…does
NOT mean is bothers anyone else.
I
suppose this applies to the Facebook gang more than most, especially
since my online examples will come from that platform. But, this
is more about the way we view the world and our place in it. More
importantly, the idea of how often we forget about others, and
specifically that not everything involves us.
I
had come across a story and I found a couple of the nuances in
it kind of interesting. I knew two people that might find the
ideas expressed interesting as well. So, while on Facebook, I
posted the link and tagged my two friends.
A
short time later, I happened to have a few minutes, so I wandered
over to Facebook to check in for a bit longer and saw I had a
response. But it wasn’t the response I was expecting.
We’re
going to pause for a moment. Sidestep and slightly backtrack.
I want to expand the idea with a fictionalized account of what
had happened, just to give you a bit of a stronger understanding
of what was happening. We’ll use pizza.
Let’s
say I have two friends that absolutely love pizza. (No. I get
it. Everyone loves pizza. In this case though, let’s say my two
friends both own restaurants that serve pizza. Plus, toss in that
I’ve traveled with them, discussed pizza with them, and know that
both of them are fascinated by crust styles and ingredients and
toppings and more. They will argue for hours not just about whether
or not pineapple belongs on a pizza, but invest many lengthy and
separate sessions into different types of pineapple. Fresh and
canned. Chunks and rings. Sauce style used. (Side note: pineapple
does not belong on pizza. Different argument. Different essay.
Worth noting.))
One
day, I’m out and about on the internet, and I happen to see a
story about a place that’s using stones and cornmeal in new ways
with pizza in their wood fire ovens. Article goes into some depth
on the new idea, debates some the general reactions of thick and
thin crusts to the process, and offers some really well-formed
insight as to why gas, wood and coal create the different crust
textures.
I
could have sent it to just them in a direct message, text or even
an e-mail. But I ended up getting so wrapped up by it, I decided
to share it with everyone. I copy the link, include my two friends
to bring it to their attention, and post it.
Later,
when I have some extra time, I decide to check in. Hadn’t really
looked around Facebook in days to see if anything was new with
any of my friends. Also was curious to see if the article had
reached the intended parties.
And
there it was, a comment from someone I hadn’t specifically directed
the post toward:
“Who
cares as long as it’s good?”
Well,
I did. Maybe one friend was considering adding a new stove to
their restaurant and was debating between different styles. Maybe
we had been having an argument over whether cornmeal was really
worth using. There were plenty of reasons why I cared, my friends
likely cared, and even that some other people would care.
Now,
honestly, the pizza gets a bit messy here, because we weren’t
discussing pizza. Because of this, given the topic at hand, I
happen to know that the person that did comment really wasn’t
making an offhand joke. This wasn’t a case of saying if the pizza
is good, just be quiet and enjoy it. He had no interest in what
was being said in the article. He was actually saying the story
in my link was wasted on him, and as a result was a waste. And
that’s what ticked me off.
You
know those pictures and stories you see that make you roll your
eyes? Images of someone else’s breakfast… a person that spotted
Jesus in the ashes of their charcoal grill… politics and religion
and kids and snow and… whatever. Here’s the kicker: Someone was
actually motivated to post them. Someone cared. And just because
the reasons they cared don’t immediately crystalize in your mind
as something that makes sense… just because it seems unimportant
to you… just because isn’t a good enough reason for you to marginalize,
criticize or critique the offering.
And
this goes for a lot of things. I’ve been involved in group conversations
where four or five people were having a lovely time discussing
what we might consider an admittedly lightweight subject. Fun,
casual exchange. And then someone else barges in wondering why
anyone would care enough to waste time talking about it. (Usually
this is followed by that person being alone a lot and wondering
why no one ever calls to extend an invitation to join a party.)
So,
the next time you feel inclined to go after someone else, count
to ten. Believe it or not, when they went to put the pineapple
on it, they may not have been ordering a pizza for you.