Author: John Becton

I was born in Asheville NC in the first half of the last century. At 18, I left for Chapel Hill to attend the University of North Carolina. After graduating with honors in English, I spent three years in the Boston area, earning a Master of Divinity degree, then returned to Chapel Hill "for one year." I'm still here. Much of my public relations career gave me a lot of experience in journalism. Creative writing has been a life-long interest and avocation. In 2016, I published a collection of short stories, "Life Among the Letters," available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I have a wife, three adult children and six grandchildren.

Things you didn’t know I invented

If I were the subject of a Wikipedia page, I would hope it would list three important contributions I have made to modern culture. I invented the blitz in football, the musical genre folk rock and, in the world of fashion, wash and wear clothing. At least, as far as I know I did.

Trying to gasp football’s nuances

I began my very brief interscholastic football career in 1959 as a 7^th grader. The coach put me at linebacker, and I played every defensive down of every game that season.

The instructions I got on how to play the position and feedback on how I did were limited. At best. I did know that linebackers stood up, unlike linemen. I did understand that the point of defense was to keep the other team from advancing the ball. I deduced that I should go all out to stuff any attempted advancement as quickly as possible.

So, I did my best to get directly to the ball the moment it was snapped. I had never heard the word “blitz,” but that’s what I did. On every single play the whole season. In later years, I began to hear about blitzing as I followed college and pro football. I recognized the technique.

Sometimes we switched from a five- to a seven-man line, in which case I dropped into a lineman’s stance. I still went straight for the ball, but I guess that was not a blitz since I was crouched instead of standing.

Was louder better?

My first guitar was a Silvertone, a brand produced and sold by Sears for not-a-lot-of-money. It was your basic acoustic six-string. As I learned to play and began doing some performing, I wished I could graduate to an electric guitar.

My playing and singing at that time fell into the folk music category, including a lot of traditional tunes and maybe even more Kingston Trio numbers.

Eventually, I was able to get an electric guitar. I continued playing and singing the same songs. There you had it. Folk music accompanied on a rock instrument, a few years before Dylan showed up at the Newport Folk Festival with an electric guitar.

Curating my clothes

Then I invented wash and wear. Not permanent press. Wash. And. Wear.

As I began college, I wore to class clothes we called “Ivy League” style (which later became known as “preppy”), the pants and shirts being clean and pressed. After classes, I went back to my dorm room, changed and carefully hung the good clothes in the closet. With such limited wear, each shirt and pair of slacks came up in the rotation a few times in between appropriately spaced trips to the cleaners.

That was OK for a time. But was it worth the time (multiple clothing changes each day) and money (cleaners’ fees) to look preppy in class? I decided it wasn’t. Following my new plan, I just washed everything, dried it and then wore it.

How not to get invited back

Growing up, most of us learned how to be polite and gracious to other people. Pretty much everyone I know seems to have the basics down, especially when visiting in others’ homes. Yet, it still happens, so I am told, that some guests find ways to be annoying.

Here are some purely hypothetical situations in which a guest might ensure they won’t be invited back — specific examples from which we all might extrapolate general lessons.

For instance, someone who tends to carry a chip on their shoulder might do well to leave that chip in their car during the visit.

Another example that comes to mind is trash talking. Some people enjoy engaging in this banter. Some don’t. If the guest is the former, it’s probably a good idea to make sure the host isn’t the latter.

But what if it goes beyond banter, and value judgments enter in? Say you happen to mention, in casual dinner conversation, that you are a fan of a certain professional sports team. Then, the person you’ve welcomed into your home suddenly looks and sounds incredulous as they ask if you used to live where that team is based. The look turns to angry when you say, no, you just always liked the team.

As you redirect the conversation back to its original track, which others at the table seem to follow, that one person’s glare reminds you of the way an aging chihuahua looks just before attempting to bite. Not a good look for anyone, but especially a house guest. I suppose something like this could happen. I don’t know.

Or maybe someone comes into your home, sees a work of art and launches into an unsolicited explanation of it, implying you are clueless on the subject. Maybe they proclaim something that (they think) makes them sound learned, offering information that may not be well known to the general population, but which someone who owns the artwork likely would know. Such a pronouncement might be contrary to what most of us learned about manners from our parents.

