ALL YOU, AND I, HAVE TO DO IS LISTEN

1/17/19

We had a 6:30 A.M. flight home from Ft. Myers last week; there are very few lengths to which the Quinns will not go in order to save a few bucks and the fare was cheap.   As is our custom, we left for the airport very early, just in case, but everything went smoothly so we found ourselves arriving at the airport before the newspapers were delivered; hence, plenty of time and nothing to do.

Few people are in a terrific mood at 5:00 or 5:30 A.M., and even fewer are in good moods at that time when they are preparing to leave a semi-tropical paradise for the frozen tundra that the Chicago area becomes in January.    A guy at the gate initially caught my attention because he bore something of a resemblance to a guy with whom I worked years ago.   I noticed that, unlike most of our fellow travelers, he was chatting amiably with someone who didn’t appear to be in his party, saying very little, mostly just smiling and nodding his head in agreement with his apparently newfound friend.   It didn’t appear that they were discussing anything of consequence; this was mere small talk.   However, not only was the guy, whom I will call “the conversationalist” for convenience, appearing to enjoy it, his conversational companion seemed to be brightened by the conversation.   A little while later, I saw the conversationalist talking with someone else, who was also smiling and laughing.   The conversationalist was simply nodding his head, laughing, and smiling, saying little but clearly brightening someone’s day, or at least someone’s hour.  Being the cynic I can often be, I thought to myself that the conversationalist must have been trying to sell something; maybe he was a “financial adviser” (I put the term in quotes because I know some very good financial advisers, but a lot of people who assign themselves that title are little more than snake oil purveyors, but that is grist for another mill.) or a bond salesman.   I did, however, allow for the possibility that he was just a pleasant man; progress, however slow, is progress, but I digress.

Looking further around the gate, I noticed an older guy whom I will describe as a “gloomy Gus.”   You know the type:   the expression on his face was a cross between a face creasing frown and a look of utter disgust at those around him, the look of a curmudgeonly misanthrope, and it seemed to be permanently sculpted onto his visage.   Yours truly is intimately familiar with this look because I have been accused, and not entirely without basis, of displaying the same look, though hopefully it hasn’t assumed the degree of permanence that it had on the visage of the man I will now call, for simplicity,
“the curmudgeon.”   I felt bad for the guy.  Maybe he had had a hard life, had recently gotten some very bad news, or maybe he was just an a—hole; I couldn’t tell, but I said a quick prayer for the guy.

Finally, we were called for boarding.   Due to the vigilance of my travel savvy wife, we got an “A” boarding on this Southwest flight, a high “A” boarding but an “A” boarding nonetheless.   As we got on the plane, I noticed in one of the front rows the conversationalist and the curmudgeon sitting next to each other.   The curmudgeon was, mirabile dictu, talking, smiling, and laughing…and the conversationalist was smiling, nodding in agreement, and laughing.  

What a gift the conversationalist was giving to the curmudgeon…the gift of listening.   It wasn’t very much, but it seemed to have changed the entire mood of the curmudgeon.   That seemingly permanent scowl had been replaced by a grin.    The conversationalist had made this man’s day, or at least his next few hours.   Maybe the conversationalist was indeed a bond salesman or a “financial adviser,” but, in any case, he was a good person doing the Lord’s work.

At this time of resolutions, I have a suggestion for myself and for you:  be a better listener.   The art of listening is something I know I should develop.   I’ve been told a few times that I’m a good listener, but I don’t believe it; I know I should develop this skill, or art, both quantitatively and qualitatively.   

Even if you are a scoundrel who cares little about other people and even less for doing the Lord’s work, listening more intently and more often can redound to your benefit.   As I tell my students, just about everyone’s favorite topic is himself or herself, so if you’re interested in cultivating a relationship for business, social, or perhaps especially romantic reasons, you would do well to let the other person talk.   You will be amazed at how high an opinion of you s/he will develop.  

Hopefully, though, you and I will develop our listening skills not to seek personal advantage but out of a desire to be compassionate, loving, or maybe just interested.   We’ll listen because we want to give a gift, a gift that, at least at first, may not be easy to give, but certainly is inexpensive and is nearly always appreciated.   We might even melt the heart, at least temporarily, of a curmudgeon and, by doing so, do the Lord’s work.