  And, by some reports, it was felt from Florida to North Carolina to Alabama; it was 4.4 on the Richter scale.  Youngest son thought it was the coolest thing ever.  High school students were talking about losing their quakerginity.

Um, what?  This is a perverse use of neologism + hyperbole to talk about what is happening. The “–maggedons” had taught their offspring well. Granted, teens have long been notorious for calling everything “awesome” or “epic.”  Unfortunately, there are repercussions from such exaggeration.  If so many things are amazing, then nothing is amazing.  

The movie Notting Hill was unremarkable as a romantic comedy, but the main character, William and his flat mate Spike share barbs, reminding each other to keep things in perspective:

Spike:  Hi, hey, you couldn’t help me with an incredibly important decision, could you?

William: This is important in comparison to let’s say whether they should cancel the third world debt?

Spike:  That's right.  I'm at last going out on a date with the great Janine, and I just want to be sure I pick the right t-shirt.            

Perspective is important.  This is the film where I believe I lost my Hugh Grantaginity, and I didn’t actually remember the main story line, but I did remember the perspective checks that these friends toss at each other.  Words matter and perspective matters and the words we choose for the things that happen around us matter. It is the language that we use that frames our outlook.  Our outlook helps define our resilience in the face of unusual and commonplace events alike.  How we use language defines our interpretations of daily routines and world events.

Can you imagine reading a history book if everything that happened had to have a nickname or the suffix  “-mageddon”?  It was an awesome negotiationmageddon in Yalta where Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt all lost their meetingaginity as they discussed the epic future of the post-warmageddon world. Huh?  It seems that in the past we were able to frame events more appropriately.  The Yalta Conference was certainly important, but it was not equivalent to the Rapture.

Our world may have many things going wrong; we will encounter events that require preparation. We will be caught unprepared.  However, we simply need to deal with things, appropriately and with correctly corresponding language.  Snow – even in ill-prepared southern states – is not the end of the world.  Likewise falling branches. Below zero temperatures in the Midwest don’t constitute the Second Coming, and a heat wave in the summer doesn’t mean the mouth of hell is yawning open to swallow us whole. Power loss for three or more days is not fun, for sure; maybe is a challenge; it’s disheartening and worrisome.  That’s it.

William:  (about not being able to find his glasses) It’s one of life’s real cruelties.

Spike:  That’s compared to like earthquakes in the Far East or testicular cancer, yeah?

I don’t advocate that we go around always forcing ourselves and others to realize how much worse others have it than we do.  However, a balanced view of the relative importance of the events in one’s life is really an asset, and having accurate vocabulary to discuss one’s mindset is important, too.  Frightening and bad things do happen.  But, as Mrs. Incredible orders, “I’ll tell you what we’re not going to do: panic.”   To their credit, most people around here did not panic as snow and ice rolled through.  Most people prepared and dealt with the cards that nature handed out.  Many people reached out and helped friends and strangers alike.  It was not epic; it was not awesome; it was not amazing.  What was it then? 

Quite simply, it was inspiring.    

Ice: Storm and Cubes

Ice is dangerous.  It can down power lines.  It can crack hearts.  It can leave people stranded without warmth in cold temperatures.  It can break tree limbs that break fences and cars and roofs.  Growing up in the Midwest, snowstorms were normal; ice storms were to be feared – even more so down south.

As I sit here trees in our neighborhood are melting off the ice storm that is rumored to have ruined at least a third of Augusta’s tree population.  With the exception of a damaged fence and a few branches, our house and yard have remained unscathed.  And, thanks to living in a subdivision across from the substation and in which the power lines are all underground, we have been warm and happy and entertained the past two days.  And, as one guy at the grocery store said today, “Y’all, next Friday we won’t even remember this – it’s gonna be 78 – we’ll all be in flip-flops.”  He’s right.  We will have few long-lasting effects other than being even better prepared next time. 

However, the day before the ice rolled through here, another kind of storm hit -- small, personalized storm. It was the kind of storm that reminds you just how cruel and petty some people can be.  It was the kind of mini-storm that left no broken fences or car wrecks. It was subtle.  There were no icicles or damaged plants after this storm came by.  The fallout from this storm, however, will be longer lasting.

Earlier this week, a divorced dad that insisted his son spend a certain afternoon “with him” for the dad’s birthday.  The son initially didn’t want to go, but agreed because of the festivities and the birthday.  He was cajoled into going because it was the right thing to do – you know, Dad’s birthday and all.  Once the evening came, the son saw his dad for about ten minutes, and then the dad left the son with grandmother, telling the son he was going to a birthday celebration with his wife and kids.  The son was not invited. Son returned home defeated, angry, and hungry.  He had not had any supper because he thought he was going to the birthday dinner.  Despite his initial resistance to the event, he had gotten excited to see this part of his family. He felt included and happy.  But, his dad stopped by grandmother’s house, said a quick hi, and took off, leaving him behind; it was a small, personal ice storm that will have unfortunate lasting effects. 

