Loving Loudly
I visited my oldest daughter in Pittsburgh last week. She’s a student at Carnegie Mellon, working on her PhD in Neuroscience. She has a penchant for math and science that did not come from me. I play with words for a living. She plays with the brain and nervous system. She’s so much smarter than I am, it makes my head spin.
And I love that. It’s what every parent wants for her child and exactly how it should be.
Years ago, I bought her a print to hang in her room. She was about ten at the time. Today she’s 23, and it still hangs in her room; it’s the only thing familiar between the house she grew up in and the one she now shares with four grad students. It says:
“There has never been a day when I have not been proud of you,” I said to my daughter. “Though some days I’m louder about other stuff so it’s easy to miss that.”
Negative messages and angry words can so easily drown out good ones. I choked up when I saw that print hanging in her room in Pittsburgh—mostly because I was relieved to know that, for 13 years, regardless of anything else I’ve said, she’s had this reminder on her wall:
That I’m proud of her. That I love her. That no matter what, every single day of her life, I am her biggest fan.
Aubrey and I were sleeping peacefully in a hotel in downtown Pittsburgh when tragedy struck Orlando. It’s been another tough week for our country. And during times like this, all that’s wrong seems to drown out all that’s right. The bad stuff gets louder than the good, and the cry of helplessness is deafening. How do we fix what’s broken? What needs to change? Why does evil get to win?
I wish I knew. I wish we all knew. And I hope that we’re able to debate, discuss, educate, collaborate and legislate enough to figure it all out, sooner than later. Today, though, I know this: In my limited sphere of influence, I have the power to make good louder than bad. Immediately. With my children, my friends, my neighbors and, hell, even the guy at the gas station who hands me my carwash ticket at the counter—I have the choice to make love louder than hatred.
I’m not trying to simplify a complex situation; I know that I can’t eradicate the darkness in the hearts of people who are hell bent on doing harm by just being a good person. And yet, the one thing in my control when life seems out of control is the ability to be a force for good. I can embrace and accept others, regardless of race, religion or lifestyle. I can choose words of encouragement over criticism. I can debate issues while respecting others’ opinions. I can love much, much louder than I hate. We all can.
It’s a privilege to work for a company that is itself a force for good in the world. But more than that, I need to be a force for good myself.
My children should hear positive words far more than negative.
My friends and acquaintances should hear acceptance far more than prejudice.
My coworkers should hear appreciation far more than complaints.
And even the people who are peripheral in my life—they should hear good far more than bad emanating from my life.
Aubrey and I stood at the Pittsburgh Pride parade the day after Orlando’s tragedy, and I all I could think was, I’m the luckiest to have my daughter by my side. Too many mothers are waking up today who won’t be able to say that.
So today—and tomorrow, and the next day—I will honor those mothers by being a force for good. I will embrace differences, not reject. I will build people up, not tear them down. I will debate, but respectfully. It might not cure the ills of society. But along the way, hopefully it will make a difference for someone.
At the very least, I will love loudly. It may not be much. But today, it’s what I have.
