by Charlotte Hinger
Years ago, a lady I think the world of--a dear, dear friend, a native Kansan like me, scolded me after a talk I had given. She said "You really don't like Kansas, much, do you." I was dumbfounded and stricken with remorse. What had I said that gave her that impression?
Anyone who knows me and reads my books knows I'm plumb silly about my native state. I've always loved Kansas.
In fact, when I was in the fourth grade and a little girl moved to town from Oklahoma, I greeted her with infinite compassion because she would never be quite right. She would never be a little sunflower. She had not been born in Kansas! The poor little thing.
After my talk when I was so obviously distressed, another friend told me "Charlotte, not everyone gets your sense of humor."
A light bulb went off. I changed. My correcting friend was right. Humor can easily be misunderstood.
I became much more circumspect about my presentations. Talks are a two-way interchange. Individuals attending can easily be distracted. All it takes is fumbling for a dropped program, a waitperson coming around with the coffee pot, a delayed urge to use the rest room and phoof! There goes the wittiest punch line since the Marx brothers made their debut.
For that matter, late arrivals often miss the whole point of a carefully structured lecture. Cell phones ring at the most opportune times.
I've also become aware of how lines taken out of context can be miscontrued. Is there anyone today who is not conscious of the importance of political correctness? Woe to the naive speaker who uses the wrong word when referring to an ethnic group.
And while I have your attention:
What does a Kansan do when he wins the lottery?
He buys a second tractor.
That's all folks!
