Chapter 10: Agency—The
Strength to Say “No”
One day Liz took six-year-old Nathan to the park. Some
older boys had climbed to a ledge on the playground equipment and were jumping
off into the gravel below. Nate climbed up to the ledge while Liz was busy
talking to another mother. Suddenly she saw he was going to jump. She yelled to
him to stop. “Don’t jump,” she panicked, “You’ll get hurt.” “No, I won’t,” he
said. “No wait, wait,” Liz begged. “Wait and I’ll climb up and see what it
looks like from where you are.” Soon Liz was sitting precariously on the ledge
beside him. “It’s too high,” she said. “Please get down.” Liz isn’t exactly
sure if Nate lost his balance, got pushed, or if he jumped, but in a blink, Nate
was on the ground crying. At the doctor’s office as Liz explained the story,
the doctor looked at her thoughtfully and said, “Why didn’t you just say no.”
When Nancy Reagan was First Lady, she championed a “Just
Say No,” anti-drug campaign as part of the war on drugs. A few years later it
was expanded to include premarital sex and violence. The core idea was to
educate youth about the dangers of drug abuse, premarital sex, and violence to
help children make the decision to say no before the temptation actually came.
“Just Say No” clubs were founded and many offered children the opportunity to
sign a pledge that they would not do drugs, premarital sex, or violence.
Tracking the success of the “Just Say No” campaign cannot be definitely
established, but there is evidence that Nancy Reagan's efforts increased the
public’s awareness of the problem. A study by the Institute for Social Research
at the University of Michigan showed a significant
decline in drug use during the Reagan presidency. According to this research,
marijuana use among high school seniors dropped from 50.1% in 1978, to 36% in
1987, to 12% in 1991. (See http://www.nida.nih.gov/Infofacts/HSYouthtrends.html.)
Of course there were the detractors to the “Just Say No”
campaign, complaining that it cost too much money and that there was not a
direct correlation between experimenting with drugs and becoming an addict. But
the statistics are there and as Nancy Reagan said: "If you can save just
one child, it's worth it” (www.answers.com/topic/nancy-reagan).
Common sense seconds the motion. How many drug addicts do you know who never
tried drugs? How many people become alcoholics who never take a drink of
liquor? How many babies are born out of wedlock to girls who said no to sex?
How many chain smokers are there who never smoked a cigarette? How many persons
are trying to break a gambling addiction who never gambled? How many are
addicted to pornography who never took the first peak? How many six-year-olds
got injured jumping off a high ledge when his mother just said no and the child
obeyed? We all have the ability to say “no.” It’s a simple n-sound followed by
a long o-sound. You’d think it wouldn’t be that hard to get out of our mouths.
That’s what a backbone is for, to give you courage to say no, mean no, and
stick by no. “Just Say No” has many applications for those who want to avoid
longcuts.
During the year I spent learning the lessons breast
cancer has to teach, when I felt alone and forgotten I’d often get an unseen
visitor. He would sit on my shoulder and say: “You are really sick, and you’re
going to get sicker. You have cancer and people die from cancer. Why keep
battling? You are going to lose anyway. Just let go. The sooner the better for
you and your family. There will be less suffering for them and for you. Just
let go. It will actually be quite pleasant, and it’s going to happen anyway.
Your battle is futile. Besides, your family is doing fine without you.” The
voice was soft, charming, seductive, and convincing. After a number of
experiences listening to the voice, I realized everything he was telling me was
a lie. I knew I could not surrender to the voice. Whether I lived or died
wasn’t the point. I realized the cancer wasn’t my enemy; the voice was my
enemy. One day, as I experienced his cunning, I realized that he only had
control over me if I succumbed and gave him that power. So, the moment I would
feel him on my shoulder I’d gird up courage to say, “I won’t listen to you. Go
away and leave me alone.” I had to tell the voice I was not going to listen,
that I was going to live, and that there were people who did love me and wanted
me to get well. And so the battle went on. Sometimes, I’d have to chase away
negative thoughts with positive thoughts minute by minute. If I let my guard
down, I would see scenes from my funeral in my mind. The best way I had of
counterattacking his attack was by just saying: “No. I will not listen. Go away
and stay away.”
