I wrote another column for Thursday's paper, but during the day, a little piece of mail came in to the paper via the Interwebs.
A piece of hate mail.
For me.
And we published it. It's the second one down.
Now, I read his letter, and it made me mad.
Not just mad, I should say... Furious.
It was 1:30 a.m. at the paper, I'd just finished putting the paper online and I took some time to read the letter, and it made me so mad, I sat down at my computer and started typing a rebuttal column.
An hour later, I was mostly finished. I spent a lot of today tweaking it. I'm going to submit it to the paper next week, but it's really long, too long for the paper, so I'll have to cut it down some.
But you, dear valued reader, you can now read it here...
***Okay. I’m sorry.
Apparently, I’ve gone and stepped on some toes. What I wrote was so offensive, that the most apathetic of them all, a college student (and I feel safe in calling us apathetic, seeing as how we kind of are) wrote in a vitriolic letter decrying my nice guy column.
My bad.
I’m sorry that I’ve written a series of what I like to hope are “feel-good” columns, because day in and day out, as a journalist, all I hear about and have to relate to people is bad news. I figured people might want to read something a little lighter on the opinions page instead of politics. I’m not saying politics aren’t fascinating, but they still can have the same effect as repeated bashing of your head against the wall. I was trying to mix it up a little and bring something positive to the readers.
I guess that’s where I went wrong. My apologies.
It doesn’t stop there, though. Apparently, my choice of words and the fact that I didn’t rush to the shelf for a thesaurus have also ended me up in hot water. I wonder if there’s a circle of Hell for people who use the word “nice” too much as my disgruntled reader made it sound, because I’m surely destined for there. I feel like I should go and apologize to every English teacher and professor I’ve ever had. I simply thought that by keeping the familiar phrase intact, I would keep things simple and light and not make it seem like I was trying to impress people with my highfalutin vocabulary.
Mea culpa (that’s Latin for “my fault,” by the way).
I’m also sorry for being vague. Yes, I’m a part of society. No, I’m not Mr. Nice Guy himself. I don’t recall ever saying or even alluding to myself as such, but apparently that’s the unspoken message I was broadcasting.
Please forgive me.
Here’s a news flash for him and anyone who might have gotten the wrong idea about me: I don’t count myself among the “nice guys.” I’m a guy who simply wants to be a better person, and the active word in that sentence is “better.” This is not a destination, but is instead a road I’m traveling. I forget to hold doors open for people, I don’t always yield the right of way when I’m driving and I can be the world’s biggest jerk at times. I’m not perfect and I’m not proud of that fact. I simply am who I am and I make no excuses for that.
I also do not compromise on my ideals, Notice, above I apologized for the way my words were perceived and interpreted. I never said I was wrong. I absolutely disagree with him that I am 100 years too late and I feel that by having said that, he has proved every word of my column to be absolutely correct.
What was that about iPods and cell phones? When did technology remove the need for civility and – heaven forbid – kindness? When did we enter the age of “I don’t care?” I don’t recall getting that memo. As far as I’m concerned, people are the same as they’ve always been, and if he’s read some of my other “pity-party” columns (as he implied he has), he’d be familiar with my belief that people do not change, but rather that we learn new things and we forget old things.
The thrust of my article was that we have forgotten some old things we never should have forgotten. Look back in the archives of the newspapers and see. Do you read about many cases of road rage? Look in the old Westerns and see. Whenever a fight breaks out, was it because two guys were showering each other with niceness? I think we have a lot to relearn about the way things used to be.
I’m sorry that he thinks I’m wearing “nice guy blinders.” I think he’s taken a surface impression of me and made up his mind about me based on that. I’m sorry to have to tell him that he’s dead wrong. I don’t wear nice guy blinders.
I’ve stood outside an emergency room while a source of mine, someone I knew only professionally, was having emergency brain surgery. I didn’t wait there because I had to. I did it because I wanted to, because I was concerned with their well-being. Some people might call it foolish. The appreciation on her face when she next saw me, having learned of my concern for her, told me otherwise.
I’ve sat and listened to a person describe how they were the victim of a horrific violent crime, wondering how anyone could ever do that to a fellow human being. I did my best to be sympathetic, to be supportive, because I felt it was the right thing to do as a person, not just as a journalist. Some might say I was wasting my energy. The fact that she is now one of my closest friends tells me otherwise.
Every day I see and hear and experience more things that convince me that I’m doing the right thing by trying to be as nice a guy as possible. Every day I hear about murders, rapes, assaults, etc., and as a reporter, I have been unfortunate enough to have to learn more about these things than I ever wanted to know. I don’t regret doing this, because hopefully along the way, I was able to help someone by doing my job, informing them, helping them understand something relevant to them so they could protect themselves.
I’ve seen these things, and I’m sure as part of my career I will see many more terrible things that will haunt my waking hours – to say nothing of my dreams – for the rest of my life. Because of all those terrible things, past, present and yet to come, I will always try my best to be Mr. Nice Guy. I will try to make a difference, and I will do so proudly. I may not succeed, but at least I will have tried.
They say, “It’s the thought that counts.” It’s a trite phrase too, but it’s one I believe in.
Still, at the end of all this, I have to say I get a little satisfaction. It sounds like he read my whole column, even though he didn’t like it, which means my goal to have someone read it was fulfilled.
He would read the whole thing before writing a letter bashing it (and me), right?
Well, either way, I’m glad. Hopefully there’ll be many more down the road for him to read.
***
