On a (Somewhat) Lighter Note
My notes here have been of the emotionally heavy variety lately, so today I’m thinking about something a bit lighter: the silly, the mundane… and compliments and insults.
I try to give compliments often—sometimes to people I know well, sometimes to people I’ve just met. It can be as simple as noticing someone’s shoes, their smile, or just offering a sincere thank you. Maybe it’s part of an ingrained gratitude practice, but I like that sharing something positive is free, easy, and almost always well received.
And truthfully, I tend to see the good in people. I pride myself on being able to find something kind to say about nearly everyone I meet—or even just feel like I know.
That said… I also accidentally insult people.
I’ll say something I mean innocently, and Eddie will shoot me a look and say, “That wasn’t very nice.” I’m almost always mortified. I don’t mean it, and I hate the idea that something I said might stick.
Because here’s the thing—I still remember a handful of insults directed at me over the years. They linger. “Queen of the Dodo Birds.” A sorority sister once asking why people were friends with me at all. A seamstress looking me up and down and saying, “I also do wardrobe consult.”
They stay with you.
And the irony is, the clever response—the perfect comeback—is almost always the “wit of the stairwell.” The thing you think of five minutes too late.
So why do the negative comments stick so much more than the positive ones?
I looked it up, because of course I did. And there it was — negativity bias. Right alongside recency bias and confirmation bias, like an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while. Psychology Today has a fascinating piece on why our brains are wired to cling to the bad. Knowing it has a name doesn’t make it sting less, but it helps.
Why don’t we hold onto the kind words with the same intensity? The warmth-inducing comments, the genuine compliments?
Is it because the negative feels more revealing? More motivating? (I can assure you, I rarely leave the house looking slovenly anymore.) Or do we discount the positive—assuming there’s an agenda, or brushing it off as flattery, or simply not believing it?
I often come back to the Maya Angelou line: “People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.”
But I’ve noticed something that complicates all of this — something that only seems to happen with distance.
We soften. We remember the best in people, in places, in things. The edges blur. The negative fades. We look back with nostalgia—on stores that are long gone (I can still find in my mind where everything I need is at Hiller’s!), on people we’ve lost, even on versions of ourselves.
We remember the good.
What if we practiced a positivity bias of our own? Not naive, not forced — just intentional. Noticing the good. Saying it out loud.
Which makes me think this: if time eventually does its work—if the positive is what remains—why not be intentional about it now?
To say the kind word, to notice the small good. To leave people with a feeling they might carry longer than we realize.
Because in the end, this is legacy.
Not just what we’ve done—but how we’ve made people feel along the way. And whether, when they think of us later, what comes to mind is kindness and impact.
How are you carrying your good name forward? What small kindness are you putting out there today?
I’m always up to talk about it — over Zoom, coffee, or a walk.
Fondly,
Kari
P.S. Is there an insult or a compliment that has always stayed with you? I’d love to hear it and we can laugh about it, together. Let’s compare memories (and laughs!).
