Words Matter

Mitch Arnold • July 17, 2024

My five-year-old granddaughter knows the power of words, and she knows that it’s not polite to call other people names or to use her words to taunt them. She knows words can be hurtful and that, if misused, they can contribute to a hostile environment. Her convictions are so strong that she is an eager enforcer of niceness. If I slip up and say something as benign as “stupid,” she is quick to point out that “stupid isn’t a nice word.”


We all knew these things at some point. It’s Kindergarten 101 or in my granddaughter’s case, pre-school 101. Unfortunately, we tend to forget the basics, and we ignore the importance of being nice, as the outside world numbs us with vitriol.


The eye-opening and sobering assassination attempt on Donald Trump is an unfortunate byproduct of an increasingly hostile environment that we’ve come to accept as normal, and it should awaken those early childhood lessons.


It’s so easy to spit ugliness into the world that we often do it without thinking. It’s much more difficult to temper our emotions and be mindful of what type of energy we share. I know, because I’ve struggled with that myself.


Several years ago, when my business was struggling and I was upset with the policy decisions of our nation’s leadership, I took it upon myself to actively criticize everything I thought was wrong with the world, and social media gave me a platform to do so. If I saw a meme that captured my anger, I was quick to share it. If someone offered a viewpoint that I disagreed with, I went on the attack, even if I didn’t know them. As if there weren’t enough of them already, I even started a Facebook page on which I posted one-sided political messages daily.


While I might have felt some vindication with each post, I accomplished very little else with my efforts. I did manage to get myself unfriended by some and probably muted by others, while I doubt that I affected the friends who shared my political beliefs. Looking back, it all seemed an exercise in futility that contributed very little to constructive dialogue.


Thoughtful and balanced political commentary has its place, but the emphasis must be on thoughtful and balanced. If the message is I am right and you are wrong or even worse, my views are beyond reproach and you’re stupid for thinking the way that you do, there is no thought or balance involved, only divisiveness. As we saw with what happened to Trump in Pennsylvania, divisiveness is already a huge problem, and doesn’t need any help in growing.


Now, when I feel the urge to share my frustrations or vent my anger, I think about what kind of energy I’m contributing to the world. Is what I’m about to say going to brighten anyone’s day or encourage them to see the world in a better way or is it going to fan flames that are already raging? Am I considering perspectives that might differ from mine or am I asserting myself as infallible? Would I want someone with a different viewpoint stoking my anger with an unthoughtful and unbalanced message from the other side?



There is already plenty of negativity in the world, and that doesn’t benefit anyone, regardless of their political opinions. It seems to me that we would all be better off if we reverted to those timeless lessons we learned in early childhood, and remind ourselves that if what we’re about to say isn’t nice, maybe we shouldn’t say it at all.

Attitude Makes All of the Difference

By Mitch Arnold • March 15, 2026
About six months ago, I received a letter from a clinic telling me that my five years were up, and it was time for me to call to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. Because that procedure and the preparation for it are awfully unpleasant, I didn’t respond to the letter until last week. If you’ve ever experienced a colonoscopy, perhaps you can forgive my procrastination. After five minutes on hold, I was ready to give up on the call, maybe take it as a sign to buy more time, but Lynda sat near me, looking at me with eyes that said further procrastination would be most unwelcome. At last, a very pleasant voice greeted me on the other end of the line. I joked with her that she was WAY more enthusiastic about the call than I was. She laughed and assured me that she understood my hesitation, but that she was going to make it as easy as possible. Her job was to field reluctant calls from unenthusiastic patients, and then to ask them questions about their bowel movements. For veterans of the procedure like me, she breezed over the details of the preparation that consists of clearing your system with a barrage of intestinal stimulants, and then ended the call with reassurance that it won’t be that bad, and that having the procedure is the responsible thing to do. When I hung up the phone, I thought about how the appointment maker’s attitude made the experience better for both of us. Had she matched my level of enthusiasm and negativity, we probably still would have accomplished the required task, but we would have done so in a way that didn’t reflect our humanity. Then, I thought about how that call was a reminder of how warmth and empathy bring peace to those lucky enough to be around them. The receptionist’s job was to have conversations with people who didn’t want to talk to her and to ask them awkward questions about something as off-putting as their digestive tendencies. That’s certainly a lot to overcome, but she did it like a professional. By the time I hung up the phone, I could feel stress and tension leaving my body. We have many opportunities to do the same thing – not to ask people uncomfortable questions about bodily functions, but to lighten our tone and use empathy to make others more comfortable and bring peace to the world around us. When we encounter people obviously having a rough day, we should be sensitive to their fragility and treat them as we would want to be treated. Even when the bad day isn’t obvious, a little extra warmth and empathy is worth the effort and usually improves our days too. I know this, because I’m often blessed to be on the receiving end of these transactions. Because of my obvious disability, most people soften when meeting me. Even those who I see frequently, like people at the gym, go out of their way to be kind and helpful to me. Of course, I reciprocate, and after a while, it’s just the way that we interact with each other.  That’s a good way to live, and the colonoscopy scheduler reminded me of that. Though I had never met her, I could tell that she cared enough about me as a patient to extend the extra effort of humanity. Think about a world where we all do that every time we interact with each other.

