The Feud
The infamous Hatfield-McCoy feud of the 19th century was rivaled in my lifetime by the 20th century Fox-Blakeslee feud. The Blakeslees were our next door neighbors.
I was almost three years old when my brother David was born. My dad asked Mrs. Blakeslee next door to “watch me” while he drove my mother to the hospital to give birth. For whatever reason, she refused.
Dad was angry, and he held onto his anger. From that day on he refused to speak to or acknowledge the Blakeslees in any way, and that lasted throughout my entire childhood.
I’ve heard it said that holding on to anger is like taking poison and expecting the other person to die. I agree, and that’s reason enough to release anger.
The nearest I’ve come to a personal feud was about eight years ago when I sent out an email to everyone on my mailing list, inviting them to receive to my weekly blog. Almost everyone accepted, and I thank all of you.
Two people, however, not only declined my invitation, but also sent me a nasty note in response. One was my former law partner and the other my former college debate partner. I couldn’t make this up.
I learned long ago that it’s okay to ask. And it’s also okay to say “no.” While I was surprised by their hostility, I just followed their lead, and deleted their email addresses permanently. I won’t be sending them any further invitations.
Happily, Dad did change. I was a teenager by then, but I still remember the eventful evening. Everyone in the neighborhood was out in the street watching a total eclipse of the moon. Maybe that had put Dad in a forgiving mood. Or maybe thirteen years had been long enough for him to boil. He actually said “hello” to Mrs. Blakeslee, and Voila! – just like that – the feud was over.
There already aren’t enough hours in my life to complete my “bucket list,” and I refuse to waste any time and emotional energy by carrying around a grudge.
I simply smile, enjoy my life, and wish everyone well.
Alan