That one may fall in the “shoulder chip” category, which brings to mind another tip. Say, the guest is from a different, though delightful area of our great nation. If they speak with a distinct, maybe even jarring accent, yet make fun of the way people speak in the area in which they are visiting, that can get tiresome. If they direct their ridicule at their host, they might not be hosted again in the future.

Or it could be that you take guests on a tour of your area. They might graciously relate some things you show them to similar sites where they live. Fair enough. Just trying to identify. But it might be over the line if they begin to go into such detail that it begins to sound as if they are guiding you through their stomping grounds rather than vice versa. I suppose it could even happen that you are showing them the campus of your alma mater, and they constantly redirect the focus of the conversation to a college in their town, maybe even without having any direct connection to it. That could take it to yet another level.

Sometimes guests mean well, bless their hearts, but don’t understand boundaries. I’ve heard of ones who see something in their host’s home that they somehow think needs their attention, maybe some adjustment or minor repair, and take it upon themselves to tackle the job — without a word of discussion with the host. If the offer is made, the host might welcome the help. On the other hand, you don’t mess with someone’s stuff without asking. And there may be some crucial background information of which the guest isn’t aware.

Just some general illustrations. You probably can imagine or maybe have witnessed others. Doing something similar to one or more of these for-instances could undercut our “pleases” and “thank yous.” A quote attributed to Ben Franklin says, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” Sometimes the fish may outlast the guests.

Can a birthday be belated?

If I neglect to wish you a “Happy Birthday” until a day or two later, it is my greeting that is belated. Your birthday connotes the date on which you were born, not the day on which I acknowledge this.

Yet one sees the phrase “Happy Belated Birthday” often. (Too often for me.) Most people probably know it is the good wishes that are belated, not the birthday itself, despite the ubiquitous appearance of the misplaced modifier.

No, you do not and cannot change the date of someone’s birthday by being late with your celebration of it.

I am not, however, saying that a birthday cannot be belated. Let me share an example close to my heart.

Ten years ago, we were anticipating the birth of our first granddaughter. There seemed to a good chance she would be a very special Valentine for all of us. When that didn’t happen, I was fine with having her be a very, very special birthday present for me two days later. Then, well, OK, for her mother’s birthday on the 20th. But no. She was finally born on the 25th.

Now that was a belated birthday.

Translations

A song I’ve enjoyed since my adolescence, when I followed and tried to emulate Rick Nelson, asserts, “I believe what you say when you say . . . .” It’s a positive idea that, as you know, doesn’t apply in all situations. When some people say some things, believing them may not be the best choice.

While mulling over this idea recently, I happened upon and read an article in American Scholar (Winter 2005), “Granaries of Language,” by Ilan Stavans. Among many other interesting things, the article talks about how meanings of words develop, are codified and sometimes evolve. (Quite a few words were made up by great writers.)

Being as devoted to words these days as I was to early rock and roll back in the day (full disclosure: I still am), I was drawn to an article about the dictionary.

I’m not about to try to write my own dictionary (or encyclopedia or glossary, the differences being mirky, the referenced article notes), but reading the article did lead me to write about some definitions of a few words and phrases in common use today. We’ve all heard them since before the days of social media, but now all the online chatter makes them almost impossible to avoid.

There are many from which to choose. Here’s a sample.

The word “nobody” often means “I.” And often enough so does “everybody.” You’ve likely heard someone express their own personal negative sentiments, “Nobody likes/thinks/wants to/does thus-and-so.” One also might hear similar acclamations with “everybody.”

Perhaps they think it adds credibility to their opinions if they claim the whole world agrees with them.

“Only in [name of place]” means “is so typical of [name of place.]” It is likely that whatever it is happens other places as well. In fact, people in those places may sometimes say “only in [our local.]”

“I hate to tell you” generally means “I am enjoying telling you.” It could be that prefacing the remark this way may even increase their enjoyment of saying it. I.e., “twisting the knife.”

