At a high school basketball game concession stand at the age of 4

Growing up in the midwest wasn’t that bad.  I think we all look back and see the goods and bads of our childhood.  People who have a negative bent probably believe there childhood sucked and people with a more positive outlook on life probably believe theres was all good.  Of course it could and has been argued that people have a positive or negative bent because of there childhood, but I digress.

One of the more interesting things about growing up in the midwest was the conversation.  While in New England, politics tends to be the conversation of choice, in the midwest, that distinction belongs to sports.

“Hey, how are ya?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Good thanks.” (I’m pretty sure in the midwest it’s illegal to let someone know you’re having a bad day)  “see the game last night?”

And we’re off.  The person could have been talking about high school, college or pro sports, it doesn’t matter.  It’s the default conversation piece, and it’s much easier than talking about the fact that my marriage is falling apart, or I’m in debt over my head because of the large screen TV I just leased with astronomical interest or I lay in bed every night crying wondering if my life has any purpose.  Nope, just good clean sports, and it takes all chances of sharing our real problems away.  Why would someone want to hear about what I’m going through when we could talk about the freakin fastest 6’9″ guy on the planet – Lebron James.

So I learned a bad habit I’ve tried to break for the better part of my life.  Out of church, I talk about sports.  In church is where we talk about spiritual things.

Of course, we could talk about how stupid our pastor is, and all the mistakes he makes too.

Yeah, that could take some of the pain away!

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There was a time I needed the last word.  Had to have it.  Arguments and debates made up part of my life and I loved to go back and forth for the purpose of being right.  Now, no one who likes to debate would tell you that.  You almost need to be on the other side of it to say it out loud, but the need for the last word, even now, sometimes attempts to control my spirit, causing me to get in that one final statement that I know will be heard, and will make my point proved.

This is why I like blogging.  I can have the first word, and allow everyone else to chime in on their thoughts, very rarely imposing on their take on what I’ve written (with the exception of their biased comments on football – Crap, this was an example of the last word).  This makes for great partial community among those who choose to share their voice.

But beware of the need for the last word, spoken or written.  It is a sign of immaturity.  The last word speaks volumes about your self control and your ability to discern whether the point of your conversation is to be right or to get right.

There is a huge difference.

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