On the whole, Wendell (not his real name) was a nice guy. He had good morals, was kind to his family and neighbors, worked hard, had tremendous brain power and many other admirable qualities.
We were on a couple college faculty committees together, and about once a month we had to attend an out-of-town meeting. Wendell always wanted to drive, which was fine with me.
The trouble was he could not quit talking. Plus the only topic of this perpetual monologue was himself. Do you remember that beer commercial that featured the “most interesting man in the world”? That was Wendell, or at least he thought so.
To keep from turning his nose to 12, I played a bit of a mind-game. I would start a conversation about something and, within two sentences, he not only interrupted and took over, but made the topic into something about him. Fortunately, I was not his only victim.
Even so, he talked so much, trying to sound like an expert on every single topic, that I learned how to tune him out. Periodically, I would say “Oh,” or give a noncommittal grunt just to be polite. I think it only to encourage him because he thought I was hanging on every word.
Behind his back, people called him “Professor Personal Pronoun.” My guess is you have someone like him in your life, and you have my sympathy.
Wendell has been gone for quite a few years and I sort of miss him. I thought of him the other night when I read that President Trump was busy sending well over 100 messages to his Truth Social media platform, as well as to other individuals and platforms.
I am astounded at his stamina. He apparently works well into the night, sending these messages. During the day, when he is not exercising his fingers on the keyboard, he talks. A lot, and on almost any possible subject.
The thing is, Trump is a lot like my late friend Wendell. I can’t help but wonder if his cabinet members feel the same way about him. I feel sorry for them because their job depends on looking fully attentive, then responding with words of praise. That has to be hard on them when they attend the hours-long meetings.
Over the past two-plus centuries we have had some gentle and humble Presidents who did not constantly have to advertise themselves.
For example, William McKinley, then Ohio governor, one evening heard children singing carols outside the front door, opened it and listened to them sing. Back then it was traditional for homeowners to give carolers some coins.
The future president did more than that. He invited the children in, got their names and addresses, and sent them Christmas cards inviting them to return on a certain night. They did, and he and Mrs. McKinley treated them to refreshment and gave each child a present they had wrapped themselves. He truly cared about the poor.
Then there was President Harry Truman, who was not popular and didn’t care. Early in his administration, while inspecting an army base, he learned that it was also a POW camp for German prisoners. He wanted to see it, but others tried to dissuade him, claiming it was too dangerous.
Truman pulled rank as Commander in Chief and went in to see them. Before long they were having conversations, one former soldier to another. The prisoners were astounded because their officers and Hitler had treated them like barnyard organic matter.
More recently, it was Michigan’s own President Gerald and Betty Ford. One Christmas Eve when many of his staff were working late, the Fords invited them to come up to their private quarters.
A buffet was laid out for them in appreciation for their work and acknowledgement many were missing out on family events. The Fords went from room to room, talking with every guest, saying thank you and shaking hands.
Those very tangible gestures are exactly the theme found in Dale Carnegie’s book “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” It may be the most important book written in the last century and we need to apply to this century. Even if I don’t apply it nearly enough, I have made a point of reading it every January.
There is now a sequel on how to win friends and influence people in the digital age. My late wife Pat gave me a copy a few years ago and it is my February book.
I have decided to take a sabbatical from President Trump. I can’t keep up with him and I’ve given up trying. I’m justifying it from advice author C.S. Lewis gave to a friend who wanted to know what news magazine or paper he should read. Lewis said don’t bother, because if something truly important happened someone would be sure to tell him.
I am taking Lewis’ advice to heart because I can’t keep up with Trump when he sends a blast one minute about how the NCAA should not schedule any other football games at the same time Army and Navy play, or trying to organize the Super Bowl halftime show. Even if he hasn’t got anything better to do (and I think he probably does), I do.
Besides, much of what he is saying or tweeting is irrelevant to my life. Irrelevant that is, until he starts hurting people and then it really is our business.