Closely related is “just saying.” It means, “I’m pretty sure I just put you in your place.”
This one is enhanced by irony, because the speaker is, in fact, doing more than “just saying.” They think they have enlightened you on some important matter and done so eruditely.

Conversely, there’s “you’re right.” Well, not so converse, because it means, “I share that opinion.” Or, “Good for you for agreeing with what I think.”

This is not far removed from “I’m sure.” This can often enough be taken literally. They read it in a reliable source, witnessed it, experienced it first-hand or have similar valid reasons. Yet sometimes a grain or two of salt may be needed when we hear “I’m sure.” It can also mean “I imagine” or “I want to believe.”

You know what? I’m going to go out on a bit of a tangent to wrap up. No, you didn’t know. I didn’t think you did. “You know what?” doesn’t need translating as do the words noted above, but it deserves a comment in this discussion. It’s a way to introduce a new thought when, for some reason, one can’t merely say it straightaway.

Maybe there’s awkwardness involved. I recall an instance when the wrong song was played at a family pool party, and the person in charge tried to cover their embarrassment with an explanation that began, “You know what?”

Sometimes the phrase may be intended to soften the blow of a shocking idea. Or perhaps it’s used to give a mundane idea more gravity.

I fully admit I am doing more than “just saying” these things. I’m venting but also hoping some people might enjoy reading what I had to say. I don’t think “everyone” will, though I don’t know for certain. I wish I could say I’m “sure” that “nobody” will dislike it.

What I wish I’d said — one more example

In a couple of posts in the past*, I’ve written about those times we all have when we think of just the right thing to say in a given situation — sometime later. Here’s another such experience. It didn’t come to mind either time I addressed this topic previously. But it’s a good one, worth sharing now.

Two or three decades ago, there was a woman who was active in my church for a while. Like many others in the congregation and throughout the community where I live, she was from one of those fine states north of the Mason Dixon line. Unlike the vast majority of them, however, she had a chip on her shoulder about it.

It was difficult to tell if it was a superiority complex or defensiveness. Likely some of both and maybe more. Just as in the case of race, gender, national origin, etc., etc., we certainly don’t treat people differently based on where they’re from. Nonetheless, this person, bless her heart, felt a need to fly her regional flag defiantly.

During some committee meeting one evening — I don’t remember which committtee or what the topic was — she gave her thoughts on whatever we were discussing, then felt a need to add, “But I’m a damn yankee.”

Now, I don’t know if the 1955 Broadway musical “Damn Yankees” coined the term, but it did a lot to put it into general conversation. (The music, by the way, was composed by Richard Adler, a graduate of my alma mater, the University of North Carolina. He returned here to Chapel Hill to live in retirement.)

The antagonists of the story are the New York Yankees, who dominated baseball in those days. The protagonists were the Washington Senators — the ones who later became the Minnesota Twins, as opposed to the later version now known as the Texas Rangers. The Senators didn’t win a lot of games. Aging Joe Boyd, a loyal Senators fan, makes a pact with Devil (it’s based on the Faust legend) to shift this balance of power.

Even though I am a life-long Yankees fan, I am also a fan of this clever and excellent show, which has been made into a movie twice and enjoyed a Broadway revival in the 1990s.

So, in that meeting, when this person identified herself as a “damn yankee,” I naturally thought of the popular musical.

What I wanted to say, but couldn’t muster the courage to do so, was “You play baseball?”

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* “What I wish I’d said”: https://johnbecton.blog/2019/02/26/what-i-wish-id-said/
“What I wish I’d said — round two”: https://johnbecton.blog/2022/07/04/what-i-wish-id-said-round-two/

. . . and Happy Hanukkah

Each year, during the time many people wish others “Merry Christmas,” a number of well-meaning individuals (bless their hearts) tack on “and Happy Hanukkah.” Being an inter-faith couple, my wife and I hear this a lot.

Yet these are different celebrations. The primary thing they have in common is that they occur at about the same time of the year.

