BUMMER! (SOONER?)

If you've never been to the OU/Texas game (aka: the Red River Rivalry) you need to put it at the top of your Bucket List. To begin with, I went several years and never had a ticket until I arrived outside of the stadium (so don't use that as an excuse). Admittedly, that was before the Internet became the place to buy/sell tickets. My belief is that the intensity is so fierce there, you don't want to show up to the game unless you're positively planning on winning/celebrating; otherwise the aftermath there at the fairground is brutal. So the faint of heart or those with wavering resolve, sell their tickets to avoid the hazing and humiliation that follows a loss; so tickets can be found! For the most part, Texas fans with extra tickets only sell to fellow Texas fans, and OU fans follow suit (keep it in the family, misery loves company, to the victor go the spoils...you name your cliche).

But this storied event has several things that make it truly unique. Yeah, it's an intense rivalry; but there are alot of those across the country. Sure, a bunch of folks are holding up "We're Number One" fingers; but in this game half the folks hold up "We're Number Two" fingers (aka: Hook 'Em Horns) while the rest of the fans hold up the symbol for "Killin' Horns" (aka: yeah, you ARE Number Two; BOOMER SOOMER). Also, the game is held on the fairgrounds of the Texas State Fair, one of the nicest, cleanest, most enjoyable state fairs I've ever attended. Alright, I've only been to THREE state fairs (the Oklahoma State Fair, the Texas State Fair and the Alaska State Fair) so I can hardly be labeled a State Fair Aficionado! But with my intense love for the Great State Fair of Oklahoma, for me to even hint that the Texas version might be superior is deep-fried blasphemy. Oh wait, I have been to the Tulsa State Fair and the Muskogee (State?) Fair (yeah, you're right...those don't count). Anyway, the setting is superb.

Lastly, as you can see in the picture above, the stadium is evenly divided (at the 50 yard line) between OU fans and Texas fans. So, depending on the quarter, your team may be driving the football towards enemy lines or into the welcoming roar of the home crowd. Either way, each endzone is loud; VERY loud; awash in Puke Orange or Perf Crimson.

The result of all this? You have a stadium full of fanatics with basically one opinion; one belief: "Our team is going to win!". The problem with that logic (not counting the pouring rain and 15-15 tie in 1984 that I sat through) is that half the fans are WRONG (it just takes three hours or so to prove which ones are mistaken). Still...you are SURE when you enter that stadium that you are on the RIGHT side of the 50 yard line; the RIGHT side of the BOWL!

Is it wrong to want to be right? I had a life changing epiphany in Mrs. Vandewalker's third grade class at Willard Elementary School in Ada, Oklahoma. She was the only teacher I ever had that I was sure didn't like me. Sure, we've all uttered things like "She hates me!" and "He doesn't like me!" about different teachers we've had, when deep down we knew it wasn't true.  Being challenged or disciplined can often come across as 'dislike' or even 'hate'. Many times God's chastening and/or life's trials can cause us to wonder if we're 'jinxed' like Joe Btfsplk or if we're on God's 'bad side' like a Hittite or an Amorite. As for me, I personally have never thought God was mad at me. I have wondered what He was trying to tell me or what in the Land of Goshen He was waiting on. But I'm His child; and a Father never hates His children. A parent will always love their child. Mrs. Vandewalker was a parent (I think!). But she wasn't MY parent (I thank!).

It all began in second grade. I transferred to Willard (from Shawnee, Horace Mann) in the middle of the year, and I discovered the second graders at Willard were well into writing cursive (and I wasn't).  Old lady Vandewalker was the 'cursive writing' teacher for the second graders. She seemed to have very little patience with my feeble attempts at writing properly and took great joy in grading down my writing papers. Still to this day I'd rather print than write; and outside of my signature and an occasional check, all her efforts to get me up to speed in the writing department were pretty much wasted. Unfortunately (for both of us), she also wound up being my third grade teacher. I vividly remember her passing out a test paper once, and when I saw I had made a 100 on it, I said something out, like "All right! I made a 100!" To which she responded quickly and snidely, "Now if you could just get to school on time!" Talk about lettin' the air out of a kid's balloon. Now c'mon...if you're in third grade, and your mom brings you to school late, then how is that the kid's fault? Excuse me for not riding the bus! I also remember her slapping a kid on the back to get his attention (that might have been me she whacked, but I'm not as sure on that particular memory).