In Guidepost Magazine, January 1997, an article “The
Prison Camp Violin” told a story of just saying no in a different setting to a
different enemy. In 1941, Clair Cline was flying B-24 bombers over Germany. He
was hit by antiaircraft fire, bailed out, and ended up in Stalag Luft I, a
German prison camp for officers. The Geneva Convention stated that officers
could not be sentenced to labor, so there was little to keep these men busy.
Some played cards; some dug tunnels; some read well-worn paperbacks again and
again. Clair chose to be more productive. He wrote letters to his wife and
carved wooden models of B-24s. But after three years, even these more
industrious activities could not sustain him. One day he cried out, “Oh, Lord, please help me
find something constructive to do." (It’s interesting that he didn’t
cry out for release or to go home.) He began concentrating on past memories.
One day he remembered his father’s words: “You can make something out of
nothing, Son. All you've got to do is find a way . . . and there always is
one." Then an extremely amazing thought came. Step by step, day after day,
Clair found ways to make a violin. He used the wooden slats from the bunks. He
found glue hardened around chairs which he scraped off, ground, and heated. He
saved his Red Cross rationed cigarettes and traded them to guards for pumice,
paraffin oil, catgut for the strings, and even a real violin bow. Not only had
he fashioned something that looked like a violin, it actually made music. Clair
said no to the time-wasting activities of the other prisoners. Clair’s violin
blessed him, blessed his fellow prisoners, and even blessed the enemy. He tells
of Christmas Eve. “My most memorable moment was Christmas Eve. As my buddies
brooded about home and families, I began playing "Silent Night."
As the notes drifted through the barracks a voice chimed in, then others.
Amid the harmony I heard a different language. Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht, alles schläft, Einsam wacht . . . An elderly white-haired guard stood in
the shadows, his eyes wet with tears.” This violin has actually been played in
concert halls around the country and has inspired others to be strong and
courageous and not give in or give up. Clair found a way, with God’s help, to
just say no to the longcuts of boredom and despair, and used his agency to
create an instrument of peace.
Honus
Wagner is most likely a name you don’t know unless you collect baseball cards.
Honus was a professional baseball player from 1897 to 1917. For most of his
career he played for the Pittsburg Pirates. He won eight batting titles and led
the league in stolen bases five times. In 1936, he was one of the first five
inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. He is considered by many to the
greatest shortstop ever. In August of 2008, his baseball card was sold for 1.62
million, the highest price ever paid for a baseball card. Are you wondering
what makes his card so valuable? It’s because he was willing to say no to money
and yes to principle.
Only fifty-seven copies of his card are known to
exist, which doesn’t make it the rarest card, just the most expensive. When
Honus found out that the American Tobacco Company was including his baseball
card in packages of cigarettes, he threatened legal action. (The front of the
card has Honus’ picture and the back is an advertisement for Piedmont, the
cigarette of quality.) Honus didn’t want his photo on a card packaged with
cigarettes. He didn’t want children buying cigarettes to get his card. Only
about two hundred were actually printed. Honus was willing to say no to
dollars.
Right
in my own neighborhood are many who were willing to say no to discouragement
and adversity. (I’ve changed their names to protect their identity.)
Betsy
and Bill enjoyed life with their two children, Tom and Mary. When Tom was
sixteen, he was on the high school track team. One day the track coach called
to say Tom had collapsed and an ambulance had been called. Tom had suffered a
stroke and was paralyzed on his right side; he could not speak. Betsy said: “We
were devastated and frightened. How could such a terrible thing happen? The
only way I learned to deal with our situation was one minute, one hour, and one
day at a time. Seven years after Tom’s stroke, Mary was in a car accident and
paralyzed from the neck down.” Betsy said, “When people say to me, how do you
do it?” I respond, “I just do it. I just keep going a day at a time. There is
no choice. You have to pick yourself up and go on. You do what you have to do.
One day at a time. And, eventually, the miracles come.” What miracles? Tom
married Lisa and they have four children, and Mary married Bob and gave birth
to a beautiful little girl.