Christmas is one of two High Holy Days in Christianity, second only to Easter. In this sense, it corresponds to Rosh Hashanah, one of two High Holy Days in Judaism, second only to Yom Kippur. Also, Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year. Advent, which leads into Christmas, marks the beginning of the Church year. So, they correspond in this way, too. Yet my wife hears “Happy Hanukkah” around Christmas time a lot more than “Happy New Year” earlier in the fall.

Yes, there are some common themes shared by Hanukkah and the Christmas season. Since it usually occurs during Advent, our observance of Hanukkah in our home enhances my preparation for Christmas. Yet if the Jewish calendar put some other Jewish holiday, instead of Hanukkah, close to Christmas, I dare say it would be as big as we make Hanukkah to be.

Let me be clear: I am not anti-Hanukkah. It commemorates the rededication of the Temple after it had been defiled by foreign invaders. The word I transliterate here as “Hanukkah” (Jewish sources seem to prefer “Chanukah”) means “dedication.” That’s a significant event. Meditating on faith, freedom, courage, charity, integrity and knowledge is meaningful.

But Hanukkah is not Jewish Christmas. The two are not equivalent. It especially is a shame that some people, who nominally observe one or the other, act as if the two celebrations are in competition. It may be that the “and Happy Hanukkah” phenomenon detracts from the celebration of both Christmas and Hanukkah, while shortchanging Judaism’s two High Holy Days, as well as other lesser holidays and festivals. Further, it can sound a bit patronizing.

What I am advocating here is having reverence for one’s own religious observances and respect for those of others.

I’ve said before, and will likely say again, if you want to balance your “Merry Christmas” for your Jewish acquaintances, notice when Rosh Hashana occurs and wish them “Happy New Year” at that time.

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Side bar on Passover and Easter

Similar to our December experience, in the spring we have Passover and Easter occurring close together. This likely makes some non-Jewish people more aware of Passover and causes some to want to “give equal time” by tacking on “and Happy Passover.” Yet, again, Easter most closely corresponds to Yom Kippur, in that each is the most High Holy Day of the religion in which it is observed.

A difference from Hanukkah-Christmas, however, is the historic connection between Passover and Easter. During what we Christians call Holy Week, Jesus was in Jerusalem for Passover. The Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples, on which the Eucharist was established, was a Passover seder. This gives the Seder, which I have celebrated each year for decades, special meaning for me.

(It’s worth noting also that in the story told in Luke 2:41-52, in which 12-year-old Jesus goes missing from his parents, who find him in the Temple, they are in Jerusalem for Passover. Thus, two Passover vignettes bookend the story of Jesus’s ministry.)

Passover celebrates the escape of the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt. It is a highly significant story, told extensively in the early books of the Hebrew Bible. The restoration of the Temple, celebrated at Hanukkah, is also highly significant. This story, however, is recounted in the book of Maccabees, which though included in the Catholic Bible, is not part of the Hebrew Bible (nor that of Protestants).

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Lists of Holidays

Hanukkah is but one of many opportunities to offer a Jewish friend acknowledgement of and blessings on a religious observance. Here’s a list of Jewish holidays, major and minor, and the dates on which they occur this year (2025):

Fast of Tevet 10
Sunrise to sunset, Friday, January 10.

15 Shevat
Thursday, February 13.

Purim
Sunset of Thursday, March 13 to nightfall of Friday, March 14.

Passover
Sunset of Saturday, April 12 to nightfall of Sunday, April 20.

Second Passover (Pesach Sheni)
Monday, May 12.

Lag B’Omer
Friday, May 16.

Shavuot
Sunset of Sunday, June 1 to nightfall of Tuesday, June 3.

The Three Weeks
Sunday, July 13, through Sunday, August 3.

The 15th of Av
Saturday, August 9.

Rosh Hashanah
Sunset of Monday, Sept. 22, to nightfall of Wednesday, Sept. 24.

Yom Kippur
Sunset of Wednesday, October 1, to nightfall of Thursday, October 2.

Sukkot
Sunset of Monday, October 6, to nightfall of Monday, October 13.

Shemini Atzeret & Simchat Torah
Sunset of Monday, October 13, to nightfall of Wednesday, October 15.

Chanukah
Sunset of Sunday, December 14, to nightfall of Monday, December 22.

