Speak Softly, And Carry A Big Stick
Without Prejudice
Speak softly,and carry a big stick. So said my ancient ancestors, the Scots, I thought.
I pictured Scottish Warriors charging down hillsides of mud, bare footed and bare chested with faces covered in woad.
Boy was I wrong. This is where the saying comes from.
From The Phrase Finder
Speak Softly, Carry A Big Stick
The widespread use of 'speak softly and carry a big stick' began with American president Theodore Roosevelt. In a letter to Henry L. Sprague, on January 26th 1900, he wrote:
My ancestors, Scottish it's true, mainly were based in Birmingham and probably were just working class serfs like I am. Running down green commons to catch the number 17 bus to get to't carpet factory to earn a meagre thirty shillings a week. Twenty of which went to me mam for't board.
The reason my ancestors have thick Yorkshire accents is because me mam came from Wakefield in Yorkshire U.K. And I was born in Edinburgh where my Dad was from. Well Dad was actually a Glasgow boy born and bred, where I was born in the home of Edinburgh Castle around the corner from where Robert Louis Stevenson had lived as a boy. In his land of Counterpane.
And my Dad was a gentle quietly spoken man. A Muso, his music carried him through life. My Sister, Jackie and brother Ian play instruments and sing.Bass guitar ( Jackie ) and lead guitar Ian. Ian has asked me to Darwin River one day to join the jam session on a Friday night. And one day I will. I haven't been to Darwin for 20 years. I went when my Dad was dying from Prostate cancer. He opted out of treatment and was told he had six months, he lasted nine.
I never forget that visit but not without pain. I had a good Dad.
He was my source of speak softly carry a big stick. A complete pacifist. He won medals in the war was in the Black Watch and served his country gladly and with pride. But he would not be swayed by popular opinion or anyone else's opinion. Perhaps his beloved, Natalie, my Mother. But he had a
quiet determination that saw him win many a battle.
The first with his brutish Father, a former wrestler. Once he backhanded my Father across the room at 13 for swearing at the dinner table. Sunday dinner. My Dad bleeding hit the floor and there on the floor vowed if he had children he would never hit them and he never did.
I was always a very shy child. Extremely shy. I still am as an adult underneath but have found my voice at last and express it. People assume I am a push over wrongly.
Two weeks ago the Scottish Ancestors showed up in a surprising way via my voice and temper and I think the entire street was shocked.
We have a neighbour, bit of a weirdo, with a girlfriend who puts up with him as at 53 she is homeless. He gets drunk Saturday's and Sunday's, sings, makes strange noises, teases his dogs and works on his non existent back decor with house making chain saws and grinders. His girlfriend told him to stop it on Sunday's at least as the baby Shilo in the front house sleeps in.
That stopped him for a while.
Then as he is bi polar he refused like a lot of bi polar people to take medication anymore a few months ago.
Then he lost his job.
Then he decided he didn't want her to work.
So home everyday the two of them, no kids, grandkids at home must drive each other bonkers. Especially on what we call hangover Monday.
Yvette my daughter in the front house on this property puts up with his nit picking. I just listen and watch.
The neighbour on the other side took exception to the bi polar man running over 20" of her nature strip and complained to Council. He then received a letter threatening a fine of $2,000. He was chewing up the nature strip with his work ute when he was working.
He has 4 cars for him and her and a front garden of pebbles and cactuses. So he has to park his cars any where he can.
He likes to bully women.
So two weeks ago he puts rocks on our nature strip and three tall poles. Right next to his driveway. We have a plethora of teen boys and a plethora of cars as a result. But we have lots of room. I was parking out the front, on the road, anywhere as the boys cars changed, were worked on. Teen boys are craaaazy about cars. Two weeks down the track, coming down our street from Cranbourne East shopping centre, it was dark and raining and I had the ubiquitous P Plater, girl, speeding and right up my arse I had no where to go.
No where to park. So I cracked it.
Everyone was shocked when I went up and started yanking out the poles on our nature strip.
He approached me and grabbed the poles off me. The quiet really nice girlfriend ran inside.
" What do you think you are doing? " he said.
I exploded. I told him what I thought of him and his bullying ways for the last 12 years. I told him that it was our nature strip and he could not commandeer it. I told him and his previous girlfriend had stood arms akimbo telling off a seven year old , my Grandson, for having a few stones on the road making him cry. He said,
" Nah, that was a kid up the road "
I was polite and said no it was my grandson. There may have been words by me like Get Fucked You Imbecile, cretin, moron but I never remember what I say when my dander is up.
