The bang of the screen door. “Mom-MEE!”
The plaintiff cry of one of the little kids. It had an edge of anger to it, a wronged sibling in search of some kitchen table justice or, at least, some sympathy.
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” Ellen was hopping in place now, demanding attention. My mother was sprinkling clothes fresh from the line and rolling them up for later ironing. Still sprinkling, she glanced briefly at her distraught four-year-old.
“What is it, honey?”
Bang! The screen door slammed again as Jeannie bounded into the kitchen. Ellen slid over to position herself between the intruder and the judge.
“She said, she said…” Ellen spit out whatever terrible things Jeannie had said.
“Nu-uh!” protested Jeannie, “did not.”
“Did too” retorted Ellen, “you said.”
“Nu-uh!”
“Did too!”
A few more rounds of “nu-uh/did too.” My mother held up her hand for silence, set aside the sprinkling bottle, and looked at the two pint-sized litigators before her.
She didn’t ask for details; didn’t want to know. She simply said in a firm, kind tone, “You cannot say what someone else said. You can only say what you heard.”
‘But,” began Ellen.
“You cannot say what someone else said. You can only say what you heard.” Mom’s voice was even more firm but still kind.
Ellen’s lower lip went into a pout. Poor kid. It went over her head, but I had known it was coming.
“Now go back out and play.” My mother’s voice was insistent this time. Ellen tossed her curls indignantly then she and Jeannie let the screen door slam one more time before scrambling down the back steps.
Perhaps my mother had in mind only to end the bickering. I'd heard her use that corrective before. But for me, the eavesdropping big sister, the words took on more meaning, the kind of deeper meaning that would be just like my mother.
There is a gap between what is spoken and what is heard--I give you the "telephone game" of our childhood. My how twisted a message can become! There is an even bigger gap between the heart and the tongue of the speaker. We do not always, or often, use words that approach our real intent. There is a gap between the ear and the heart of the listener. We have an inner inclination to hear what it is we want to hear or what we already think that person will say
Fast forward a couple generations to a college-aged grandson taking a course in Communication, a conversation over frozen yogurt on a Saturday afternoon.
"Do you know what has saved my bacon so many times?" he asks between slurps. "I just remember all the times you told us: 'You cannot say what someone else has said; you can only say what you have heard.' Really, that kind of sums up the whole course."
There's a sweet satisfaction in things circling back 'round. I still don't know what horrible thing Jeannie said to Ellen. I still don't know if Mom meant only to silence a squabble or impart advice. Probably both. Therein lies the beauty. Pass it on.
