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Here’s talking to you, kid
I’m doing something different this month, responding to Heather
Redmond’s piece, ‘Is It Good to Talk?’, because I’m exactly the
opposite.
I know how Heather’s colleague feels – lack of response in other
people can leave you in a kind of limbo. You don’t know what they
are thinking, and it could be something horrible.
I talk a lot. And sometimes it makes me feel uneasy, don’t want to
bore people, don’t want to impose. But I am also genuinely
interested in other people – what they do, where they go on holiday,
whether they have children and grandchildren. And as I get to know
them better, I’ll find myself perhaps discussing family
relationships, theirs and mine. And then there are novels, politics,
the sharing and exchanging of ideas, the joy of discovering
coincidences.
In the past, after a lively evening with friends, even when it
had been a clear success, I used to be prone to feel some doubts,
even guilt the following day. Did I listen enough? Did I
over-dominate the conversation? Did I say something foolish or
expose my ignorance?
Now – and it’s one of the pleasures of getting older – I reckon that
since my friends still want to see me, I must be doing something
right.
And I do know that when I listen, it is with intensity and genuine
interest. I really want to hear what other people say and think – at
least some of the time.
And then I get involved and enthusiastic. I want to share my
experiences and ideas. So off I go, talking again.
Women, of course, talk quite differently to men. We share
confidences, they share camaraderie. I sometimes envy the ease and
lack of intensity of male conversation, and then I think of what
they are missing: gossip, intimacy, emotional insights. Not
necessarily in that order.
I also acknowledge that some people – women as well as men – don’t
want to share emotional insights. Bottling up emotions may be the
better way for them. Maintaining self-esteem may be more important
than letting everything hang out. Yvonne McEwan, international
expert in trauma management, has pointed out that denial is a
wonderful survival tool.
And women’s talk can go round in awful circles. You can find
yourself being the confidante, listening to tales of victimhood and
implicitly going along with the premise because you haven’t the guts
(or knowhow) to disagree. You might be drawn into collusion: backing
up claims that he – husband or partner – is indeed a brute, or
whatever your friend wants you to say.
There are other times when I find I have nothing to say. One is when
I am deeply grieving. When this happens, I can see that family
and friends are concerned about my unfamiliar behaviour, and I try
to reassure them. Another is when I join a new group or
committee. For the first visit, I like to listen, absorb the
atmosphere, and perhaps most importantly, get the measure of the
people who are present. But none of this is deliberately holding
back. I just need to listen or to be quiet.
But then again, there are people with whom I don’t talk and do
deliberately hold back. They’re the ones who Heather, too,
complains about: the people who talk endlessly about themselves and
show no interest in anything anyone else might wish to say. This is
especially true of certain men, who can go on for hours boring for
England. I wait and listen in wonder to see when – or rather if –
they will stop. It happens with some women too. How I would like to
get a carbon copy of me (maybe just a cut-out two-dimensional
version would do), just to nod and smile from time to time, while I
go away and converse with someone who is willing to share and
exchange views. So I have finally worked out that the greatest
compliment I can pay others is to talk.
Conversation, I realise, is a matter of give and take. And it’s
not good to do just one of them.
PS I have checked with Heather and it’s what she thinks
too.
Click here to see Heather Redmond’s feature
‘Is It Good To Talk?’
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Talkback is a
regular feature in laterlife.com run by
journalist and author Helen Franks. 
