I wasn’t much for
”
Lassie
”
reruns when I was a kid, but I was always mighty impressed that
Timmy could tell what his faithful companion was trying to say.
I wasn’t much for “Lassie” reruns when I was a kid, but I was always mighty impressed that Timmy could tell what his faithful companion was trying to say.
“What’s that, boy? Mr. Smith has fallen into an artesian well in the northwest corner of Old Man Henry’s farm and he only has limited swimming ability so we had better get over there as soon as possible and rescue him before he gets too tired and we have to call in rescue crews?”
In truth, Lassie was saying “Please set me free from this oppressive television shooting schedule. I just want to go sniff things and dig holes.” But Timmy and the producers didn’t care.
Such nonverbal communication gradually develops as we spend time with people or pets. I know my goldfish is hungry each morning because it swims to the top of the tank and gulps at nothing as if mocking me for eating before it does.
If I could read fish lips, I would probably hear “Come on, dude, you keep me in this cramped home in your kitchen and I have to watch you and your family eat waffles and read the paper every morning before you notice me. Hook me up with some fish flakes already!”
Husbands and wives have this magic nonverbal communication skill. From a husband’s perspective, we may not fully understand women, but we can understand a look that says, “Don’t be a moron!”
My nonverbal communication skills have been put to the test this week since my wife had her tonsils removed on Wednesday. When she scheduled the procedure, the doctor told her she may not be able to talk for at least a week-maybe two. When she relayed that information to me and I joked how this procedure would benefit both of us after all, she used nonverbal communication to express that my joke wasn’t too funny.
After the procedure, the doctor warned me that my wife was going to be in a lot of pain and reminded both of us that she shouldn’t attempt to speak. At home, in lieu of a bell to catch my attention when I’m not in the room with her, we decided that my wife would make her cell phone ring if she needed me.
It worked well, since I could hear it throughout the house. Communicating once I got to her, however, took a little more effort.
We started with hand signals on Wednesday. But I wasn’t too good at this game of charades.
“You need a mixer?” I guessed.
“You want a razor?” I asked.
“You could use some chopsticks?” I wondered.
“You want an ice pick?” I queried.
I was started to get scared as I kept trying to guess which instrument she wanted, but I knew she was still coming out of the anesthesia so I gave her a break.
“Oh, you want a pen!” I finally said. It was like winning the $25,000 Pyramid with Dick Clark.
I brought her the pen and a pad of paper and things immediately got better. Of course, I turned this into a game and started to guess what she was going to write before she finished.
“I can’t …” she wrote.
“Live without me?” I guessed.
No, she told me nonverbally, and then continued writing: “I can’t eat dairy products for a few days.”
Later, she started writing, “Would you please …”
“Stay with you forever? Sure,” I said.
Wrong again, Breen. “Would you please bring me some ice water?”
As of Day Two – yesterday – she was already beginning to whisper, just as I was getting the hang of this nonverbal communication stuff. I’ll be shocked if she isn’t talking by the end of the weekend.
Maybe occasionally taking a fresh look at communication methods can help a couple reconnect. When you have to write everything you want to say to a person, you have to pause to collect your thoughts instead of blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind. That could be a good thing.
In the end, one of you will smile, start to write something, and the other one will already be answering … “You’re welcome.”
Adam Breen teaches nonverbal communication-journalism and yearbook-at San Benito High School. He is former editor of The Free Lance.