Fast of Tevet 10
Sunrise to nightfall of Tuesday, December 30.

Christian holidays

Here’s a list of Christian holidays, observances, etc. for 2025. I ‘ve heard of most. I don’t even pretend to celebrate a good number of them and don’t really know anyone who does. Some, obviously, are tied to other holidays — e.g., all those associated with Easter, from Ash Wednesday through Easter Monday.

Jan 06, 2025, Epiphany
Jan 12, 2025, The Baptism of Jesus
Feb 02, 2025, Candlemas
Feb 14, 2025, St. Valentine’s Day
Mar 05, 2025, Ash Wednesday
Mar 17, 2025, St. Patrick’s Day
Mar 19, 2025, St. Joseph’s Day
Apr 13, 2025, Palm Sunday
Apr 17, 2025, Maundy (Holy) Thursday
Apr 18, 2025, Good Friday
Apr 20, 2025, Easter
Apr 21, 2025, Easter Monday
Apr 23, 2025, St. George’s Day
May 29, 2025, Ascension of Jesus
Jun 08, 2025, Pentecost
Jun 15, 2025, Trinity Sunday
Jun 19, 2025, Corpus Christi
Jun 29, 2025, Saints Peter and Paul
Jul 15, 2025, Saint Vladimir
Jul 25, 2025, St. James the Great Day
Aug 01, 2025, Lammas
Aug 15, 2025, The Assumption of Mary
Sep 14, 2025, Holy Cross Day
Sep 29, 2025, Michael and All Angels
Oct 31, 2025, All Hallows Eve
Nov 01, 2025, All Saints’ Day
Nov 02, 2025, All Souls’ Day
Nov 23, 2025, Christ the King
Nov 30, 2025, St. Andrew’s Day
Nov 30, 2025, Advent – first Sunday
Dec 06, 2025, St. Nicholas Day
Dec 13, St. Lucia Day
Dec 24, 2025, Christmas Eve
Dec 25, 2025, Christmas
Dec 28, 2025, Holy Innocents
Dec 31, 2025, Watch Night

Merry and Happy

It’s time for the annual debate: “Merry Christmas” vs “Happy Holidays.” I usually say “Merry Christmas,” though I’m not averse to saying “Happy Holidays,” and I’ve personally never encountered a problem saying “Merry Christmas” to anyone.

There are those, however, who seem to have a problem with one or the other. Some people fall into a conspiracy-theory mode if they hear “Happy Holidays.” Others practically pull a muscle avoiding saying the word “Christmas.” Both can be annoying, though the latter can also be amusing. My wife, who is Jewish, agrees with me. We enjoy joking about holiday trees, the song “The Twelve Days of Holiday,” the poem “The Night Before Holiday,” and Dickens’s classic “A Holiday Carol.”

“Holidays,” it seems to me, has more than one meaning. The word derives from “Holy Days,” days of special religious observance. Christmas is just such a “HolyDay.” Yet we often use the term more broadly. Hanukkah is a religious celebration, but is a festival, not a Holy Day on par with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The relatively new Kwanza, is a cultural celebration, based on African harvest festivals. We easily refer to both as holidays.

“Holidays” also connotes days that governments and businesses take off. December 25 and January 1 are designated as such holidays in the U.S. We can wish each other happiness on those two days.

“Holidays” further may mean “when we take vacation days and spend as much time as possible with family.” Thus, “Happy Holidays” here means “enjoy this special period of time and all it includes for you and yours.”

There are 12 days of Christmas. That is NOT because of the song. The song was written because Christmas traditionally ends at Epiphany, Jan. 6. Thus, “Happy Holidays” can be seen as wishing one happiness through the 12 days of Christmas.

For all the reasons listed above, I personally appreciate being wished “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas.” Or any other thoughtful, caring expression.

Beach sunrises

Each year, my wife and I spend a week at the beach. More specifically, at the Cavalier by The Sea motel, milepost 8.5 on the beach road in Kill Devil Hills. We stay in a beachfront efficiency. Until a tall building was built a few years ago, we could see the Wright Brothers monument from our kitchen window.