When
I met Cari, she was seventeen, blind in one eye, and deaf. I asked Cari, via
her mother who was interpreting, how she became interested in gymnastics. She
told me some of her cousins were taking gymnastics and she wanted to take
lessons too. When her mother tried to enroll her, she was told that no one knew
how to sign which would make it too difficult. When her mother told her, Cari
said, “I can do it. I know I can.” A few weeks later, one of her cousins broke
her leg. Her aunt had already paid for the whole year of gymnastics lessons and
invited Cari to go in the cousin’s place. Cari’s mother said, “They said they
didn’t want a deaf child.” Her aunt said, “Then don’t tell them you’re deaf.”
And that’s how Cari started on her way to becoming a star gymnast. She’s had to
learn to compensate for being blind in one eye which makes depth perception
difficult because it alters her sense of balance, making the balance beam extra
tricky. Also, you’d wonderful how can she do a floor routine when she can’t
hear the music? But she does it all. Today she is married and on a university
gymnastics team.
Then
there’s Darla whose mother had taken thalidomide when she was pregnant with Darla,
which causes severe birth defects. (From 1957-1961, thalidomide
was sold in what has been called "one of the biggest medical tragedies of
modern times.”) Margaret has very short legs; she’s three feet, seven inches
tall. Her right arm ends just above the elbow and her left arm is shorter than
you’d expect. She has two fingers and a thumb on her left hand. Yet, she
graduated from college, drives a car, holds down a fulltime job, and is a light
to her friends, family, and co-workers. She said, “I have been schooled in the
University of Disability.” I
could tell you about my mother-in-law, Donna, who had a stroke on the day of
her 57th wedding anniversary and how she had to relearn to swallow,
read, walk, and spent the rest of her life finding ways to compensate for being
paralyzed on her left side. I could tell you after about eight years she said
to me, “The stroke is the best thing that ever happened to me.” I could tell
you about my friend Ann who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis when she was twenty and how she earned a
masters degree in art education from Stanford University, married, raised six
children, and excelled in rising above any difficulty. I could tell you about
hundreds of other friends and family members who have endured physical or
emotional challenges. Amazing individuals who said: “No, I will not let this
adversity stop me from having a wonderful life.”
Larry
Miller’s actions said: “I will not let the fact that my family turned me out at
age sixteen ruin my future.” Heber Grant’s actions said, “I will not be content
with the fact that I am tone-deaf and cannot sing.” Danny Miles’ actions said,
“I will not be content with mediocre basketball teams.” Larry Gelwix’ actions
said, “I will not be content with immoral conduct by the players on my team.
Nancy Reagan’s actions said, “I care and will use my influence to do something
about drug abuse.”
Saying no to discouragement was
important for me during chemotherapy, as it was for Clair Cline to say no to
boredom, Honus Wagner to say no to money, and my friends and mother-in-law to
say no to physical and emotional challenges. However, nothing is more important
than the ability to say no to yourself in order to avoid longcuts. If you can
follow these examples, when the invitation or enticement comes to try behaviors
and substances that have the potential to become addicting, you will have the
integrity to make the n-sound followed by the long o-sound. Developing the
backbone to say “No” is a critical life skill, the theme of this book, and what
you’ll want to say to anyone who is trying to convince you to:
ü Disregard the lessons of the past;
ü Do something “just this once”;
ü Do something “because no one will ever know”;
ü Do something dangerous because the laws of nature
won’t affect you;
ü Believe you can do something bad and still feel
good;
ü Take the immediate reward of one marshmallow;
ü Cheat, steal, or lie when necessary to gain an
advantage;
ü Give up when something is hard;
ü Eat,
drink, and be merry today for tomorrow never comes;
ü Do
what feels good at the moment;
ü Doubt
others see things you don’t;
ü Live
free of the restrictions of goals;
ü Procrastinate
and take life easy;
ü Indulge
your cravings;
ü Feel
it’s O.K. to be grouchy, moody, and selfish;
ü Think
of work as an unpleasant necessity;
ü Do
things in the dark that you wouldn’t do in the light;
ü Say
“Yes!” to something you know is wrong for the thrill, dare, or under peer
pressure.
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