In Praise of Praise

 Last winter was our snowiest season in more than one hundred years. Schools closed; even the federal government shut down. Here in the suburbs, we were completely snowed in for three days when we got a stunning surprise: the snow plow service we’d hired in previous years had come during the night to dig us out. We woke in the morning to find our driveway plowed, our walkway cleanly swept. “Did you call him?” I asked my husband as we marveled at the walled walkway. He had not. I decided I would send a thank you note along with the invoice but before I could voice my intent, I heard my husband on the phone. He’d called the plowing company to thank them. “You’re awesome,” I heard him say. After he hung up, he said: “That felt great.”

I felt a quick pang of envy. I wanted to feel great. I decided to try an experiment. I was going to notice only the good things that happened to me and to remark on gestures of decency. The experiment stumbled on the very first day when I discovered that our morning newspaper was wet. “He threw the paper on the lawn again.” I am not a complainer. The gripe about the newspaper fell out of me without forethought or any thought. It was automatic. I noted a familiar tension in my throat. My experiment was off to a bad start.

I would have to force myself to focus. In the grocery store, I watched as an employee stacked apples into a tall pyramid display. Instead of racing by and grabbing loose apples from the edges, I stopped and nodded my appreciation. “That’s a work of art,” I said. He offered a wide smile, rubbed an apple on his apron, and handed me the fruit with an exaggerated bow. “A gift from the artist,” he said. I shopped slowly afterwards, greeting the staff, noticing that everyone smiled at me.

Driving around a blind two-lane curve, I nearly plowed into a car that had blown a tire, blocking both lanes. In my rearview mirror, a truck approached. It lurched to a stop several car lengths behind me. Then, it backed away, disappearing around the curve. It had blocked both lanes far behind me, preventing other drivers from racing around the blind curve. Later, I let him pass me on a straightaway and I memorized the numbers under, “How’s my driving?” I called as soon as I got home. I don’t know if they forwarded my entire glowing message to the driver – I hope so, I meant every word. That night, I was calm. All was well, I was fine.

I presented a box of fresh baked donuts to the nursing home staff where my father lives to show my appreciation for all they do in that difficult place. The two nurses on duty laughed with delight. One nurse poured out cups iced tea, saved for special occasions, and we clicked our plastic cups toasting our good fortunes in knowing each other. About a week later, one of the evening staff left a note for me taped to my father’s closet door. “Night nurses get hungry too” which made me laugh out loud. I never laugh in the nursing home! And then it hit me: I felt great.

Praise brings out the best in people. Praise causes strangers to smile and friends to blush. Most importantly, I found that praise is like a boomerang, it radiates out, repeats and multiplies, and then circles back to you when you least expect it, touching your spirit with a smile. At least, that’s what it did for me.

"A Brief Electronic Affair." The New York Times Magazine, Jan 20, 2011.

"House Hunting." Laugh Out Loud Column, Annapolis Home Magazine, 2010.

"iPhone Fever." Good News Network, 2010.

New York Times Magazine, LIVES column, "Fear and Laughing." August 9, 2009

New York Times, Modern Love, July 1, 2007 - "Whereas You Were an Insensitive Fool"

Winner: 2008 DCJCC Literary Festival "Philodendron"

"Survive the revision process." The Writer Magazine.

"The Ring Leader." Metro Family Magazine, September 2007

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