This post is long, for which I apologize. I was going to post it in two segments but then realized that if I did that, the end of the story would appear first in the archives, which wouldn’t make much sense for those who were “catching up” rather than reading afresh.
So if you need to read this in two installments, I understand, but here’s the tale in its entirety.
Years ago, Sandy (my sister, to those of you new here IDW) lived in New York City. We shared an apartment and worked together and, most of the time, we got along flawlessly.
We worked on one major project for nearly five years and, especially in the final year, our hours were hideously long – sometimes we each put in 80 hours a week or more, and rarely less than 60. On one memorable occasion, we worked for 36 hours straight to put together a presentation one of our sponsors was demanding on deadline. Even at 3 in the morning, racing around the city to find a Kinkos that was open, we never once spoke harshly to one another. We pulled together and got the job done. (And kept the sponsorship, too, thank you very much.) I think our ability to work and live together impressed us both; we don’t call Sandy The Wolverine for nothing and (I’m told) I can be very bossy. (Though I maintain I am Sweet and Malleable.) (Alright! You can all just stop your snickering NOW!!)
ANYWAY. There was one memorable occasion when our patience with one another wore a little thin. One night, after one of our 12 hour days, we were heading home. It was late and we were both too exhausted to brave the simmering heat of the subway, so we hopped in a cab. We sat side by side, too tired even to chat. But at Riverside Drive near 125th Street, I looked out at the Hudson at a sight so spectacular that I simply had to share it. With the setting sun and the Jersey shoreline as its backdrop, a lone sailboat with rainbow colored sails moved with stately elegance. The view was so picture-postcard perfect that it took my breath away.
“Sandy!” I exclaimed. “Look at that!”
The Wolverine flicked her eyes toward the river, then rolled them slightly and dismissively away.
I found this odd and decided to try again.
“Sandy? Do you see that?! Isn’t it beautiful?!’
“Beautiful?” she snorted. “Right.”
Now I was annoyed. It was one thing to be exhausted from working too hard. But surely the sight of that boat against the setting sun was refreshing! How dare she dismiss it! My Big Sister Ire began to bubble toward the surface.
“Sandra Ellen! Are you telling me you can’t appreciate that gorgeous view?!”
“Gorgeous view!! What ARE you talking about?!”
She glared at me. I glared back.
“That!! The sailboat out there!! Don’t you think that sailboat is beautiful!”
“SAILBOAT?” she looked at me in disbelief and with a level of disdain we commonly reserve for those we love who are, unfortunately, also certifiably insane. “Are you seriously referring to that garbage scow as a SAILBOAT?”
It was hot. We were both exhausted. To our credit, our nostrils flared, our lips flattened into lines of disgust and our eyes locked, but neither of us made a move to strangle the other. Not that we weren’t considering it. I thought there was no way in hell she should dismiss such beauty out of hand, no matter how tired she was! She thought that even for her airy-fairy Pollyanna sister, calling a garbage scow a beautiful sight was going a bit far. The air was thick with tension as we both considered throttling the other for her lack of vision.
And then. The cab rounded a slight bend in the road and the view opened up. We began to laugh. Because now we could clearly see there were TWO boats on the Hudson that evening, sailing side by side. One was a pristine white sailboat with rainbow colored sails. The other was a squat, ugly garbage scow with scabs of rust clinging to its battered hull.
I often think of that evening. The incident underscored for me an important life lesson: Two people can be traveling side by side. They can be headed toward the same destination. They can looking at the same situation or scene and see things that are completely different. And they can both be 100% right about what they see.
The lesson is that even when we disagree with what someone else sees in a situation, we need to listen respectfully. We need to keep moving forward and wait. Because there’s a good chance that they are every bit as “right” as we are. When we’ve traveled farther and our point of view broadens, we may be able to see what they see, and vice versa.
I’ve been amazed at how well this homily has served me and with the nearly universal breadth of its application. It applies to our inner lives (we all have sailboats and garbage scows on our Rivers of Self; the challenge is to lead with the sailboats), relationships, politics, even disputes about religion.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once noted that, “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.” When you remember that the river contains sailboats AND garbage scows and that the fact you can only see one of them isn’t evidentiary proof the other isn’t there, you’re half-way there.
