Get our newsletters

Chatterbox: The red sock

Posted

At my house, there’s an expression about “the red sock.” We didn’t invent the phrase, but when we heard it used on a favorite television show decades ago, it stuck.

The meaning of the red sock comes from that load of white laundry we bleach, only to discover that a mysterious red sock found its way in, and now all our underwear is pink. It’s the spoiler; it’s that undetected piano that gets dropped on us while we are diligently working to research every fact to death. Oh, well … the best laid plans of mice and men …

I remember, years ago, doing a column on Bush and Cheney. I researched their administration for about three months. What a challenge. The deeper I dug, the more I found. I was drowning in researched information and footnotes. I couldn’t decide what to use, what to toss, what was relevant … or maybe I should just write the book, but who could lift such an epic? I was losing my focus.

What helped me commit to what the project should be was a friend who was working on a project of her own. She read my columns for such a long time, she asked me, “How do you know when your research is finished?” I had to think there for a while and, then, a light went on.

Every topic goes far deeper and wider than anyone ever realizes. All topics are connected to people and things that are then connected with more … on and so on, until we are cocooned in webs. It’s hard to know where to draw the line and say, “It’s done,” but it must be “done” at some point. I replied with what I had realized, “Research is never done, but it’s sufficient when you have solidly answered the question you have posed.”

There’s a wonderful film I’ve mentioned several times, which is one of my forever favorites. It’s called “Shirley Valentine.” It’s a 1989 British light comedy, and it’s so entertaining, covers so many things, that we don’t realize we’re actually learning something.

In it, there’s a flashback to Shirley’s high school years. She’s been taking a shellacking from the head mistress at her girls’ school for years, for no apparent reasons. One day, the woman asks an assembly of students a question which no one seems to be able to answer. Shirley has the answer. The lady refuses to acknowledge Shirley, though she’s bouncing with her hand over her head. Finally, with no one left to be called upon, Shirley has her chance and gives the correct answer. The headmistress says Shirley couldn’t have known that; someone must have told her, to which Shirley answers, “How … else would I have known it?”

From using a spoon to building rockets to Mars, everything we know, we had to learn, and almost always that knowledge comes from someone else who already knows it. Some people make new discoveries, of course, but that’s learning from another source too, even if the source is research. Then, those people teach others what they’ve learned, and so on.

Whether reporting news on a news show, talk show, or print media, most reliable people dig – or have diligent staffers who do. They dig, resource deeply and double check. If reporters are reliable and not selling their sponsors’ viewpoint instead, we can feel comfortable in that they are reliable sources. Still, even so innocently, sometimes someone gets a little something just a bit wrong and retractions must be made. It proves that we are human and, we all know, of course, humans are not infallible even if our hearts are pure.

Whether we are passionate, or simply opinionated, about any issue, we are doomed ... and our social acquaintances and family may be doomed with us. Whether those with whom we socialize or live with agree with us or not, expounding on issues that affect us or could affect us can make for a very rowdy dinner. We may be agreeing and adding information or disagreeing until the last dish is broken. Either way, one thing is sure: Many words will be misspoken and many people will be misquoted when the night is over. Worse, they will continue to be so, possibly for generations.

Ah, but “To err is human; to forgive, divine …” was first and famously stated by Alexander Pope, an English author and poet, in an essay (or at least that’s what my “sufficient” research tells me), and, of course, there is always that little red sock.


Join our readers whose generous donations are making it possible for you to read our news coverage. Help keep local journalism alive and our community strong. Donate today.


X