Last week I was approached by a reader. Experience has taught me to brace for impact. I do my best to avoid controversial issues not for lack of opinion but for lack of places to hide as small island towns are not known for an abundance of anonymity, lest I prefer a blanket of marsh grass.
Having written my opinion before and subsequently been accosted in the frozen foods section of Publix, staying on neutral ground is my specialty, in print, not necessarily in real life.
There is usually a warning signal, an impressive pronunciation of my name, a newspaper tucked underneath an arm, or a look of disapproving consternation. The walking speed alerted me to prepare to take a phone call from no one or feign a sudden injury. Considering I am close to running out of sudden injuries, my phone was inconveniently out of reach, and running through a wall is not on my list of favorite things to do, I stood still in anticipation of taking my medicine.
He began with ominous pleasantries and, in good fashion, got right to the point. Incurable boredom or long stints in unimaginatively painted waiting rooms led him to read not one but seemingly many of my articles. A few were entertaining, he admitted, but left him intellectually unsatisfied.
Generously endorsing me as having decent potential, he questioned my subject matter. My mundane musings of the endless enlightenment that is imperfectly everyday life offered nothing more than a source of grave disappointment.
Occasionally enjoying conversations with strangers over my lackluster skill or failure to utilize my platform for more contentious, emotionally evocative issues, I did have growing grass to watch. Nevertheless, his passionate decree did have my attention. Is it the current atmosphere of our society that encourages a need for argument or my lack of arousing pontification that causes the need for complaint? His opinion made me think, and not just about a method of escape.
Every day we are immersed in an avalanche of adversity, the opportunity to disagree is plentiful, and the mind has no shortage of dread. It is by choice I avoid the crowded arena of controversy.
My writing about the lighter side of life delves into the peculiarities that kindly remind us that we possibly have more in common than what drives us apart. To a weary world in need of something, sometimes the normalcy of nothing is best.
Cherimie Crane Weatherford is the owner/founder of SugarBelle, a long-time real estate broker and a lover of the obscurities of southern culture. To contact her with praise and adoration, email CCWIslandNews@ gmail.com. To complain, call your local representative.