This story first appeared on social media before I later included it, along with many others, in Food for the Soul, a collection I self-published.
When my grandson was a little guy, we spent a lot of time together. Occasionally, he would come home from school using words that elicited an oh-my-gosh look from me. Simply telling him those words weren’t nice wouldn’t be enough.
As a teenager, an older brother once told me that swearing was a reflection of a person’s IQ—people would know if you were smart or not by your choice of language. I figured as long as I kept my swearing close to home and shared my intelligent vocabulary with the world, I’d be all right.
Sort of like using the “F” word. Yep, I’ve used it. Growing up, it wasn’t a word I’d even heard of. Sure, I lived in a small community, but I don’t believe we were that sheltered—heck, we knew about Vietnam, “Make Love, Not War,” sneaking out of the house, and drinking beer. Seems like we would have known the “F” word.
Leaving my community, things changed—including my vocabulary. I began using it when I was angry, thinking it made my point more powerful. At the time, I thought I was in control, blasting it out like I meant business.
These days, I notice people using it even when they’re laughing—maybe, like me back then, they think it adds something extra to what they’re saying.
Through the years, working with clients, I’ve learned that sharing a story woven with a message has a way of capturing interest, planting seeds, and making a point people can relate to. Stories allow people to learn without feeling the need to be defensive.
So here I am—“Grams”—revisiting the message my brother once shared with me.
I sat down next to Bryce and told him we were going to rate words. Using the words he had shared earlier, along with some everyday ones, I asked him how he felt when he said them. One by one, using a scale from “way down low” to “way up high”—my hands demonstrating from floor level to about four feet—I had him place each word where he thought it fit.
Then, I shifted the conversation. “If you were feeling low, would you do as well playing baseball as you would if you were feeling good?”
After a bit of back and forth, he got my point. From then on, if he used an unacceptable word, I’d simply ask, “Are you going way down low, or do you want to shift it up high?” To this day, I’ve never heard him use the “F” word.
Language is an expression of who we are and how we feel. In 1998, I believed it had everything to do with self-esteem.
Pondering Thoughts
I originally wrote this in 2001, and life has changed in almost 25 years. I think back to generational shifts—music that rattled the older generation, from Elvis and his smooth voice and swiveling hips to Bob Dylan’s anti-war lyrics. The Beatles arrived, introducing a sound and energy that had parents convinced they were losing control of their kids.
Women’s roles were shifting, too. Careers, credit cards, purchasing power—things that weren’t always options before.
Fast food popped up everywhere—Arctic Circle selling five hamburgers for a dollar before McDonald’s took over. Woodstock, Vietnam, smoking weed, mini skirts, layers of makeup. We did it because we could, not because our parents approved.
We weren’t the first generation to push boundaries, and we wouldn’t be the last.
Here we are in 2025, almost 25 years later. When I wrote this, words carried a different weight. Back then, certain words defined you. Today? Not so much. The “F” word seems more like a generational statement—rebellion in a different form, another piece of evolution.
So what’s the point? Full circle. My grandson Bryce has taught in public schools, and I’d put my last dollar on the table believing he doesn’t use the “F” word in front of his students.