All I know is the poles were gone and he had retired wounded verbally by this little person. Me.
The next day he and she came over, separately, to apologise most profusely. He was drunk, apparently.
And I know now not one of them will ever cross me again. I can move people, car parts, rocks when I lose my temper. The air turns blue and I will verbally wither an enemy as I have a very good vocabulary and no longer burst into tears of emotion. I am sick to death of bullying, rudeness, hostility or being told what to do by people I consider think of themselves as Kings when they are just serfs, no better than anyone else and a lot worse than most as they have been allowed to get away with their boorish behaviour by silly simpering females that have their own gold digging agenda.
I would rather shoot myself in the foot than be like that, now
I was, once.
I stayed for the four girls which I shouldn't have, but I did.
As they grew older they didn't thank me for staying or the fact he took out his violence on them.
I lost a child, went thru a divorce from hell and became a Grandmother all at 37.
I was homeless, broke, no car, no possessions and had damaged grieving children but by sheer determination and a lot of fear, tears and damage to my mind, body emotions I made it to here. In spite of it all. My Dad always told me I was here for a reason, that he loved me and was proud of me and I was number 5 child out of 7 and a half sister.
And when he was dying I was able to say everything he had been to me and he told me everything I was to him. I was lucky, a lucky little girl from birth, but I never had to work at it. When he died I realised that unconditional love was gone from my life and my life would never be the same again.
I would no longer have that feeling of protection and unconditional love a parent provides.
So I took on the role of protector, and have never regretted it since.
Speak softly,and carry a big stick. So said my ancient ancestors, the Scots, I thought.
I pictured Scottish Warriors charging down hillsides of mud, bare footed and bare chested with faces covered in woad.
Boy was I wrong. This is where the saying comes from.
From The Phrase Finder
Speak Softly, Carry A Big Stick
Meaning
A proverb advising the tactic of caution and non-aggression, backed up by the ability to do violence if required.
Origin
The notion being expressed here is the opposite of the tactics employed by every temporary schoolteacher - who begin stern and tough and, when discipline allows it, become more easy-going. The 'speak softly...' doctrine, like the earlier phrase 'the iron fist in the velvet glove', was to begin gently, but hold a decisive weapon in reserve.
The widespread use of 'speak softly and carry a big stick' began with American president Theodore Roosevelt. In a letter to Henry L. Sprague, on January 26th 1900, he wrote:"Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far."
Roosevelt claims the phrase to be of West African origin, but I can find no corroborative evidence for that assertion. If it truly was proverbial in 1900 it ought to be easy to find earlier citations of it, but I can find none. Nor is there any record of the phrase actually being used in West Africa before Roosevelt's time. Whether Roosevelt actually believed, for whatever
reason, that the expression was West African, or whether he knew that it
wasn't and was indulging in a form of 'Confucious he say' hokum in order
reason, that the expression was West African, or whether he knew that it
wasn't and was indulging in a form of 'Confucious he say' hokum in order
to impart a degree of distinction to it, we don't know. It is certainly possible that he coined the phrase himself.
My ancestors, Scottish it's true, mainly were based in Birmingham and probably were just working class serfs like I am. Running down green commons to catch the number 17 bus to get to't carpet factory to earn a meagre thirty shillings a week. Twenty of which went to me mam for't board.
The reason my ancestors have thick Yorkshire accents is because me mam came from Wakefield in Yorkshire U.K. And I was born in Edinburgh where my Dad was from. Well Dad was actually a Glasgow boy born and bred, where I was born in the home of Edinburgh Castle around the corner from where Robert Louis Stevenson had lived as a boy. In his land of Counterpane.
And my Dad was a gentle quietly spoken man. A Muso, his music carried him through life. My Sister, Jackie and brother Ian play instruments and sing.Bass guitar ( Jackie ) and lead guitar Ian. Ian has asked me to Darwin River one day to join the jam session on a Friday night. And one day I will. I haven't been to Darwin for 20 years. I went when my Dad was dying from Prostate cancer. He opted out of treatment and was told he had six months, he lasted nine.
I never forget that visit but not without pain. I had a good Dad.
