For some of us, it comes naturally, for others, it's a
struggle. Learning how to speak straight can be something you
pick up by osmosis. No sweat if your immediate family travels
this track, but if you are accustomed to speaking in a more
diplomatic, roundabout fashion, it takes a lot of effort to
change your manner of speech. Straight is direct and can have
negative impact if you do not choose your words with care. On
the other hand, if you learn to combine the advantages of
both modes of speech, you come up with a winning style of
communication with a minimum of misunderstandings.
Slice this message into bite-size pieces and try to envision
a few common scenarios. You would like to get together with a
few married siblings during a holiday season. You call
someone up who is very close and discuss the plans back and
forth easily. You speak the same language and understand the
other person's wavelength. So you speak straight and do not
have to hem, haw or circumvent.
Something like this: "So when are we going to get together?
At whose place? Best thing would be a park somewhere in the
middle. That way, we would all be outdoors, the kids would
have a great time, no one would have to prepare food or clean
their house for guests, even heimishe ones, especially
during hectic time."
If you are not exactly on the same wave length, the lady on
the receiving end of the line [a sister-in- law?] may take up
the erroneous hint and think you are fishing for an
invitation to her home, which happens to be in a popular
vacation area. She may start begging you and your four
sisters and uncounted kids to `drop over,' and insist that
lunch is on the house. `Only pita-felafel' or something that
sounds easy but still demands lots of time. And then she'll
rush into a very busy baalebusta mode, clean up a
storm on a chol hamoed morning, change her own plans
of going out with her family, and whip up a full-course
dinner with a fancy dessert. And since she does happen to
have the reputation of a great baalebusta and happy
hostess, you take her up on the offer.
Later, after the party is over, she may seethe with
resentment. It may have been an unasked-for favor, her own
suggestion. But she did put her all into preparing and no one
seemed overly enthusiastic or complimentary enough to warrant
all that work, and aftermath mess. All they wanted to do was
meet in a park, bring sandwiches and drinks, to each her own,
or perhaps avail themselves of a succa, play ball in a
nearby park, relax and "shoot the breeze." And no one wanted
to insult the hostess by turning down the invitation since,
after all, when do they all get together? Compare this to the
scenario in which they would have met in a bigger, more
central outdoor area, much more informally. Think of the ease
of arranging affairs with straight talk.
The same goes for an untold amount of social interaction. In
a society where we have become accustomed to inviting the
butcher, baker and candlestick store owner to every
simcha, we may have to draw our own limits on
attending every affair without hurting anyone's feelings. We
want others to come and participate wholeheartedly in our
affairs. It begins by an innocent invitation to an old
friend. You do me the big favor of traveling from out-of-
town, paying a lot of babysitter money, and spending a whole
evening away from home. I really wanted you to come, but not
at the expense of so much time and money. Still, I couldn't
NOT invite you, either. And I will have to reciprocate for
your bar mitzvas and weddings as well, multiplied by so many
class friends or semi- distant relatives etc.
In this case, perhaps both of you could have managed, and
even preferred, a hearty, shmoosey phone call at non-pressure
time to wish Mazel Tov. You would probably have exchanged
many more words and generated honest good feelings by a cozy
talk, much more, for sure, than you would have shared at that
simcha. You don't want to cut your ties or sour any
relationships, but many times you have to read between the
lines [of your invitations, or the phone lines etc.]. Do they
really want me to come for Shabbos -- with all the kids? Or
to an out-of-town simcha that involves a 1 1/2 hour
trip? Will I/she give the other the proper attention when
they DO show up? Will it have all been worth the great
effort?
Acting naturally and speaking straight does not mean
`underwhelming' your guests and not giving them attention
because you're too busy as a hostess greeting one and all. If
a friend has come, traveled a distance, left a houseful of
babies, not finished preparing her lessons for tomorrow's
class -- she deserves her due, and decent refreshment,
too.
*
[Ed. But you might want to reconsider the whole thing before
the next round, before this spirals out of hand and you find
your `night life' revolving around too many outings. You may
be OVER-EXTENDING yourself, as we point out in another
article here, and perhaps some very PLAIN TALK will spare you
much discomfort in many different kinds of situations.
Diplomatic, of course, but straight and forthright... Perhaps
you and your husband can formulate a family policy and then
tell people that this is what you abide by, like: Out-of-
town simchas only for immediate family etc.
And while on the subject, how about this scenario: you are
already marrying off your children, Boruch Hashem, and the
extended immediate family has, well, extended to an average
of half-a-dozen children to each of your dozen siblings.
Comes Shabbos Oifruf and you feel obligated to invite them
all. You surely want them to come, but how will you manage?
Will you `kill' yourself finding apartments for them all? And
feeding them? Or will you `kill' yourself paying for a big
bash at some hotel or yeshiva-for-hire on an off Shabbos?
How about some plain talk? Draw up some family guidelines as
to how many children anyone can bring. 1) The couple, plus
nursing infants up to a year, and post- Bar Mitzva children.
Whoever cannot find arrangements for their other children
will be left out. 2) Simply say that this time round, you are
inviting only x amount of families, to be determined by lots.
3) They must find their own apartments. Or some other formula
you can all come up with.
Since the problem is, or will be, mutual, have a meeting and
explore the options. Perhaps the siblings will want to pay
for their stay at a hotel, for a change.
Perhaps with some PLAIN TALK with mechutonim, you can
come up with an original formula of one big sheva
brochos, expenses shared, and the oifruf a simple
affair with only friends of the chosson and maybe
married brothers coming in. Really -- who needs the
mechutonim at the oifruf? Wouldn't the
kalla be happier having her family at home? I've
always wondered about this. Back in the alte heim of
America, that's how we did things! Maybe it's time we changed
the spiraling trend!
Whatever, facing the situation head on can save a lot of --
oh, you know -- everything!]
