Dead Fish

It frustrates me, at my age and for someone who often acts like he knows it all, to consider just how much more I have yet to learn and how little time (relatively speaking) I have left to figure things out… about a lot of things, but certainly about human nature and the complexities of our relationships with each other and with life itself. The ebb and flow of individual life experiences and perspectives make it difficult to grasp in a single thought the meaning of life, much less any certainty about the best way to live it. Complicating matters (for many of us) is having been raised in juxtaposing cultures—island sea-faring, warrior poets of the Mortlocks and old-south, confederate good-ole-boys of Virgina for me. You really can’t script a juxtaposition of more complex proportions. What may be acceptable in one is not always correct in the other. It’s fair to say, being mixed up can be confusing, but there is hope in finding balance down the middle (on an even keel, if you will). There is an undertow of commonalities in nearly all cultures, but we sometimes need to wipe the fog off the lenses from our respective up-bringing to see and appreciate them fully.

Perhaps there is some truth to Socrates saying that, “The only true wisdom is in knowing you nothing,” but it can be a hard pill to swallow for those of us who’s egos and self-worth are hopelessly and inextricably linked to what we think we know.

Whether through formal education, self-study or even casual conversations, there is always something new to learn. In the words of Mark Twain, we should “never let our schooling interfere with our education.” Education being, “that which reveals to the wise, and conceals from the stupid, the vast limits of their knowledge.” The process of learning is a journey with no end in sight. Humbling though it may be, some of us need regular reminders to get over ourselves and that we really can’t ever know it all. Bear in mind that, “A true friend stabs you in the front, not the back” (Oscar Wilde).

I’ve had the good fortune of being guided (or perhaps influenced is a better word) by some such friends and family members. Professionally speaking, I learned early on the disadvantages of surrounding myself with sycophants and made a concerted effort to engage with people who put fiduciary duty over personal kinship and said what they felt rather than what they thought I wanted to hear. My mentors (whether they knew I thought of them as such or not)—co-workers, bosses, boards of directors, and the likes—were never impressed by egocentrism and kept me grounded in humility as a virtue. They (I won’t name names because the list is long and I don’t have their permissions) instilled a sense of value in looking beyond myself, arguably the most rewarding life-lesson for me to date. I hope everyone can grow in their respective careers and life in general surrounded by people who challenge and hold them accountable to elevated, albeit intangible standards as such. I am doing my best to pay it forward. And no, it isn’t easy to take criticism (constructive or otherwise) especially for the prideful, but each can be a learning opportunity for good, bad or indifference.

It’s no exaggeration to say I was years deep into an executive management career before I understood or at least became more sensitive to the importance of decorum. It took someone telling me directly that he didn’t appreciate my childish antics including but not limited to sarcasm or other lame attempts at being funny (at least not in my official capacity). Again, what is funny to some may be offensive to others and, if you choose a life of public service and genuinely want to do right by the community you serve then you will consider the collective good beyond your own.

One of the many odd variances (and on-going challenges for me) between my respective cultures comes in the form of a handshake. As a young Mortlockese boy, I was taught when greeting another (especially our elders) to offer a soft hand shake with a light grip and a slight bow (with no direct or at least no prolonged eye-contact) as a sign of respect—that a stare and a hard grip was “namaike” or a challenge…to fight. Similarly, the Chamorro and Carolinian “fangingi” sometimes with a light hold onto their elder’s hand. Conversely, it is an insult or a sign of disrespect for a true Virginian gentleman who doesn’t get a firm handshake and direct eye contact when being greeted. The “Dead Fish” handshake as we called it was a favorite among older Fraternity brothers in welcoming young pledges to let them know how worthless they were before being inducted, if they made it through (what for my brothers and I was a six-month hazing…err… I mean pledging period). Point being, for emphasis, is that what is good for one maybe be insulting to another and nowhere is that more important to understand than in the greatest “melting pot’ of the world.

Coincidentally, some of the challenges for many in the population of individuals with disabilities served by the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation otherwise known as OVR—namely persons with autism—are eye-contact and/or physical touch including a handshake sometimes. Common characteristics of persons on the autism spectrum often include an aversion, if not resistance, to physical touch and eye contact—there are exceptions, of course. Given OVR’s mission to get said individuals into competitive integrated employment, those characteristics alone can become barriers (particularly in private industries built largely on firm handshakes and such) due to a lack of understanding or appreciation for a person’s worth beyond the drive for conformity. The same is true for barriers due to cultural proclivities. A passing thought on that point and cultural taboos as a word of caution: For some islanders (I can say Mortlockese/Chuukese for certain and I think for culturally sensitive Chamorros and Carolinians as well), jokes relating to a man’s mother, sister and other female family members especially (although not necessarily) in mixed company are straight up fighting words—no ifs, ands or buts about it. Coincidentally, my first fight upon moving to Virginia started over a “Joe Mama” joke that I took personally on instinct and though I have since learned to “take a joke” (as Americans like to say), others still may not.

Truth be told, much of what I think I know today has been learned in trial by fire or on the fly picking up tidbits and pieces of wisdom from people far wiser than I ever could be. More often than I’d like to admit, I’ve had to learn from my mistakes.

In the spirit of finding commonalities between juxtaposing cultures, Mahatma Ghandi said, “The simplest acts of kindness are by far more powerful than a thousand heads bowing in prayer” and his polar opposite (in terms of culture and lifestyle), Mark Twain, reminds us that, “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” And finally, Facebook told me, “If you can’t be kind… be quiet.”

For more about vocational rehabilitation services for people with disabilities, please contact the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation at (670) 322-6537/8 or online at www.ovrgov.net.

Jim Rayphand is director of the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation and is a former executive director of the Northern Marianas Protection and Advocacy Systems Inc.