He was my source of speak softly carry a big stick. A complete pacifist. He won medals in the war was in the Black Watch and served his country gladly and with pride. But he would not be swayed by popular opinion or anyone else's opinion. Perhaps his beloved, Natalie, my Mother. But he had a
quiet determination that saw him win many a battle.
The first with his brutish Father, a former wrestler. Once he backhanded my Father across the room at 13 for swearing at the dinner table. Sunday dinner. My Dad bleeding hit the floor and there on the floor vowed if he had children he would never hit them and he never did.
I was always a very shy child. Extremely shy. I still am as an adult underneath but have found my voice at last and express it. People assume I am a push over wrongly.
Two weeks ago the Scottish Ancestors showed up in a surprising way via my voice and temper and I think the entire street was shocked.
We have a neighbour, bit of a weirdo, with a girlfriend who puts up with him as at 53 she is homeless. He gets drunk Saturday's and Sunday's, sings, makes strange noises, teases his dogs and works on his non existent back decor with house making chain saws and grinders. His girlfriend told him to stop it on Sunday's at least as the baby Shilo in the front house sleeps in.
That stopped him for a while.
Then as he is bi polar he refused like a lot of bi polar people to take medication anymore a few months ago.
Then he lost his job.
Then he decided he didn't want her to work.
So home everyday the two of them, no kids, grandkids at home must drive each other bonkers. Especially on what we call hangover Monday.
Yvette my daughter in the front house on this property puts up with his nit picking. I just listen and watch.
The neighbour on the other side took exception to the bi polar man running over 20" of her nature strip and complained to Council. He then received a letter threatening a fine of $2,000. He was chewing up the nature strip with his work ute when he was working.
He has 4 cars for him and her and a front garden of pebbles and cactuses. So he has to park his cars any where he can.
He likes to bully women.
So two weeks ago he puts rocks on our nature strip and three tall poles. Right next to his driveway. We have a plethora of teen boys and a plethora of cars as a result. But we have lots of room. I was parking out the front, on the road, anywhere as the boys cars changed, were worked on. Teen boys are craaaazy about cars. Two weeks down the track, coming down our street from Cranbourne East shopping centre, it was dark and raining and I had the ubiquitous P Plater, girl, speeding and right up my arse I had no where to go.
No where to park. So I cracked it.
Everyone was shocked when I went up and started yanking out the poles on our nature strip.
He approached me and grabbed the poles off me. The quiet really nice girlfriend ran inside.
" What do you think you are doing? " he said.
I exploded. I told him what I thought of him and his bullying ways for the last 12 years. I told him that it was our nature strip and he could not commandeer it. I told him and his previous girlfriend had stood arms akimbo telling off a seven year old , my Grandson, for having a few stones on the road making him cry. He said,
" Nah, that was a kid up the road "
I was polite and said no it was my grandson. There may have been words by me like Get Fucked You Imbecile, cretin, moron but I never remember what I say when my dander is up.
All I know is the poles were gone and he had retired wounded verbally by this little person. Me.
The next day he and she came over, separately, to apologise most profusely. He was drunk, apparently.
And I know now not one of them will ever cross me again. I can move people, car parts, rocks when I lose my temper. The air turns blue and I will verbally wither an enemy as I have a very good vocabulary and no longer burst into tears of emotion. I am sick to death of bullying, rudeness, hostility or being told what to do by people I consider think of themselves as Kings when they are just serfs, no better than anyone else and a lot worse than most as they have been allowed to get away with their boorish behaviour by silly simpering females that have their own gold digging agenda.
I would rather shoot myself in the foot than be like that, now
I was, once.
I stayed for the four girls which I shouldn't have, but I did.
As they grew older they didn't thank me for staying or the fact he took out his violence on them.
I lost a child, went thru a divorce from hell and became a Grandmother all at 37.
I was homeless, broke, no car, no possessions and had damaged grieving children but by sheer determination and a lot of fear, tears and damage to my mind, body emotions I made it to here. In spite of it all. My Dad always told me I was here for a reason, that he loved me and was proud of me and I was number 5 child out of 7 and a half sister.
And when he was dying I was able to say everything he had been to me and he told me everything I was to him. I was lucky, a lucky little girl from birth, but I never had to work at it. When he died I realised that unconditional love was gone from my life and my life would never be the same again.
I would no longer have that feeling of protection and unconditional love a parent provides.
So I took on the role of protector, and have never regretted it since.
