Sometimes I pick silence, but it's getting rare

Silence has it's advantages.

As Abraham Lincoln once said, "Better to remain silent and be thought of a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt."

I consider Honest Abe a pretty smart guy, and his words resonate more than a century later. Silence is often the most viable option.

But I'm finding it increasingly difficult to remain silent. Age? Perhaps.

After more than 15 years in the newspaper business, I'm used to controversy, and particularly, insults. Nary a week goes by that I don't hear from a too-honest reader who finds it necessary to tell me the newspaper is bad, or cuts down the job we do. It isn't easy to hear, and especially difficult when you believe that person is misguided in their opinion.

And once upon a time, I used to just push my lips together, nod my head and wear an often too fake smile while steaming within. And sometimes, just sometimes, I still do. Catch me in an off mood, however, and you're probably in for it. I won't raise my voice or be rude, but I may disagree.

I figure that if you have a right to an opinion, then I am allowed my own. I used to think that being a public figure meant that I had to take abuse from the public. And for a part, I still think that's the case. I do believe I have to listen, but nothing says I must remain silent.

But, very recently, I found myself facing a dilemma. A man I know has been quite confrontational to me twice, to the point that he's downright insulting, and to top it off, he was misguided in both instances. Without going into details, I defended myself calmly in both instances, but I'll admit the situations have left me fuming. What gives him the right to jump my case, without getting the facts first? But I think what upsets me more is that both times I let him. In other words, I mostly remained silent.

But it makes me wonder if silence is always the best medicine?

I don't think it is.

Sometimes I think it's imperative that you put your foot down and stand your ground. But Josh Billings wisely noted that silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute.

And, really, who am I to argue with that?

I am smart

My niece posted on Facebook the other day that the fly of her jeans reads, "Lucky you."

I'm not so out of touch that I don't know that those jeans are Lucky brand jeans and they cost a lot of money. I've had a few pairs, back in the days when I wasn't buying jeans for six people.

And this is probably too much information for one blog, but while using the restroom a few days later, I noticed there's a label on the inside of my dress pants that reads, "I am smart."

Forget the fact that I was in the restroom, and stop and think about that for a minute.

I wonder how different would our world be if the inside of a girl's pants said, "I am smart," instead of "Lucky you."

Hmmmm ...

One smart cookie

My children all developed in the same womb, and as much as they are alike in many ways, their differences are numerous.

Take school, for example.

Jacob is my floater. Smart as a whip, his mind works in wondrous ways. You can almost see the gears turning, yet he floats ... Sometimes I wonder if he would register if we tested his blood pressure. He's not much of a go-getter and effort isn't his strong suit. If he put 100 percent into school, it's amazing what he could do. Instead, he puts in 10 percent -- on a good day, he might hit 20. It's been a frustrating experience, as we try to get him interested in education. He needs organization, responsibility and a little more drive. They're qualities he must attain by himself; we can only push him in the right direction. We're still trying ...

Lucas is an amazing little person to watch. He faced developmental and speech barriers that made the past five years more than difficult. We fought for him and pushed. We didn't need to. He's a fighter, a pusher and a go-getter. He doesn't like school. He'd rather just play. But Lucas does everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, at 110 percent. So, he figures if he has to go to school, then he'll put in his best effort. That means a kid who was near failing and almost held back in first grade is now cranking out an A+ in spelling, A- in math, B in reading and C in language arts. Don't believe me? Try giving him a spelling test. If he gets one wrong, he wants to go back through the entire list all over again until he gets every single one correct. I need a fraction of his drive ...

And then there's Alex. I sent Alex to school a year earlier than I normally would've. He was a fresh and eager 5-year-old. Wasn't sure if he was ready. He didn't score very high on his kindergarten test, and I was worried. Why I worry so much, I'll never know. He's taken to school like a duck to water. He loves to read. He loves to learn. He spells words in his spare time for crying outloud. And just last night, he wrote his first sentence using his sight words. Sitting at the kitchen table, he wrote, "We go to my mom's," on a teeny, tiny sheet of notebook paper. Sure the words were stacked on top of each other like blocks, but he did it all by himself. And I just beamed ...

Now, I wonder what Emery has in store for us ...

Each came from the same place. They had the same start, similar experiences and caring parents. Yet, each is amazingly different. And I'm blessed that I get to watch, document and actively participate in their lives. Thank you, God.

I'm not me without you

Do you ever wonder how Adam and Eve managed in the Garden of Eden? It's not like she could get mad at Adam and go sleep at her mother's house. And he certainly couldn't "cool off" for a few minutes by heading to the garage to dawdle. They were stuck with one another, and outside of the benefit of having God's ear, they only had to deal with a pesky asp.

(This picture was taken of us shortly after we began dating in March of 2008.)

But life was simpler then. There were no blended families, bad progress reports or in-laws to cause marital strife -- just an apple which, granted, was bad enough.

A dear friend told me Tuesday night that no marriage is perfect. You have good times, and you have bad times. You just hope the good outweighs the bad. True enough. But I think I'd add to it because marriage just isn't that simple.

Two people, with God's grace and his definite intervention, manage to find one another. You fall in lust, then love. You become the best of friends, and decide that you must spend the rest of your lives together. And, hopefully, you do. But, as I know all too well, sometimes you don't. Alas, another column for another time.

But along the way, you hit speed bumps. Back to that asp. It'll jump up and bite you. You've got to be stronger. And realize that simply you're not you without that other person in your life.

Marriage is about give and take. It requires trust, respect and admiration. You must love that person as an extension of yourself, taking with that the good, the best, the worst and the ugly. You must compliment her, and let her know that she's the most beautiful, wonderful person you've ever known. If you don't, someone else will. You must respect him, and show him that respect. If you don't, he'll feel defeated. You must make mutual decisions and consult one another on every major decision, especially when it comes to rearing the wee ones. You must set mutual goals and walk toward those together, hand in hand. You must not insult, or speak without thinking. You can't hurt the other, or lose their trust and respect.

And, most importantly, you must enjoy one another completely. Have fun together. Take a walk, again hand in hand, and share smiles. Laugh often. Laugh at yourselves and laugh just because you're happy.

Do we always do these things? Most of us probably don't. And I'll be the first to admit that I don't do it enough, but I should. What I do know is that I'm not me without Henry. And it doesn't take an apple for me to figure that out.