Another
week. Another obscure Dr. Seuss story. This time
the story of the Pale Green Pants. Of note, an internet search to find more
about this story revealed that these pants have sort of a cult following. Who
knew?
The story
goes something like this: A young boy goes walking late at night and runs into
a pair of pale green pants. The pants can run.
Understandably
the boy is completely and totally freaked out. He runs straight home to safety.
Uninhabited
pants, green or any other color, are not supposed to run.
And yet,
there they are. Running. Biking.
Colliding with the boy.
The boy has
never seen pants like this.
He escapes
when he can—or hides.
And then one
day he can’t avoid the pants any longer.
He yells for
help. He screams, he shrieks, he howls, he yowls, he cries, “Oh, save me from
these pale green pants with nobody inside!”
And the most
amazing thing happens. The pale green pants, these strange unfamiliar pants
begin to cry.
It seems the
pale green pants are actually afraid of the little boy.
The boy says,
“I began to see that I was just as strange to them as they were strange to me.”
And that is
a profound statement.
The story
reminds me of something that happened in one of my English classes last week.
I asked my
students to read an article about names published in Wired Science. The author
discussed a Yale study which suggested that people with easy to pronounce names
are more popular and even make more money than people with difficult to
pronounce names.
My students
were mortified.
That’s not
fair, they protested.
That can’t
be right.
And yet, the
more we discussed it, the more we admitted that the study might be at least
partially right. Most easy to pronounce names are familiar, and most difficult
to pronounce names are unfamiliar. And we like things that are familiar to us.
And that’s not fair at all.
The
principle behind this finding at least partly explains why we tend to hang out
with people who are like us.
And people
who aren’t like us? We’re often a little cautious about them.
And they are
cautious about us.
When you
come down to it, most of us are a little strange. It’s a wonder we ever make
friends with anyone. And yet we must. Life
alone is lonely.
We can
respond to the fear by running and hiding and crying like the boy.
Or we can
recognize that even when people seem strange, they are a lot like us.
I’ve seen
this in life groups.
I’ve seen
this as I’ve traveled around the United States.
I’ve seen
this as I’ve visited other countries.
Like the
pale green pants, some things—and some people—seem very strange.
But if we
slow down and say hi, the strangeness faces away.
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