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.

Acceptance vs. Resistance

By Mitch Arnold • May 28, 2025
I bought my first and only motorcycle in 1993. It probably wasn’t a good idea then, and it’s a much worse idea now, but that didn’t stop me from recently considering doing it again. I was only 23 years old and still in my invincible era, when I strapped on my helmet and rode off on my own two wheels for the first time. Understandably, a few naysayers shook their heads and voiced their opinions about me endangering a body that was already fraught with challenges; however, like I did often back then, I ignored their concerns, and was able to ride with no problems. To me, the motorcycle represented freedom. I loved being able to enjoy the open road. I even rode it on a thousand-plus mile round-trip journey to Sturgis for the annual motorcycle rally. Getting kind of smug, I began to envision myself as a life-long biker, but two years later, life intervened. I was moving half-way across the country and getting married, so the motorcycle had to go. In fact, I sold it to pay for an engagement ring, promising myself that I would buy another one when I was established and had the finances to do so. Things didn’t work out the way that I had planned. Fatherhood and home ownership ate up my finances and time, and a second motorcycle kept getting pushed down the line of priorities. Meanwhile, despite my best efforts, my body aged more quickly than I had hoped it would. For most of my life, my resistance to my physical limitations has enabled me to get the most out of imperfect body. Tell me that I couldn’t do something, and you could bet that I was going to try, if only to prove to myself that I could. That resistance allowed me to overcome significant challenges and to succeed when success didn’t seem likely. Lately though, as my limitations have grown and my sense of self-preservation has become stronger, I’ve been trending toward acceptance. Both acceptance and resistance are natural responses to change, and change happens to all of us, especially as we age. While resistance can challenge the status quo, sparking innovation and resilience, acceptance often opens the door to growth, fostering a sense of peace and adaptability. That’s where I’m at now, at least most of the time. Still, when my uncle told me that he was selling his motorcycle, those thoughts of acceptance were elbowed aside by thoughts of resistance. I began to rationalize motorcycle ownership and to imagine myself in the seat again, handlebars in my grip. I could now afford the bike of my dreams, and even had a spot in the garage to park it. I didn’t plan to ride it to Sturgis again, but I thought it would be fun to ride it to the gym and on quiet Sunday mornings, like I used to do. When I researched parking a motorcycle in a handicapped space, I should have realized that insanity of the idea, but resistance tamped down logic. My wife, to her credit, let me play those scenarios out in my head and gave me room to dream, knowing that logic would eventually prevail. And, it did. One slip-up on a bike, and I would suddenly and dramatically limit what I could do with the rest of my life. Accepting that reality was important, and I’m happy that I was able to do it.  Being able to accept who I am – all of it, even the limitations – has given me peace and perspective. It’s not always easy to accept limitations and new realities, but it’s crucial if we want to live a life without regret, and I’m finally there.

Live – Love – Repeat

By Mitch Arnold • April 6, 2025
I lost a close friend to cancer last month, and though sadness will always linger, it’s overshadowed by the gratitude I have for his friendship. Yes, his early death seemed unfair, unusually cruel and senseless, but his approach to life, especially during the dire situation of his last months, was nothing short of inspiring. Jamie was only 47, which is about eight years younger than me. He was a husband and father of three young girls who have yet to reach high school. He was also an integral part of a very close and loving family. Because he was one of those guys who made the world a better place everywhere he went, his network of friends was massive. Always a positive and cheerful person, he became even more so after his stage four cancer diagnosis. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when he called me with that crushing news, on a Sunday afternoon, a little more than six months ago. While I was shocked, he was remarkably upbeat. He said that he felt good, and that he had a plan to attack the cancer. “I’ll be OK,” he reassured me, before hanging up. Still, I called him the next day. I had to make sure that he was really OK and to reassure myself that I was doing everything I could do as a friend. “Just pray,” he said, when I asked him if there was any way that I could help. He went on to tell me how he had begun to embrace religion, even before his diagnosis, and that a priest was helping him sort out his emotions and stay positive. Also on his side were all of the people – friends and family alike – who loved him. He said that so many people were praying for him and doing nice things for his family that it was almost overwhelming, but that he appreciated each and every one. He told me that he could feel the effects of all of those prayers, and that it was helping. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to recover, and cancer won, which left many of us sad and searching for answers. My initial emotions were heavy on the frustration and sadness of losing a friend way too early, but the more that I thought about Jamie, the less that I thought about his final battle. Eventually, I focused less on his death and more on his life. Jamie’s time with us was full of life and love, and cancer shined a huge spotlight on that. Even during that challenging time, he was the same cheerful person who was more interested in the people around him than he was of his own struggles. As we gathered to celebrate his life, there were smiles and laughter among the tears. Because he lived so fully and loved so deeply, we all had happy stories to tell and memories to embrace. Jamie showed me many things through our years of friendship. First and foremost, he showed me that it’s important to live every day to its fullest. No matter what he was doing, he was doing it with a smile and genuine enthusiasm. He seized every possible opportunity to enjoy life, even during those hard months at the end. Second, he showed me the power of love. He cared deeply about his friends and family, and he not only said it, but he showed it too. That love was reciprocated, especially when the end was near.  Jamie set a standard that we should all aspire to. If we can treat every day as a gift to be treasured, and seize every opportunity to show love to those around us, we can make the world around us a better place, just like Jamie did.
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