I’m just a story teller. It’s a perfect playground for the idle musings of a muddled mind and what’s more I can typically avoid the maelstrom and vitriol that comes with sharply expressed opinions. But from time to time you just have to stand up and say what you think out loud. So here goes.

On the face of it this is not a burning issue. No one is going to take to the streets over it and that is in part what makes it so insidious. Corporations and media are stealing words from us.

There are so many but I’ll talk about three in particular: Hero, crisis and family.

Hero

There was a time when ‘hero’ meant something. It’s a small precise word which when it is properly used perfectly describes a category of behaviour which is typically selfless, brave and consequential. My father was a hero. In WW2 at the ripe old age of 21 a young Captain Peyton attacked a pagoda in the jungles of Burma. He was under a withering barrage of machine gun fire but pressed on to his objective. For his gallantry he was awarded the Military Cross by King George V, one of the highest military honours that can be bestowed. His actions were brave, selfless and consequential. My dad was a hero.

Today ‘hero’ is applied to mundane, everyday behaviours. And the word has lost its power, it’s ability to describe exceptional and unique response. Going to work is not heroic, collecting garbage on the school playground is not heroic, helping an elderly woman home with her groceries is not heroic. The list of pedestrian gestures described as ‘heroic’ is endless and makes this powerful meaningful word meaningless.

Crisis

What isn’t a ‘crisis’ now? It used to be a word which in the very mention could alert entire populations to an urgent event or moment in time, an event requiring immediate response. Yeah, not so much anymore. ‘Crisis’ is the ‘Breaking News’ of attention grabbers, for the most part meaningless and barely able to raise an eyebrow. CNN and other media platforms are instructed by media consultants to use ‘Breaking News’ at least four times per hour, regardless of whether it is. What kind of fools do they play us for? Crisis and Breaking News have become worthless, no longer able to get our attention when attention is what is needed.

Family

I was listening to a new radio station recently, Vancouver’s Now Radio 102.7. It’s good and refreshing, ironically enough a modern day throwback to the glory days of radio. Young hip jocks playing great music and doing a great job of engaging listeners in conversation.

‘102.7, Vancouver’s Conversation Station’

“Call us, text join our conversation. C’mon family we’d love to hear from you.”

“102.7 Vancouver’s conversation station. First time texter. Welcome to the family Shandra.”

And there it was. Another attempt to steal words, to render them meaningless. Some faceless jock is not my family. Never will be. I have a family and it is not some community of listeners with a common preference for a radio station! Belonging to a family is a rare honour, bestowed freely and earned each and every day. Now, I know the on-air staff have been instructed to use ‘family’ as part of the branding, the positioning of the Now format. I get it. I was in radio for a long time. This is the same old corporate nonsense taking one of our most treasured words and using it to try and gather listeners. It has no integrity, no heart; it is at best a cynical, manipulative tactic.

I can remember one of those inevitable all staff meetings when the station GM introduced some VP of Broadcasting. He was part of Stingray a huge broadcast corporation which had recently acquired a number of radio stations in BC, ours among them.

“Welcome to the Stingray family …“ he intoned. I bristled. I always bristle when somebody or some corporation tries to steal that word from me. After the talking head went back to wherever it was he came from our GM asked for input on the meeting.

“This is not my family” I spoke up.

“My family is at home, they are my wife and children and my grandchildren and my parents. That is my family! They have been with me all their lives. We celebrate together and we hold each other tight when failure or tragedy visits. Our hands are joined in a web of support for every member of my family. None of us will fall far before we are caught in that protective embrace. Stingray is none of that and I don’t need it to be. All I want from my employer is a respectful working relationship and an opportunity to succeed in radio. Stingray will come and go in my life. My family won’t. You’re the GM, my boss and it’s an overreach to describe it all as being part of a family.”

I was on a roll.

“Oh Tony, you’re being too literal. Stingray just wants you to know it will take care of you like family.”

“No it won’t” I laughed, “And I don’t need Stingray to do that! In any event it’s something they can never be. Stingray can fire my ass, at will. My family can’t!”

One of those corporate surveys came out shortly after and I repeated the same thing. I knew it would fall on deaf ears but at least I’d said my piece, not without unseen consequence I expect but I had done what I’ve always told my children: Stand up for something from time to time, or stand for nothing.

And I don’t get a merit badge for that. It’s like most things, much easier to grin and bear it rather than speak out of turn. It helped as well that I was 60 by then and well entrenched in my radio career. A little rabble rousing was never going to cause much damage. But I suppose if I were to do this all over again, Tony 2.0 would speak up earlier and louder. Not about everything, just the stuff that matters and as the saying goes, words matter.

My family matters. Stay the hell away from it. Don’t you dare co opt one of the greatest words in the English language for your corporate purpose. Show some bloody respect and leave ‘family’ alone!

Leave my family alone.

The radio jock was asking listeners to call in.

“So family call me, text. Let me know what your pet peeve is, what really upsets you, makes you mad. We’re here for you Now family.”

I reached for my phone. My wife told me not to call.

But now you know what I would have said.

Next week: Hair!