So if you need to read this in two installments, I understand, but here’s the tale in its entirety.
Years ago, Sandy (my sister, to those of you new here IDW) lived in New York City. We shared an apartment and worked together and, most of the time, we got along flawlessly.
We worked on one major project for nearly five years and, especially in the final year, our hours were hideously long – sometimes we each put in 80 hours a week or more, and rarely less than 60. On one memorable occasion, we worked for 36 hours straight to put together a presentation one of our sponsors was demanding on deadline. Even at 3 in the morning, racing around the city to find a Kinkos that was open, we never once spoke harshly to one another. We pulled together and got the job done. (And kept the sponsorship, too, thank you very much.) I think our ability to work and live together impressed us both; we don’t call Sandy The Wolverine for nothing and (I’m told) I can be very bossy. (Though I maintain I am Sweet and Malleable.) (Alright! You can all just stop your snickering NOW!!)
ANYWAY. There was one memorable occasion when our patience with one another wore a little thin. One night, after one of our 12 hour days, we were heading home. It was late and we were both too exhausted to brave the simmering heat of the subway, so we hopped in a cab. We sat side by side, too tired even to chat. But at Riverside Drive near 125th Street, I looked out at the Hudson at a sight so spectacular that I simply had to share it. With the setting sun and the Jersey shoreline as its backdrop, a lone sailboat with rainbow colored sails moved with stately elegance. The view was so picture-postcard perfect that it took my breath away.
“Sandy!” I exclaimed. “Look at that!”
The Wolverine flicked her eyes toward the river, then rolled them slightly and dismissively away.
I found this odd and decided to try again.
“Sandy? Do you see that?! Isn’t it beautiful?!’
“Beautiful?” she snorted. “Right.”
Now I was annoyed. It was one thing to be exhausted from working too hard. But surely the sight of that boat against the setting sun was refreshing! How dare she dismiss it! My Big Sister Ire began to bubble toward the surface.
“Sandra Ellen! Are you telling me you can’t appreciate that gorgeous view?!”
“Gorgeous view!! What ARE you talking about?!”
She glared at me. I glared back.
“That!! The sailboat out there!! Don’t you think that sailboat is beautiful!”
“SAILBOAT?” she looked at me in disbelief and with a level of disdain we commonly reserve for those we love who are, unfortunately, also certifiably insane. “Are you seriously referring to that garbage scow as a SAILBOAT?”
It was hot. We were both exhausted. To our credit, our nostrils flared, our lips flattened into lines of disgust and our eyes locked, but neither of us made a move to strangle the other. Not that we weren’t considering it. I thought there was no way in hell she should dismiss such beauty out of hand, no matter how tired she was! She thought that even for her airy-fairy Pollyanna sister, calling a garbage scow a beautiful sight was going a bit far. The air was thick with tension as we both considered throttling the other for her lack of vision.
And then. The cab rounded a slight bend in the road and the view opened up. We began to laugh. Because now we could clearly see there were TWO boats on the Hudson that evening, sailing side by side. One was a pristine white sailboat with rainbow colored sails. The other was a squat, ugly garbage scow with scabs of rust clinging to its battered hull.
I often think of that evening. The incident underscored for me an important life lesson: Two people can be traveling side by side. They can be headed toward the same destination. They can looking at the same situation or scene and see things that are completely different. And they can both be 100% right about what they see.
The lesson is that even when we disagree with what someone else sees in a situation, we need to listen respectfully. We need to keep moving forward and wait. Because there’s a good chance that they are every bit as “right” as we are. When we’ve traveled farther and our point of view broadens, we may be able to see what they see, and vice versa.
I’ve been amazed at how well this homily has served me and with the nearly universal breadth of its application. It applies to our inner lives (we all have sailboats and garbage scows on our Rivers of Self; the challenge is to lead with the sailboats), relationships, politics, even disputes about religion.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once noted that, “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.” When you remember that the river contains sailboats AND garbage scows and that the fact you can only see one of them isn’t evidentiary proof the other isn’t there, you’re half-way there.
