Sorry

My recent leisure reading on apology brought back my memory of a long-run Blondie comic strip, in which Mr. Dithers decides to apologize to Dagwood for calling him a "dimwitted noodle brain." Dithers then apologizes by saying, "Dagwood, I'm sorry you're a dimwitted noodle brain" and declares that his conscience is clear because of his "heartfelt apology." (And no prizes for guessing that Mr. Dithers uses the words "I'm sorry" in the sense to express compassion for Dagwood's being a dimwitted noodle brain.)

While I chuckle at the humour, I must confess that it takes time for me to learn how to apologize. It takes forever.

More often than not, people sling accusations at us offhandedly, we snarl back, they yell, we growl, and our voices clashing. There is hardly any place for apology, not to mention sincere apology. On reflection, I simply cannot let go of blame. Blame, by itself, has more claw marks than most of the things I try to let go of. Always the truth, from the alpha to the omega.

Well, blame has always been my knee-jerk response: figure out whose faults things are, and then try to manipulate that person into correcting his or her behaviour so that I can be more comfortable. And oh, yes, our natural human response is simply to look for someone to blame. I did it again and again, only to find out that our overwhelming need to lay blame is never an effective way to apologize.