I WENT HOME some months ago to hear that Ted, our neighbour, had been scouring the area, looking for me.
He checked in at my home, didn’t find me.
He left not-so-pleasant messages with some of my neighbours. He even ran into a work colleague of mine and vented a bit to her.
Folks, Ted was upset. He had taken strong objection to my description of him in an earlier column. He sought me out day and sometimes night.
In the column earlier this year I was making a case as to why detainee Raul Garcia should not roam Barbados unfettered.
I had written my first-hand account of how drug smugglers impacted on our small society.
How they rob us of productive members of society, friends, husbands, wives, aunts and uncles.
I recounted how I had seen Ted go from a Sunday school boy to a not-so-productive member of society, how Ted’s reaction at “seeing little green men” sometimes left residents rattled.
“I also tried to convey the pity felt by many others in neighbourhoods with their own “Teds” and the fact that younger residents may never see them in a wholesome light, thanks to the destructive efforts of the drug smuggler.
Ted, a childhood friend, had protested my heartfelt account of his life.
Then one night around 11 o’clock, as I popped into the nearby gas station, I caught sight of a shadowy figure moving near the vehicle.
I became alarmed but the feeling soon vanished when I realized it was Ted.
“Ted!” I greeted him.
“Miss Connell,” he replied, choosing to be very formal, thus allowing me to know he was upset.
He told me he did not appreciate my description, especially since it struck a chord with one of his relatives who brandished it as proof that she was right and he was wrong. She chastised him.
I didn’t mean to create any domestic friction, I told him.
But I did, he responded. Ted clearly was in no mood for any quick apology, no matter how sincere I was or the hour of the night.
Not everything must be said and not everything would a person want to hear, Ted stated.
Was I being untruthful? I asked him.
To answer, he used the example of a man-and-woman relationship to explain that not every fault on the part of the other person needed to be pointed out by the partner.
I understood his point. We may know certain things about ourselves but do we want it laid bare for us by others?
I didn’t have to say certain things, he said, and took me to task.
I challenged him to prove me wrong and return to the former Ted when conversations were easier and fear was not the initial reaction to any encounter.
He made no promises.
But there in the dark I found a lesson in what Ted was saying.
Who am I to take it upon myself to point out some unflattering thing about a person to thousands of readers.
No matter how we perceive people, they also have a perception of themselves. You still have to be careful of assigning too much significance to you and your opinion while logging others’ views as less important. This does not mean I will not give an opinion; I’ll just be a bit more prudent.
Before Ted departed he gave me licence to write about him; so I take it that our late night conversation was approved for publication.
He wanted me to know how he felt.
By the way, that initial “Ted” column was one of the more-responded-to columns since I started The ’Nette Effect at the beginning of this year.
•Antoinette Connell is the DAILY NATION Editor.
