Mom in the Mirror

Gossip oversimplifies, damages all involved

Have you ever met someone and thought, "He's not at all what I expected"?

It happens to me all the time, in large part because I work in an industry -- journalism -- where gossip is the air we breathe.

I form opinions about people I know, people I meet, people I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, and everyone else. And I often form those opinions based on the opinions of others, something called hearsay in a court of law, which objects to it.

Some religions also object to gossip, which creates a virtual person that is often unrelated to the real one, producing a discrepancy that damages all involved.

And it isn't just negative information that some religions outlaw; the prohibitions apply to gossip about the good stuff, too. If your enemy finds out from your friend that you just won the lottery, your friend could be unintentionally fanning the flames of resentment. And what if a thief overhears? Then the danger is more immediate and practical.

The ethical dilemmas multiply. What if the person sitting next to you learns that you're being fired before you know? How is he supposed to handle that information if he cares about you? And what if he doesn't?

To me, gossip is a little bit like looking over your shoulder to see where the competition is instead of focusing on the finish line. And it contains the same risk: You may fall flat on your face.

So, why do we gossip? I think we gossip sometimes to avoid the courage of our convictions. Attribution is absolution. If you can provide a source for your information, you've avoided responsibility and saved your neck, even if you don't say who your source is (many a journalist has proven this point from the discomfort of a jail cell).

Sometimes gossip is a way of sharing uncomfortable information. If Aunt Sophie, who is a nosy snoop, whispers in your ear, "Just between you and me, I think Jeremy's been hitting the bottle," she's avoiding a serious conversation. If Jeremy's teenage daughter says to you, "I'm afraid my dad's been drinking," she starts one.

Is he or isn't he? Sometimes we feel absolutely driven to know, as if it is our business. Let's pretend for a moment that Jeremy is an alcoholic, and that there are many layers to his life: A tortured soul, a tormented family, a drunken driving accident that kills another family's child. Who can tell his story, or even imagine it, without more than the tidbits gossip provides?

And is that all Jeremy is? No. Gossip simplifies.

Gossip allows us to make up our minds and move on to the next subject, without respecting the complexities of the people or situations involved. It denies the reality that the next bit of information we learn could change everything ("Oh, you mean Jeremy was just covering for his wife?!"), even though it often does.

There are many things I believe in, and fewer that I know to be true, but this is one: Gossip is a window into the soul of the speaker, but only clouds your vision of others.

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.

Fighting the three-headed monster

Long before we were married -- back when my husband and I were just friendly co-workers -- he revealed to me the secret of video production. He said, "You can get it good, fast or cheap. Pick any two."

He was right when it came to videos, and I'm starting to think the rule applies to life as well.

Not too long after he shared this insight with me, we started dating. We lived good and fast for a while, and it was really expensive. We ate dinner out every night, took frequent trips to the beach and mountains and points in between, and bought whatever part of the good life was for sale.

Then, we got lucky. We didn't have to invest a lot of time or upfront money in what we wanted next: A baby.

We knew our lives would change when our son was born, but I wasn't ready to give up on the idea of having everything all at once. I struggled for years -- almost six of them, now -- to balance work, family and finances, with few role models.

I have friends who are stay-at-home moms and manage to live with limited means so that they can create the kinds of families they want, giving up exciting jobs in the process. I have friends who spend hours at work earning good money, in search of the kind of satisfaction that creating your own family can bring.

And still, every day, I struggle with this three-headed monster. Some days are good, fast ones when I burn with enthusiasm, like a firecracker that flames out quickly. Other days are slow and worth savoring, but costly.

My husband has become particularly gifted at this juggling act. He has created a career for himself that allows him to be our son's chauffeur, short-order cook and playmate, and still do what he loves. And he has trained his clients to expect that.

Recently I listened to our phone messages and heard one of his favorite regulars say, "We want you March 9 and 10, April 14 and 15, and April 19th and 20th. I wanted to talk to you early about these dates so we could accommodate Colter's birthday."

Colter is our son. And my husband's client was actually arranging his production schedule around our son's birthday, so we could spend it together as a family. He knew my husband would agree to no less.

My husband is a very slow and steady sort (a good balance for me) and was willing to forego building his career quickly in order to craft it exactly the way he wanted. I've changed jobs (but not companies) just about every two years, rising more quickly than some but at the expense of our early life together as a family.

While my husband was home for our son's first words and first steps, I was working. Now that our son is in school, I can pause a bit, enjoy the view, and appreciate that we can afford his kindergarten tuition.

I have come to accept that life's resources are limited and happiness is fleeting, and that the good times last as long as the bad, even though it never feels that way.

Life can be short and feel long, or be long and feel short. Either way, you pay the price.

This LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.