Website owner:  James Miller

Prudence, good judgment or good taste often dictate silence

   Sometimes I am quiet and have little to say.  It all depends on 
   the situation, the conversation, and the person or person's 
   with which I am conversing.  Sometimes it just seems like 
   prudence and good judgment preclude any possible comment or 
   response.  Prudence, taste or good sense are inhibiting forces 
   that keep me quiet a good deal of the time.  Suppose I think a 
   certain response might hurt feelings, create a wrong idea, be 
   interpreted wrong, or make a bad reflection on myself?  Then 
   good judgment precludes it.  Suppose a conversation is silly or 
   foolish?  I don't like silliness and foolishness.  How do I 
   deal with the situation?  Join in, take part, and become a fool 
   myself?  Reprehend, censure?  Good sense often dictates silence 
   as the best course.  Suppose a conversation is leaning toward 
   the indecent or the irreverent.  How do I deal with the 
   situation?  Join in, go along, go against my conscience, go 
   against what I am?  Reprehend?  It can be a hard, difficult 
   moment.  Responses call for split second, on-your-feet 
   decisions and you don't have time for reflection and thought 
   about what to do, what to say, how to respond.  How to respond 
   to indecent humor or conversation was a question I kept 
   struggling with when I was just getting started in the work-
   world.  I just didn't know how to respond.  I felt put in a 
   very awkward, embarrassing position.  Now it is not such a 
   problem for me.  My judgment may dictate silence or I may feel 
   that an appropriate remark that shows just how I feel and where 
   I stand may be in order.  I live by the motto "Be yourself with 
   no pretense or false fronts" and am not afraid to let people 
   know what my true feelings and values are.  But at that time 
   the idea of appearing Victorian or prudish or of affronting 
   anyone (especially a boss) was just out of the question.  
   I couldn't do it. 

   July 1977