We all have the capability to create an personal ice storm for someone else.  I vividly remember about six years ago when I was totally fed up with a student's excuses.  She came in to talk to me, and I just couldn't be kind.  I wasn't understanding.  I didn't say it out loud, but she knew that I was mad.  I froze her out.  After a class or two, I realized that not only had I given her the cold shoulder, but I could actually feel the lingering coldness of our encounter.  Before the end of the day, I had found her, apologized, listened to her, and been forgiven.  It was a slippery patch for sure, and I can tell you I've had more than one.  Haven't you?

There is a kind of ice that can grow in people’s lives.  It is a callousness that some people seem to be born with.  Maybe it is covetousness – saying “I’m so jealous” more often than “I’m so happy for you.”  It might be a desire to hoard instead of being generous. It is a self-centeredness that some cultivate as a defense against the world.  Perhaps it’s being so self-involved you omit someone from your birthday dinner. It might show up as hostility towards an innocuous but slightly annoying neighbor. It is an anger that is the result of unfortunate circumstances.  This ice has many manifestations.  We all have moments of ice in our lives, but as our communities do after winter storms, we really should try to learn from them.  From time to time we should take inventory and make sure we aren’t turning too cold when it comes to the things that really matter.

If we can learn anything from the big ice storm, it is that we need to recognize the bits of ice and slippery patches in every day life.  Everyone has a few cubes lurking around – so, instead of stock piling and letting such coldness overtake our interactions or lives, how about if we gather them all up and make drinks, get together, relax, and enjoy each other's company?

Frozen margaritas, anyone?

What Two Inches of Snow Can Do

The news down this way has almost melted.  We have a little bit of a snowboy trying to hang on in our front yard, but after 65 degrees this afternoon, he will be gone.  In relation to the southern snowstorm, there have been articles written this week about: politicians’ lack of common sense and general incompetence; teachers’ dedication and kindness to stranded students; southerners’ lack of driving skills; and, those who cared for and reached out to those who were stranded.

It’s funny to me how people want to blame politicians for the weather and its fall out.  Atlanta experienced an unfortunately timed wintry mix earlier this week; we in Augusta were waiting and hoping for a few flakes to play in.  No matter when the winter arrived, I fail to see how the governor or other politicians are to blame.  It was a matter of bad timing on the part of the gods of weather, businesses, government, and schools.  Of course, wherever you may live, it is probably de rigueur to blame others for whatever inconvenient or scary occurrences people encounter.  How about a little less of blame-mongering and a little more of: well, this is life?

New reporters’ surprise at teachers’ dedication always surprises me.  Teachers stayed overnight at schools with stranded students in and around Atlanta this past week.  Of course they did.  That’s the kind of people the majority of teachers are.  I’m annoyed that our society still marginalizes and vilifies teachers in so many subtle ways.  Teachers are not people whose work days end at 3:30 and who want summers off.  Teachers do so much more than anyone thinks they do, and they are continually on call for staying overnight in a snow storm or bolting their doors against school intruders.  I fail to understand why positive news stories about teachers are more surprising than the negative ones.  I guess it goes back to the old saying, “If teachers walked on water, the headline would read ‘Teachers refuse to swim.’”

I have lived in the South for almost fourteen years.  It is true that many southerners have no idea how to drive in the snow or on ice.  The reason for that would be (drumroll): the winters are mild down this way.  There’s very little ice and snow.  But really, who cares?  How is this observation an indictment of southern people?  It’s not.  I lived for 33 years in the Midwest and there are plenty of people up that way who careen off ice covered roads and end up in ditches when snow falls.  Really, it is those folks who should be shamed (if, in fact, anyone should be) about poor winter driving skills.  It is always harder to do something that you have little experience with – how about a little compassion?

Also, littering newsfeeds and feel-good story slots were the tales of those who housed strangers, who brought hot chocolate to the bumper-to-bumper interstate, who put their four-wheel drive vehicles to use.  Not a few of my southern friends touted such acts as “southern hospitality.”  I beg to differ.  Such acts are noble, kind, caring, but they have nothing to do with “southern hospitality.”  Such acts are borne of the thought patterns and generosity of human beings, regardless of where they grew up or currently reside.  Not everyone thinks to go out of his way to help others, but to be sure, there is no more or no less of such “hospitality” in the South than anywhere else.  Human beings have the capacity for great and small acts of kindness, and the snow reminded us of that this week.

Two inches of snow brought out the best in people around Atlanta.  Two inches of snow brought out some idiocy in our news commentators.  Two inches of snow caused a major city to shut down.  But, two inches of snow might just serve to remind us to embrace all parts of life, even the inconvenient ones; to remember that human beings are often decent and generous; and, to recall that we all are really linked in so many more ways that we care to admit.