The Day I Quit Saying I was "Starving"

My boss adopted a little boy from an orphanage in China earlier this year. Through his adoption process and since his son has arrived, he has been told many stories about orphanages and I have the opportunity to hear of them through him.

Monday night he shared this story:

One of his friends went to work at an orphanage in Turkey. It was in poor condition and could only afford to feed the children twice a day.Sometimes only once a day.

Every single meal was the exact same thing.

It was not what many of us would ever choose to eat: a bowl of bland, nasty oatmeal mush. My boss clarified it definitely wasn’t any apples and cinnamon kinda flavor from Quaker like we’re accustomed to.

But, these children were truly starving so they never complained or hesitated when the food was available. In fact, they would scarf it down to ensure it makes it into their own stomach before perhaps an older or larger kid could come and snag it. When these children are so hungry and eat the food so fast, it can upset their stomach and make them sick.

The next thing my boss said brought up a mental image that broke my heart and burdened my soul.

His friend witnessed a child who ate too quickly, got sick and threw up his food.As soon as that happened, without any hesitation, all of the children rushed over and began eating the child’s vomit filled with the food.

At that point my boss closed his story saying “And the day I heard that story is the last day I ever said I was ‘starving.’”

I echo his conviction.    
                                                                                        

From Monday night onward, I shall never say that I am “starving” again.

Think about how often we throw that word – “starving” – around when we’re late to eat something from our over-flowing pantries and fridges stocked full of food.

How offensive and insensitive that is.

For many of us in America and around the world, we have never come close to starving.

But, according to the World Food Program, 925 million people do not have enough to eat. They also say that 10.9 million children under five die in developing countries each year. Malnutrition and hunger-related diseases cause 60 percent of the deaths.

They are starving.

I am a word nerd as a former communication major. I believe that words and the ways we use them are powerful.

So are the ways we mis-use them. Like saying we're "starving" when we really aren't. If we are not going to donate money to fight hunger or hand deliver food to them, I think the very very least we can do is change our vocabulary to be a bit more sensitive.

I hope that after reading this, you'll join my boss and I to quit saying you're "starving." 

The Voice You Hear When You Read Silently - an awesome poem

The Voice You Hear When You Read Silently

- Thomas Lux

is not silent, it is a speaking-
out-loud voice in your head: is it spoken,
a voice is saying it
as you read. It's the writer's words,
of course, in a literary sense
his or her voice, but the sound
of that voice is the sound of your voice.
Not the sound your friends know
or the sound of a tape played back
but your voice
caught in the dark cathedral
of your skull, your voice heard
by an internal ear informed by internal abstracts
and what you know by feeling,
having felt. It is your voice
saying, for example, the word barn
that the writer wrote
but the barn you say
is a barn you know or knew. The voice
in your head, speaking as you read,
never says anything neutrally — some people
hated the barn they knew,
some people love the barn they know
so you hear the word loaded
and a sensory constellation
is lit: horse-gnawed stalls,
hayloft, black heat tape wrapping
a water pipe, a slippery
spilled chirr of oats from a split sack,
the bony, filthy haunches of cows. . . .
And barn is only a noun — no verb
or subject has entered into the sentence yet!
The voice you hear when you read to yourself
is the clearest voice: you speak it
speaking to you.