Mrs. Wiggly's 4th Grade Class (first row; striped shirt; post epiphany)

So here's the memory I am sure of...Mrs. V. was teaching geography. She was waxing eloquently in front of the class, but had written something on the blackboard that didn't seem correct to me. I raised my hand and questioned her about it. She kind of shut me down in a hurry (as some of my classmates snickered at my foolishness to question her 'highness') and bulldozed right on with the rest of her lecture. Even though I felt sure of her error, I sat down, shut up, and tried to sink down as far in that wooden desk as possible. But sure enough, a few minutes later, she seemed to realize what she had written was incorrect, she nonchalantly changed it, and kind of patted herself on the back (not to be confused with being 'whacked on the back') for catching the error, and went back into lecture mode. Try as I might to say, "That's what I was talking about!" or "Hey, I told you so!" it was too late! I had wimped out so much in earlier my attempt to correct the teacher, that my moment of 'glory', my chance to take the old gal down, the opportunity to show that I was indeed 'smarter than a fifth grader' (teacher) had passed. Her royal "V-ness" had blown me off; and I in turn had blown it. And that was the epiphany. As small of a moment as it was, I decided right then and there, that I'd rather be embarrassed for loudly saying what I thought to be right, than sit idly by and even be mildly ridiculed by being told I was wrong (as long as I was pretty sure I was right). In other words, no gumption, no glory. If you wrote (or said) something that was incorrect, I wasn't going to be afraid to point it out; to show you how smart I was. It's certainly a confident way to live. But how long is it before confidence becomes obstinance? At what point is it no longer Christlike?

Jesus was never wrong. He knew everything, but He wasn't a 'know-it-all'. He was humble about it. He didn't need to laud his perfection over his disciples. He didn't need to prove over and over to them that He was always right. And I believe He offers me the relief that comes from NOT having to be perfect. I can let my guard down. I don't have to always be right. He says to let HIM handle it. That's not MY burden...that's HIS burden.

Matthew 11:28-30 "Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

What have I REALLY learned in over 50 years of life? Here it is, so listen carefully. Not only is nobody ALWAYS right, most of the time nobody is EVER 100% right. Now please understand I'm not talking about Biblical rights and wrongs. I'm referring to the 'rights' and 'wrongs' we encounter in our every day lives and in our dealings with others; the difference between "I said this," and "he heard that"; or "she said this" but "I heard that".

It's an eye-opening revelation (certainly much deeper than my third grade one). The subjective nature of how I interpret what you said versus what you meant when you said it are often worlds apart. Yet each one of us (at the time, and certainly later on) are just as sure of what we heard (or said) as the other person is sure of what they said (or heard you say). Confused? Don't be. Just realize that none of us are as good at communicating as we think we are. We think; and then we speak. Even if we speak without thinking, a host of input has gone into that 'blurtation'. Either way, the person we are speaking to doesn't have the luxury of our prior thoughts (or the unique knowledge from which we speak). Therefore the message is never pure; is never exact; is never exactly as the speaker intends it (or as memorable as the speaker might think).

So much of what we say is inflection, that it's very much like 'singing voices'. They always sound 'right' in our heads...not nearly as 'right' on recordings. Music is subjective. Likewise, listening is subjective. The secret to surviving the not-so-exact science of communication is not to be obstinate in your message giving; not to flex your all-knowing muscle about what you say. The solution (at least my contention) to dealing with the inevitability of miscommunication, is to step back, and try to ascertain how the person might have heard the message differently than you delivered it. To me, that's the description of an all-knowing person; the person that can see both sides (and is always looking at both sides). It's not the OU or Texas 'fan' attitude (short for 'fanatical). Because if there are winners and losers, then you're describing a tackle football game or a debate...and debates (or hard contact sports) aren't really fun to be in. Especially, when you thought you were in a conversation.

So let me go all Stuart Smalley on you for just a minute (or at least look in the mirror). It's not that I was right and you were wrong. It's not even that I said one thing and you heard another. If I say that you weren't listening closely enough, it's just as likely that I didn't communicate effectively; that I didn't work hard enough to get your full and undivided attention. I can reverse the pronouns if that helps clear it up for you. And darn it, you need to understand it (if you want people to like you).

Miscommunication is not a win-win; it's not a win-lose; it's a lose-lose. "You didn't hear it right" is synonymous with "I failed to get my message across". Neither one of us succeeded. I am no more to blame than you are. So how can either one us be sanctimonious and proud about being correct?  What a 'burden' that is to live with.  That's what the world calls pompous (and sometimes adds other words that can be found in the Bible, but aren't appropriate here).

If you can mold yourself, to be more considerate, to be more understanding of the art of communication, you may find yourself to be a person that is much more pleasant to talk with and to deal with. You will be a person folks don't avoid, but like being around. A gentle person. An humble person. More like the person of Jesus. If you're a Christian, shouldn't that be your goal?

"Communication Breakdown" is not only one of the all time great Led Zeppelin songs, it's something that happens a lot...I contend that it happens all the time. Maybe every time. In fact, the sooner you assert that you know what you meant, the sooner you can be sure you were probably misunderstood (at least partially). And you know what they say happens when you 'assert' don't you? (Well, maybe I heard that one wrong, but you get the point, don't you?)

Still sometimes, the best way to communicate, is to listen. And if you find yourself always explaining (defending) your point of view, it may be time to listen. But beware; you can be just as misunderstood when you don't speak (but if no one's listening, then does the 'tree make a sound?').

So how do I tie this all together? Well, besides already sounding like a preacher that can't wrap up his sermon, let me summarize it like this: the more you talk, the louder you speak. The more you listen, the louder you communicate. The SOONER you get this, the better you'll be. In other words, TEXAS BITES!

Now do you get it? BOOMER! (Did you think I said "BUMMER"?)