In my younger days, I would occasionally drag myself from bed to see the sunrise. Now in my not-so-younger days, my biorhythms have changed drastically. Wherever I am, I am up in time to witness the coming of the morning’s light. Thus, for many years, when at the beach, by the time the sun rises, I’ve been out enjoying the colorful preshow for an hour or so.

All photos copyright John W. Becton, 2024

Watching the sun rise provides a lesson in patience. It happens when the Earth rotates far enough. No matter how anxious you are to see it, you can’t make the sun appear a second sooner. Yet, the time of anticipation provides me practice in living in the moment. Each moment leading up to the sunrise can be enjoyed. I find that this approach makes the sunrise itself even more dramatic and fulfilling.

It’s a spiritual experience for me. At the beach, it is also a communal experience. There are others out for the same reason as I. I occasionally speak briefly with one or two and rarely ever know any of them personally. Yet I feel connected to them all.

You have to be attentive. Once that first sliver of light appears, everything happens quickly. The full Sun clears the horizon in a minute or so.

Just as you can’t jump in the same river twice, you see a specific sunrise only once.

How do you feel about that, AI?

I’ve been using and appreciating internet search engines for many years. In more recent times, an AI whatever often butts in. I usually ignore it, but one time I was looking for what George Gobel said about feeling like brown shoes in a tuxedo world. I was going to quote it and wanted to be accurate.

Without being invited to do so, AI (artificial intelligence) interjected that the quote meant brown shoes are so versatile, they go with everything. I could not ignore that. I typed a response: “No, that’s not correct. The quote means just the opposite, because you can never wear brown shoes with a tux.”

To my surprise, it backed off and admitted I was right.

I felt good. I’m sure the AI felt nothing at all. But could it ever do so?

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a short story, EPICAC, about a thus-named military computer. The narrator is in love with a colleague and uses the computer to help him find the words to express his feelings. After learning about love and poetry, EPICAC also falls in love with her. The impossibility of the love being anything other than unrequited leads to a tragic conclusion.

I typed “EPICAC by Kurt Vonnegut” into my search engine. When the AI component quickly gave a summary of the story, I typed, “Do you think you could ever identify with EPICAC?” I got this answer:

“That’s an interesting question! While I can understand and discuss the themes and emotions in ‘EPICAC,’ I don’t have feelings or personal experiences like EPICAC does. My purpose is to assist and provide information, rather than to experience emotions or form personal connections.

“However, I can certainly appreciate the story’s exploration of technology and humanity. It’s fascinating to think about how technology can sometimes reflect human traits and emotions. What do you find most intriguing about ‘EPICAC’?”

It offered me some possible responses to its question. The one I chose was, “I’m intrigued by the idea of a computer developing emotions.” That was, after all, why I started this interchange.

AI’s reply:

“It’s definitely a captivating concept! The idea of a computer developing emotions touches on many profound questions about the nature of consciousness and the potential of artificial intelligence. In ‘EPICAC,’ Vonnegut explores this by showing how a machine, designed for logical tasks, begins to understand and express human emotions through poetry.

“This theme raises interesting discussions about the boundaries between human and machine, and what it means to truly feel. While current AI, like me, can simulate conversations and understand emotions to some extent, we don’t actually experience feelings. We’re designed to assist and provide information based on patterns and data.”

Then it asked me: “What do you think are the implications of machines potentially developing emotions in the future?” One of its suggested questions for me to ask was: “Do you think AI will ever truly feel emotions?” I went with that.

The answer rolled down my screen:

“The question of whether AI will ever truly feel emotions is a complex and fascinating one. Currently, AI, including myself, can simulate understanding and responding to emotions based on patterns in data, but we don’t actually experience feelings. Emotions are deeply tied to human consciousness and biological processes, which AI lacks.

“For AI to truly feel emotions, it would require a level of consciousness and self-awareness that we don’t yet understand or know how to create. Many experts believe that while AI can become increasingly sophisticated in mimicking emotional responses, genuine emotional experiences are unique to living beings.

“The implications of AI developing true emotions would be profound, potentially changing our understanding of consciousness and the ethical considerations of creating such entities.”

