the rest of the story

In Sunday’s blog there was one embedded comment that is perhaps relevant in most — maybe all — of the events we examine.  It’s arguably applicable in each of our opinions.  And it’s probably the one aspect that’s hardest for us to admit, especially when our emotions are enflamed.

 

As previously stated:  “None of us know everything; we continually make judgments and build perspective based on limited information.”

 

We continually make judgments based on limited information — although we assume we either know it all — or at least enough to form (and adhere to) an opinion.

 

That means from where we stand, we can’t tell what Paula Deen did or did not say…

We can’t discern the guilt — or innocence — of either George Zimmerman or Trayvon Martin…

We can’t tell if the administration lied about Benghazi… or if the previous administration lied about known weapons of mass destruction…

We truly don’t know if the unfair targeting of conservative groups by the IRS generated from Washington or anywhere near the White House…

We don’t know with certainty if LeBron James is an arrogant or humble winner…

We have no idea if the Justice Dept. is telling the truth — or lying — regarding their motive for identifying reporters as potential criminals in order to secretly spy on them…

We don’t know if the current immigration legislation being crafted is all good or all not (… granted, those senators voting on it would know a little more if they’d actually read the proposed bill)…

 

We don’t know; our information is limited.  That should alter the passion prompting our perspective.

 

Years ago I was involved in a professional situation in which most all who articulated an opinion were seduced by the limited-information lure.  An angry hotel employee of mine had alerted the local papers and television stations, that our staff had unfairly discriminated against him because he was gay.  He told the awaiting microphones that we wanted to fire him because of his sexual preference/orientation.

 

The tapes were rolling; there was much to record.  “Discrimination!” was uttered in some of the shouts.  The employee was passionate and articulate.  He seemed to have a believable story, as yes, it was true that he was gay and also that we planned on terminating his employment.  However believable, it was also incomplete.

 

The information he chose not to share with the media that morn is that in an elegant setting, he began publicly cooking breakfast for our hotel guests wearing Spandex shorts and flip flops, while smoking a cigarette.  When he was asked to exit and don an appropriate uniform, he refused — and instead locked himself in a hotel room.  It was from that room in which he called the local media.

 

Friends, I never felt free to disclose all aspects of that scenario.  While the employee chose not to share the “rest of the story,” so-to-speak, neither did I.  We never made our case to the media.  We never gave them complete information.  Hence, all conclusions made in regard to the fate of our former breakfast cook were based on limited information.

 

What don’t we know?  … about Paula Deen?  Benghazi?  … the IRS, Justice Dept., George Zimmerman, and more?

 

In each of the above — no matter whether we passionately believe or doubt the account shared — our passion is based solely on limited information.  We will most likely never “know the rest of the story.”

 

Respectfully,

AR