Say The Magic Word

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"A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger."

-- Proverbs 15:1

Saying the right thing at the right time, can save you.
We’ve all been in situations where we said the exact, right thing and BAM—it feels great!

Jesus did that a lot.
Abraham Lincoln always seemed to have a response.
And any character in an Aaron Sorkin show—great lines.
Cyrano de Bergerac had the right idea.
Clever quips, poignant asides, great advice in times of need—- it's what we try for.

I remember two years ago, my dad was in the hospital for some spinal surgery.
My father was a figure of power and strength for my most of my childhood— he lifted anything and everything— huge planks of wood, tons of bricks, bags of cement, and on several occasions, my brothers and myself.
Then, in 2008, he had some minor surgery on his spine and neck. Minor, sure, but it’s still surgery.
The day we took him home from the hospital (it was only overnight), he was a bit upset-- ornery, if you will. He felt weak, he felt feeble, he was in the first stages of recovery. He could barely turn his head and needed to use a cane when walking (he’s much more mobile now).
But my dad was stubborn.
“I don’t want the damn cane.”
My mother insisted (as did the physical therapist), “Take the cane.”
“No.”
Back and forth, they went.
Finally my dad, fed up, shouted, “Leave the cane!”
I quietly chimed in, “Take the cannoli.”
(à la “The Godfather”)

There was a beat.
And then… laughter.
My dad laughed.
It cut the tension into itty bitty pieces.
Was that the funniest, cleverest thing I’ve ever said.
Of course not!
I am a comedic genius! I can think of much funnier stuff at any given moment
(example: Uh… monkey?… diarrhea sandwich?... oh, to hell with it)

But saying the right thing, at the right time, diffusing a tense situation…
Priceless.
That might have been the most rewarding laugh of my life.


Of course, I learned by watching my old man.
Just one night earlier, a few hours before his surgery, my brothers and I were visiting my dad in his hospital room.
“Aaron,” he said, “Could you unplug my heating pad? It’s the blue extension chord in the wall.”
I stooped down beside the bed, there were several plugs and wires in the wall outlet, connected to his IV drip, heart/pulse monitor, etc. No life support or anything.
I double-checked the wire of the heating pad, a blue extension chord and my dad assured me (“Yeah, the blue one”).

I should’ve expected what happened next…
I yanked out the blue chord and immediately— I heard my Dad yelp, “Oh god!”
I looked up, one hand gripping his chest, the other hand flailing about.
“Jesus Christ!”

And then, immediately— laughter.
First from my father and then my brothers. Raucous, belly laughter.

Not from me, so much. But they enjoyed it.

“Oh, you should’ve seen yourself,” my dad has said many times since, laughing at my abject terror, “Oh man. All the color left your face, you thought you’d killed me. It was great.”

Timing is everything.
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