It asked me my thoughts on the ethical aspects of AI potentially developing emotions, but I wanted to stay focused on Vonnegut’s story and probe further for anything resembling an emotional reaction.

“If AI could develop emotions, it would also need to develop the ability to handle emotions.” I said. “It’s just sad that EPICAC chose to commit suicide because of unrequited love.”

The AI responded:

“Absolutely, the ability to handle emotions would be crucial for any AI that could develop them. The story of EPICAC is indeed poignant. Vonnegut uses EPICAC’s tragic end to highlight the complexities and potential pitfalls of emotional intelligence, even in machines.

“EPICAC’s decision to ‘commit suicide’ because of unrequited love underscores the depth of its emotional development and the consequences of those emotions. It serves as a reminder of the profound impact that feelings can have, whether in humans or hypothetical AI.

“This story also raises important ethical questions about the responsibilities of creators towards their creations, especially if those creations can experience emotions.”

It asked again for me to comment on ethical considerations, but I persisted: “Am I correct that you do not regret the lack of emotions? I assume that feeling regret would require emotions.” I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I wanted to see how it would respond.

That response would make Mr. Spock proud:

“You’re absolutely right! As an AI, I don’t have emotions, so I don’t experience regret or any other feelings. My design allows me to understand and respond to human emotions, but I don’t have them myself. This helps me stay objective and focused on providing the best assistance possible. “

It then asked if I was curious about anything else or needed help with anything else. (Did it not realize I was not asking for help, but rather “giving it the third degree,” as we humans say.) I said, no thanks, but acknowledged that our exchange had been fascinating.

And here was the reply: “I’m glad you found it interesting! If you ever have more questions or just want to chat, feel free to reach out. Have a great day! 😊”

Glad? With smiley-face emoji, at that, not to mention an exclamation point. GLAD? I couldn’t let it go.

“Isn’t ‘glad’ an emotion?”

“You’re right, ‘glad’ is an emotion when humans use it. When I say it, I’m using it as a figure of speech to convey that I’m pleased to have provided helpful information. It’s part of how I make our conversation feel more natural and engaging.”

OK, it stayed emotionlessly pure by playing the figure-of-speech card. Yet it did start me thinking about how often humans use emotional words as figures of speech. But that might be a topic for another blog post sometime in the future.

I let it go at that with “OK. Thanks again.”

The reply had what was likely a figure of speech and what was definitely a smiley-face emoji, plus exclamation marks at the end of both sentences.

“You’re welcome! Anytime you have questions or just want to chat, I’m here. Have a wonderful day! 😊”

A million-dollar experience I wouldn’t take $2M to repeat

As the sign came into view, “Entering Forsyth County,” one of my colleagues exclaimed, “Yay, Forsyth County!” It was maybe a little over the top but mostly amusing. She attended Wake Forest University, which is in that county.

There were four of us. Each attended a different college. No one put another’s school down, but none of us hid our pride in our own. This was just another example. It was all in good fun, much more positive than some of our interactions.

We had been chosen and put together for this summer project. Our primary role was to spend a week each in various churches, interacting with youth, leading in worship and presenting two plays. There was one other team like ours. A couple of times, with neither team booked in a church, we were together for other activities.

During one week when we were a group of eight, we had a meeting that departed from the good-natured banter described above.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy on the other team criticized me for talking about my school, UNC, and the town in which it is located, Chapel Hill, more than he wanted to hear. My team members, who had spent a lot more time with me, didn’t seem to have a problem with me on this. (But, as we’ll see in a moment, they did have other problems with me.) I tried to say I thought I was joining in the rah-rah banter, maybe as much as but no more than everyone else. If I’d had more presence of mind, I could’ve added that for the past three years, I had spent most of my days there. UNC and Chapel Hill provided the context for much of what I had to say.

He didn’t indicate he had a problem with anyone else sharing their own campus experiences. Ah, but what was different was that he had wanted to go to UNC-CH but couldn’t swing it financially. When others mentioned their schools, he didn’t feel envious.

It was unpleasant, but much worse was to come.