People Think We Shouldn’t Be Friends

By Mitch Arnold • February 15, 2026
Most of my closest friendships go back decades, and they are with people who are a lot like me. Because we grew up in similar environments and share similar backgrounds, my friends and I also share fairly consistent perspectives on the world and current issues. If we differ, it’s usually only slightly. Vernon was a notable exception. Vernon came from a much different background than I, and that made his perspective unique and valuable to me. Despite our differences, we learned over the decades that we had more in common than we could have imagined. I met Vernon in the late 1990s, when I was working in public relations at a historically black university (HBCU), North Carolina A&T State University. He was 15 years older than me, and a consummate professional, not to mention, a snappy dresser. He was always in a suit, and took his work in research administration very seriously. Initially, he intimidated me and I amused him. Not many people on campus looked like me. Fewer came from a background like mine. As a white guy who grew up in the rural Midwest and whose previous job was teaching at a Catholic school in Nebraska, I was very much a minority. Additionally, I was a Republican, and there weren’t many of those around either. I thought of Vernon during the noise surrounding this year’s Super Bowl halftime show. If we still worked down the hallway from each other, one of us surely would have stopped by the other’s office to share perspectives and try to make sense of the controversy. That conversation would have ended, like they all did, with some good-natured humor and a laugh. Decades have passed since Vernon and I worked together. In that time, I moved back to Nebraska and Vernon eventually retired. Still, we kept in touch with phone calls at least once per year. “It’s your white Republican friend from Nebraska” is how those calls usually started. He would follow by asking me again where Nebraska is, and what I thought of the current political landscape. Though clearly incongruent politically, never did we argue or take up sides against each offer. Mostly what we learned from each other is that we weren’t all that different and that often what we assumed wasn’t always the case. Vernon was very much a capitalist and more socially conservative than most Republicans, including me. Jokingly, I once accused him of being a Republican, because a lot of what he said didn’t fit my narrative of a Democrat. Likewise, he was surprised when I told him that I wasn’t a fervent supporter of President Trump. “You’re a unique man,” he said. I told him that I really wasn’t. Like most people on both sides, I valued many of the things he did, like strong family values and a strong economy. We just differed on the role that government should play on those issues. In one particularly poignant exchange, Vernon said, “People would look at us and think that we shouldn’t be friends.” Initially, his comment made me sad; however, I stepped back and thought about it further. In a world that seems intent on separating and categorizing people, it’s important that we remain friends and prioritize our similarities over our differences. I would have enjoyed a conversation with Vernon about the Super Bowl Halftime Show controversy, and imagine that he would have told me that he didn’t watch either show, but I didn’t get that opportunity. Vernon passed away in his sleep last spring. Even though he’s gone, his voice will never leave me. When I see efforts to divide our great nation into sides, I’ll always think of Vernon and strive to have friendships like the one I had with him, even when people think that we shouldn’t be friends.