Long ago, in the Dark Ages of 1967, Aretha Franklin released what would soon be the classic song "Respect." This is a song about a woman putting up with the philandering of her husband(?) and clearly has nothing to do with the subject matter of this blog. On the other hand, it's a really good song,
Respect is something that we all seek. We all want our worth validated. Generally, we know that respect is earned and not just freely given. We earn this respect by the way we treat others, the work we do, and the lives we lead. Unless you're a narcissist (and we know of one prominent narcissist and we don't want to be HIM!) each of us knows when we're respected, and when we're not.
But in general, most of don't even give it a thought as we go about our daily lives. We know that some people like and value us, some people don't like or value us, and the vast majority of people we see don't care one way or the other. So the according of respect is a personal thing, the result of direct interaction between people.
Given that we all have too much to do than single out the worst bits of grade school, dwelling on whether the cool kids like us or not, we don't give our position in life a thought. That is until we are directly, and unexpectedly reminded of the impact we have on others.
This past Thanksgiving week, I had two people independently reach out to me, one by email and the other via social media. I'd like to recount these two instances, while hopefully not sounding like a self-centered clown, to make a larger point. I will not name these folks for fear of possible embarrassment but to them let me say "Thank YOU!". If they read this, they know who they are - and so do I.
1. The first came from a former client who engaged me to establish a business structure and apply to the IRS for tax exempt status. During my legal career I've done a lot of these, numbering in triple digits. I may not be the best lawyer since Oliver Wendel Holmes, but in this area, I've got game.
Let me say here that nothing in the law is "cookie-cutter." Because individuals are different, the law applies, if ever so slightly, singularly to their individual situations. But because I've done so many of these IRS applications, I know the basic questions to ask, I know what I need to know, and I know enough to fill in the gaps of missing information.
This client, if he was successful, had a great plan that could assist others in the Rhode Island community. Because my former organization's mission was, and my personal mission remains, to assist those with a good idea, a smart plan, and sincere desire to help others, I was flattered that he asked me for assistance.
Three years later, after he received his tax exempt designation, he emailed me on Thanksgiving eve to let me know about his successes. He's growing his organization and will help even more people in need. This man's vision and dedicated effort is exactly what the Rhode Island community needs.
At the end of his email he told me that none of this would be possible save for my efforts on his behalf. This blew me away. I have never been told something like this. Sure I've received thanks from clients and appreciate all of them. But this? I'm still blown away.
I want to be clear. Some attorneys are show horses, others are work horses. Some attorneys think they can part to sea, others are drowned in the in wake of the sea closing. I'm the latter, I'm a work horse. I just try to do the best job I can for my clients. I do not believe I'm unique, most attorneys work hard for their clients. And most attorneys don't seek the limelight, or advertise on television or the internet. When all is said and done, I'm a worker bee.
So it was with shock and wonderment that I received this email. I thanked him for sending it to me, but had to tell him that any success he had was his. He was the visionary, I was the technician. And as the technician, I was only too glad to help.
So to him, I say thank you my friend. You have no idea how grateful I am to hear from you and how pleased I am for your success.
2. If anyone thinks that being a lawyer is tough, try teaching in a high school. For more than a decade, I taught social studies in a high school. High school, a place where on some days administrators, teachers, and most often students would describe as Dante's fifth level of hell.
Damn, I loved it. The interaction with the kids, the challenge of imparting important (debatable) information/knowledge to kids who largely didn't want it (non-debatable). The group dynamic of putting 25-30 kids in a classroom, the scheduler's experiment in spontaneous combustion. The daily jazz tempered only by occasional drudgery.
I remember when studying for my teaching certificate one of the professors admonished us to never show emotion, never let the students see whether you're happy, sad, mad, sick or anything else. I guess she was into robotics before robotics was cool.
I made up my mind there and then to discard that nonsense. Each student was a unique human. The least I could do was to give each of them the respect of knowing that their teacher was as human as they are, complete with the array of daily pressures and challenges that each of us shares.
Call it a "shared humanity." Teaching is not a science (flying in the face of current pedagogic theory) but is instead an art. Every class is different, and every kid in class is different. You can't robot your way through that challenge. Only by reaching out and listening to them could I ever hope to communicate with them.
I don't know how good a teacher I was, that's for others to say. Some might say I was a jerk, others might say I was good, and still others would probably say "who was that guy?" The human condition summed up in 50 minute increments, five days a week.
Since I left teaching and commenced on my legal career I was able to keep in touch with some of my former students through social media. Some would "friend" me, others I would "friend." I tried to be judicious in my "friending" because, let's face it, who wants to hear from their old teacher?
I recently caught up with one of my former students, or she caught up with me, who remembers which was which? I remember her as a bright student (maybe too bright for the school she was in) and she remembered that sometimes I told Woody Allen jokes in my lessons. Over the past year, we started following each other, sometimes briefly corresponding with one another. I would "like" some her posts and she mine.
So it was with great surprise that on one of our shared social media platforms she posted a big block post that went something like, "My friend (Mr.) Geoffrey Schoos spent his life in service to others. Buy his book!"
All these years later and she couldn't refrain from dropping the "Mr." on me. I have no idea if she read the book (my guess is that she did) or just wanted to do something very nice for me. But her post was a great and much appreciated gift.
Being a genuine person, acknowledging the basic humanity of others, is impactful and can come back to you in many unexpected and surprising ways. If John, Paul, George and Ringo were correct when they sang, "And in the end, the love you get is equal to the love you give..." then the same holds true for respect.
So to her I say Thank You! I cannot express how grateful I am for what you did and for remembering me.
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These are two vignettes about respect we too often fail to show to others. It's too easy to (mis)categorize others by some outward attribute or condition. We don't bother to get to know one another. We too often demonize others because of some trait, gender, skin color, religion, or economic status. As a result we become divisive, demeaning, and dismissive.
Each of us are subject to random acts that impact our lives - an auto accident, a disease, a lost job. We are all subject to mistaken actions that have root in imperfect information. Millions are cast to the margins of society because they were victims of their own decisions or the randomness of life. There is no respect for those at the margins. The author Michael Harrington called people at the margins "invisible," we don't see them so we don't get to know them. Because we don't get to know them, it's easier to demonize them and invalidate their basic humanity as they go through their struggles - sometimes more publicly than others - as we do ours.
In the final analysis we're all human. We are subject to all of life's random events. We are all subject to the classification and categorization others assign us. We are all subject to the whimsy and fragility of life.
My plea for this holiday season is to remember that we're all human, each of us possessing marvelous gifts and deep flaws. We all bleed the same blood, breathe the same air, and try to do our best in often trying conditions. Let us resolve to get to know one another, especially those at the margins, and remember that we all inhabit this shrinking mortal coil and are subject to the same vagaries of life.
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