Blue Glasses, Annoying Radio Preacher Men, and the Occasional “A-ha”

I just rolled back into town yesterday after 4 glorious days in North Carolina studying various topics in ethics. The trip down and back is a simple one when the weather is nice, but traveling alone I usually need at least some radio to pass the time.

Enter the Annoying Radio Preacher Men.

Without satellite radio, there are extensive swaths of road in the South where you just can’t find anything but guys on the air telling you what God wants, expressing their great confidence in my “nature” as a woman, and inevitably trying to sell something for actual cash money.  I try to just get a station where the voices are semi-calm and not screeching about fornication and the sulfuric fires of hell.

I don’t know who these men were, but one of them seemed to be the show’s host who was interviewing another guy who had a book about marriage he wanted to promote.  I lingered on the station when I heard the promoter say, “Men, we get on the crazy cycle because we don’t accept our wives for their true nature.  She sees the world through pink glasses.  We see the world through blue glasses.  She can’t see what you see.”

This was just weird enough that I had to stick with it.  Plus, I LOVE it when radio preacher men who clearly are misogynistic share their extensive wisdom about “the nature” of women.  I cracked my neck, took a deep drink of Diet Dr. Pepper, and settled back to be enlightened.

True to tradition, there was a tremendous amount of clueless stereotyped garbage about men, women, and marriage that I despise.  I can tolerate it because I see the increasing desperation of these voices to gain an audience and to justify their belief systems to themselves.  It’s on the way out for sure, but that is why it can be so entertaining.  It’s like listening to old tapes of Abbott and Costello.  And yet it was not all completely without value for me.  There was one bit in this routine that grabbed my attention and will hold it for some time.

According to the promoter, there is a sizable study out there in which hundreds of men were asked this question:  If you had to choose, would you rather a) be considered inept and inadequate by everyone, or b) be alone and unloved?

Over 80% of the men questioned chose option B.  When I did my own informal research on this, I got the same results.  I also noted that the men I asked answered with absolutely no hesitation and utter confidence.  Better to be alone and unloved than to be considered incompetent.

The promoter used this point to talk about conflict in a marriage, and how the deep commitment to and need for respect can influence a man’s behavior.  Though there was no corresponding study there was an assumption that the reverse of these priorities is true for women and I unscientifically have to agree.  I see it all the time and have my whole life.  Not every woman reflects this of course (thus my dislike for these kinds of pronouncements), but I can see evidence that many women will suffer disrespect and allegations of incompetence rather than risk the threat of being alone and unloved.

Again, all of this is quite sweeping and in no way takes into account that each person is unique, each person is not married or even interested in that, each person is not carved out of some imaginary heterosexual blue or pink stone that God grabs from his quarry and chisels into humanity in his spare time.  I rebuke all of that as untrue and quite ridiculous. But it’s difficult to dismiss the information that may be relevant here to many people negotiating long-term relationships where these gender-specific hierarchies of need may be playing out.

I clicked off the program after hearing my “a-ha” take away point.  Men struggle to show love when they feel disrespected.  Women struggle to show respect when they feel unloved.

Whoopi Goldberg used to wear purple glasses.  I say we all get our hands on some of those.  (Whoopi would have a field day with my radio preacher men……..)

Image credit:  U2 Station

King of Pain: Always Be?

In 1983, I was just about the happiest pup in the play yard.

September 1983

I was a teenager, and everything – almost – was going my way.  In retrospect, it was one of the best years of my life.  I remember one very difficult rite of passage related to losing a good friend to major mistakes (his), but other than that, all of my memories of that year are very positive.  Like all adolescents, a touchstone of my memories is the music.  That year, The Police released Synchronicity.

One of the biggest hits from this album was King of Pain.  I sang it.  I wrote the lyrics.  I drove around town with my friends listening to it.  I hold it as a “Top 10” of my high school years songs.  And I had no more idea what it was about than I knew how to split the atom in my kitchen.

Today of all days, I know what it is about.  I accepted something today at last that I was postponing, postponing mostly due to my desire that it not be true.  Who can say why some things are clear in one interpretation and not in another?  I think it is in the interpretation, but also in the life experience.  I came across a video of another popular music artist singing the song, and in the first listen I got it.  Maybe it’s today.  Maybe it’s that the artist’s gender and age match mine at last.  Maybe I’ll never know.  But listening today, all of the images that for eighteen years have been strange and mysterious suddenly converged into a single, clear message: Futility is painful.

The images in King of Pain are not just about futility.  The images are nearly 100% images of life in its natural state, being exactly where it is “supposed” to be doing exactly what it is “supposed” to do, and yet being unreachable and unable to continue its purpose.

A dead salmon frozen in a waterfall.  A blue whale beached by a spring tide’s ebb.  A king in a position to lead, who is rendered blind.  A piece of cloth, run up a flag pole, whipped about in a wind that won’t stop.  A fossil trapped in a high cliff wall.  A cat unable to come down from a tree I’m sure it joyfully climbed.

This song is a very sad poem about doing everything right and still being in trouble and not knowing what to do next.

I think I’m really very grateful I had no idea what it was about when I was young.  I wouldn’t mind not knowing now.  But there is more…..all is not lost!

Closer to now.

Whenever someone asks what famous person living or dead I’d like to have dinner with, I am never prepared to answer.  Today, I am prepared.  I want to have dinner with Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner.  I want to ask the man who voiced King of Pain where he is now.  It’s not that I don’t think he still understands where he was in 1983; but he’s 60 years old this year and I imagine that after living nearly twice as long now as he had when he first sang his sad and haunting song, he has a new layer of perspective on those images.

Sting, just drop a comment here on the blog, friend.  I’ll email you and set something up.