On KJZZ's SOAPBOX, The Show turns over the the mic to listeners. For the fall 2022, writers tackled the theme SORRY.
Arizona has a lot of apologizing going on these days. People running for offices are going on apology tours; county election officials are apologizing for not printing enough ballots; athletes and comedians are reaching for the “sorry” word. Then there are the Arizonans who refuse to apologize — ever. It’s a John Wayne-like belief that apologies are signs of weakness.
Arizona has an “I’m sorry” law that allows physicians the chance to offer a sincere apology for a medical mistake. The idea is to create a safe conversation, maybe reduce anger and most importantly diminish the risk of a malpractice lawsuit. I get it. I’ve made many mistakes in my work and always found that fessing up to them made me feel better. My bosses? Not so much.
There are tearful apologies, heartfelt apologies and sarcastic apologies. When I was young, my family played the board game called “Sorry.” It taught me the dark pleasure of the insincere apology. Whenever my piece landed on a square with my sister’s piece I could move her back to the start. I would roll my eyes and chirp “sorry!”
The older you get the more you think about apologies and reaching out. I wonder if it’s helpful to the offended people to hear me or if it’s more about me seeking release from those memories. Check out the Hardest Word podcast. People own up to all sorts of misdeeds and their voices are filled with raw emotion and a sense of relief.
Eventually you may hear a deathbed apology. People I’ve loved have taken a moment to recall an incident from long ago and tell me that they wished it had been different. Usually over something that now seems trivial yet they had carried remorse over the years and the effort had weighed them down. Just talking about it seemed cathartic.
My car radio is filled with apologies. Songs about misconnects suggesting the need to send in clowns; that sorry seems to be the hardest word; asking forgiveness because you were always on my mind; assigning blame (it’s a little bit me and a little bit you); power ballads that note it’s hard to say I’m sorry; catchy ditties that wish they could turn back time. I can tell you that it isn’t effective to say how I only wanted to see you in the purple rain. Tried it. Didn’t work.
I have a lot to apologize for in this life and whenever possible, I’m trying to do that. However, it’s difficult to look up the people I knew and wronged in grade school or high school or college or at the multitude of jobs I’ve held over the years and all those I’ve loved. Sure, if I bump into Mike from third grade I’m going to have chat about my unkind words. So I’m putting everyone on notice that I’m going to talk with them soon. I truly am sorry.
Paul Morris grew up in Arizona and retired from working at Arizona State University exactly 29 days before the COVID-19 quarantines began. He plays cornet in a traditional jazz band called the Hot Beignets and spends his days apologizing to people in Tempe.