Small Things Count

Roger Zelazny’s quote (yesterday’s Thursday Thought)  got me thinking about words and their effect. Including how they’ve touched me and my friends.  Here are my thoughts on the matter:

Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me is a silly childhood chant.  When we grow up, we stop calling people names.  Or do we?  Hurtful names have crept into our everyday language and are so common that people don’t notice, except those people who are affected.  Call me over-sensitive, but as someone who has a physical disability, I’m offended when I hear a stupid act referred to as “lame.”  My friend has a similar reaction when that same act is called “gay.”  And the person doing the act?  He’s “so retarded.”  An unexplainable or seemingly strange action is “schtzy,” “psycho,” or “manic depressive.”  We talk about  the poor as “less fortunate” or “them,” somehow different from—and not as good as—us, and we call others “illegals,” stripping them of flesh and blood.  If we think before we speak, we can shred the sticks and crumble the stones that so often bruise us and return the dignity of humanity to others and ourselves.