I was five when my paternal grandfather died. I don’t remember much about him, other than that he was a quiet man who sometimes slept on the sofa – at least that’s one image that sticks in my mind. Succeeding generations have called him, “Silent Sam.” He spoke very little apart from telling his children or grandchildren to put this over there or bring me that. My father talks about his mother and grandmother, his sisters, and of course his older brother, James, who was killed in WWII. Dad’s memories don’t seem to involve Sam much, except for the day the family received word that James had been killed in action. Dad was pulled out of class and sent home. Sam told him to “go build a floor for the chicken coop,” but didn’t say James had died. Dad was left to infer what had happened. To this day, dad believes his father put him to work to take his mind off losing his big brother. “I think I needed to keep busy,” he recently told me.
Sam was part of a generation that worked hard for a living and probably saw little point in saying a lot about it. “Actions speak louder than words,” after all. Silent Sam was not known for words of comfort or praise. He wasn’t the sensitive or nurturing type. Yet, neither of Dad’s parents went to his football and basketball games or to hear him play in the band. Maybe that’s one reason Dad often went to see us play and supported our musical interests so fully.
Why was Sam silent? I suspect that sometimes a man might find himself driven to silence, just as some men feel driven to gamble or drink. I’ve often experienced the feeling there would be no use speaking about certain things. I’ve had moments of openness used against me, and shared feelings that were called “over-reactions,” attempts to make someone feel bad, or even narcissism. I was once labelled a “loose cannon” for sharing my honest opinion. Apparently, men are welcome to speak if they agree with those around them or if they keep their opinions in check. Maybe Sam figured it’s better to remain silent than risk further alienation.
Men are allowed to talk about sports, cars, or their jobs, but they’d better be careful who they tell about how they feel. I once observed that some women seem to want men to be sensitive only up to a point. I’ve heard many women say they want a man to be “available,” yet they also want a man to be a good provider, and of course be able to “take charge” of things. It seems to me if a man wants to excel in his field, he must be willing to work long hours or travel extensively. My dad was on the road a lot when I was little. I still have a mental picture of him getting on a plane as I waved goodbye. There is a trade-off between providing advantage and availability. Maybe Sam was doing the best he could.
I want to be charitable to the Silent Sams of the world. The amount of information we all must deal with is daunting. And now we live under the threat of being labelled “toxic” if we don’t share something in the right way. Too many mistakes and we’re out of the game. So, some men remain silent, keep their heads down, and do their jobs. “Know what to kiss…and when” was the phrase we talked about in college. Sadly, the more circumspect among us tend to be sidelined, while those who kiss the right things at the right times and know how to practice the art of self-promotion tend to get ahead. Sam wouldn’t have made it on the internet.
Nevertheless, life is a balancing act between thinking, doing, and communicating. Figuring out what to share, as well as when and how to share it, is part of the game. Being able to deliver the goods and not just talk about what you can or might do is essential. From all the accounts I’ve heard, Sam’s career did not go far. His wife, Helen, went farther, running a successful store and earning a certain amount of respect in our little town. My father went on to become an executive for a Fortune 500 company. He learned that while his dad might have been a hard worker, that was not enough. It’s difficult to work with others in any setting if you are a Silent Sam.
MurrayWorks 