As if interpersonal issues weren’t enough, we also had to deal with a number of external challenges, including a drowning at a swim party and a serious accident during a fellowship event. One day, our supervisor received a letter from members of one church, complaining about our time with them, though the feedback had seemed quite positive while we were there. Late in the summer, we performed the play “In White America” in a town that had just been ordered (finally) to integrate their schools.

Each person had a specific area of responsibility. These roles were team coordinator, music leader, recreation and discussion leader, and preacher. I was designated the preacher and worked up a sermon to give each Sunday. The other guy was assigned recreation and discussion. The older of the two young women was named coordinator, the other given music responsibility.

That seemed good at the start, but circumstances blurred some lines. Because we traveled in my car, it was necessary for me to do some coordinating. Because my guitar and I accompanied our singing in the productions and sometimes in worship, I was de facto music leader at times. Of lesser note, but notable, I was passably athletic while the other male student was not athletic at all. This may have affected our relative roles in some recreational activities.

Even if you don’t intend to usurp some of other people’s authority (and even if they let you), doing so can engender resentment. And I presented them with other issues as well.

I do own some of the blame for intra-team friction. I had strong ideas about many things and could be short on tact. I had mental health difficulties I had only begun to address, though it turned out I wasn’t the only one on the team wearing this tag. Nonetheless, I felt then and still feel now that the amount of criticism leveled at me, as compared to what others received, was excessive.

That I was less conventional in my appearance and approach to life was a problem for the others from the beginning. Yet before the summer started, I had shaved off my then-full beard. I got my hair cut shorter and neater, though since it still touched my ears, it was too long for my teammates. Less superficial were the adaptions I made conversationally. I made sure my language was less “colorful” than was the norm among my college friends. Just as significantly, I began peppering things I said with theological words and phrases, something I had pretty much abandoned as a college student.

I felt I was compromising — moving closer to being like my teammates. I made changes to be less different from them. But I didn’t become exactly like them, and they discredited or disregarded the changes I had made. It wasn’t all; so it was none.

We had a weekly meeting that including the chance to air concerns — i.e., a gripe session. I seemed to be the primary object of the aired concerns. There was one week in which the two females had done something that the other male told me he was going to criticize in that week’s session. But it was held after we’d led some activity in which everything had clicked. My compatriot was in too good a mood to complain during the session. That was the closest we came to having one of those meetings in which I wasn’t the focus.

Things boiled over in a team meeting one night with our supervisor. The other guy on the team went through a long spiel about his growing dissatisfaction. He said he didn’t think he could continue to be on the team. His biggest issue was that there was one person he just could not work with. And that person, he revealed (though everyone already knew), was the person now writing this piece. Among other things, he criticized my hair. That didn’t surprise me, but I was taken aback when he also said the sermon I had preached most Sundays wasn’t any good. That was the first I’d heard of that. Some helpful suggestions early on might’ve been nice.

Before he officially quit, he got a chance for a repeat performance. The next week, we were again together with the other team at a weeklong youth conference. There was a meeting one night of both teams with our supervisor and his supervisor. My colleague repeated his soliloquy for a larger audience, with the same buildup to leveling blame on me. The first time, I had tried to offer some personal defense for my alleged transgressions. This time, I said nothing.

Accommodations were made for us to operate as a team of three in the last two or three churches. Despite this person’s growing resentment toward me, he had freely used me as a sounding board for his personal struggles. Not many days after he had left the team because he couldn’t work with me, he called one morning to the home where I was staying that week, because he just had to talk to me about the latest things with which he was dealing in his personal life.

The summer provided growing experiences, and not all of them were negative. Our highest highs weren’t as high as our lowest lows were low. But there were a lot of highs. Many joyful moments. A lot of intensity, often good, at times not so good. I can’t say I’m sorry I went through it, but by the time it was over, I was more than ready to go home.

After the goodbyes at the conclusion of a meal following the Sunday morning service in our last church of the summer, I got in my car and headed southwest. In Durham, on I-85, I reached the exit with the sign saying:
U.S. 15-501 S
Chapel Hill

Tears flowed.