Don’t Tell Me, Show Me.

Thanks to some technology issues, I’ve encountered a team that apparently loves to use AI to write their emails.

Each email follows a predictable “I understand…” pattern. That would be great if it were clear they understood the problem. But they claim to understand my feelings and frustration.

They really don’t.

I want to reply, “Don’t tell me you understand, show me you understand.” The dialog is supposed to be about problem-solving, not my mental state. In this case, it would seem we’re not doing very well with either. A more effective approach could be to acknowledge the specific issue someone is facing by paraphrasing their concern, or better yet, suggesting a possible next step.

For example, instead of writing, “I understand your frustration,” it would be more helpful to say, “I see that your websites are experiencing lengthy outages and I realize how disruptive that is. Here are the steps I’m taking to resolve it.” This kind of response is more genuine and gives the conversation direction.

Admittedly, I’ve always had a bias toward empathy. Keeping it simple, even if we have walked down the exact same path, you weren’t wearing my shoes. Claiming you understand can come across as patronizing, particularly if you’re not actively listening. It feels like you’re invalidating my feelings and trying to make it about you!

We used to call it boilerplate when we developed standardized answers to inquiries or complaints. The obvious hazard of boilerplate is its mechanical nature. As we increasingly depend on AI and bots. AI doesn’t know how to do that. In some respects, that’s reassuring.

Repotting My Work: A Renewed Focus on Writing

Socrates

Well, I may have jumped the gun. Actually, several times. You may have noticed the new header image. There’s more coming!

Much has happened over the past few years, and it has presented a huge opportunity to repot myself. (Repotting, in this case, means growing in a different place.) This new place comes with a strong focus on writing.

My online presence — this site and social media — will catch up to where I am now. Things may appear a little disorganized for a while. Stay tuned.

The Grange: More than a Place

This article was published in the April 2026 Issue of the Guilford Register.

© 2026, Walter Boomsma

One of my greatest pleasures in life is attempting to explain the origins and purpose of this organization called “the Grange” to excited third graders as part of our “Words for Thirds” program. I start by attempting to determine what they already know about the Grange, and I’ll always remember the young girl who waved her hand enthusiastically and announced, “I was born there.”

It took a little thinking to realize she’d heard me say “LaGrange” – one of the small, rural communities here in Maine. Her answer was certainly amusing, but it was also insightful and telling. Like the organization she was learning about, she was proud of her roots and heritage. She announced her connection and kinship to LaGrange just as enthusiastically as I announce my connection to the Grange.

For those unfamiliar with it, the Grange, officially known as the Patrons of Husbandry, was founded in 1867 to revitalize American agriculture and foster a sense of belonging among rural families following the Civil War. By establishing local Granges, the organization provided a vital social hub that offered educational lectures, cooperative buying power to lower costs, and a rare space for men, women, and youth to participate equally. This focus on mutual aid and collective improvement transformed isolated farmsteads into tight-knit networks, cementing the Grange as a cornerstone of rural social life and civic engagement for over a century.

A sense of connection often attracts people to small-town rural America. But even small towns are experiencing a “social disconnect” as things like regional school systems and social media change the traditional model of community. We now have cell phones, tablets, and computers to stay “connected” with people – in many cases, people we rarely see and certainly can’t touch.

But beneath all the communicating, we still want to see people – to touch and be touched – and to feel a part of something. People will claim their families are going “in a million different directions” but not really consider why. Some of it must be the search for connections and a sense of belonging. At the Grange, families find unity, shared purpose, and a sense of community regardless of geographic boundaries. Being from “LaGrange” is not enough. Being from “the Grange” offers more.

The Grange, with its fundamental principles and practices, is one place where the entire family can not only be together but also feel connected to other like-minded people and families. The Grange’s rich heritage as an organization with shared values and missions remains relevant today. One hundred years ago, it was about farmers coming together and overcoming rural isolation. Today, it is about a larger and redefined community, but it is still about coming together and overcoming isolation.

In a study, psychologists McMillan and Chavis identified the four elements required for a “sense of community:” 1) membership, 2) influence, 3) fulfillment of needs, and 4) shared emotional connection. An in-depth study isn’t required to see how an active Grange contributes to those elements and builds a sense of community. From potluck suppers to community service projects, Grange members and friends feel a sense of kinship and demonstrate a cooperative spirit.

There are several crucial factors that distinguish the Grange from other civic and community organizations. The family orientation is one notable difference. Grange families find occasions when they don’t go in a million directions. Another is the diversity of programming and interests. The Grange offers social, economic, and educational benefits to all. You can’t be born there, but you can belong.

I Wasn’t Really Serious

I do seriously admire the work of Maine Author Tim Cotton. (I am serious about that.) Tim is a retired Bangor Police lieutenant, author, and social media personality famous for his witty, heartwarming posts about law enforcement and life in Maine. He recently shared some insightful thoughts about what people post on Facebook. Since he mentioned not getting any raisins in a bowl of Raisin Bran, he tickled my sense of humor. So, with my tongue in my cheek, I added the following comment.

Do you suppose the day will come when obituaries include, “The deceased lived an active life scrolling and posting on Facebook?”

I wasn’t really serious. Once more comments were added, I realized I may have been. It doesn’t take long to discover some people seem to live on Facebook. If it means that much to them, why not include it in one’s final legacy? Apparently, I struck a chord because several people thanked me for the idea. Unfortunately, I can’t tell if their tongue was in their cheek when they replied.

Social media is redefining the word “friend,” so I am using it here advisedly. I seem to have several “friends” who spend every waking moment searching for politically related posts to share. Others are anxious to share their medical issues and seek medical advice. Some post cute photos of puppies and kittens. I rarely respond directly. Are they friends with me or friends with Facebook? Perhaps instead of waiting until “death do them part” from their phone, Facebook could offer some participation awards. “He who spends the most time on Facebook wins.”

Oh, wait, they do. I’ve received several “top fan” badges. I’m never sure why, but I think it relates to the number of comments I’ve made on a particular page. It’s some sort of participation trophy. I wasn’t striving for it. I haven’t figured out Facebook’s algorithms, but I know that’s how they decide what I get to see. I find some irony in the fact that the most recent one I was granted involved an organization I frequently criticize. So, in addition to redefining “friend,” Facebook is now redefining “fan.”

I suspect the quality of our participation in Facebook–all social media, really–is a non-issue for them. All that really matters is we just keep scrolling and clicking “like.” I can’t prove this, but I think that if you hesitate while scrolling, Facebook considers that interest. I recently received a notice on Facebook about a ballroom dancing class in another state that I’m interested in. I’m not sure what I did to deserve that notice.

Some of my “friends” are helping my participation by tagging me in posts and “highlighting” posts that I’m not interested in, but they think it increases their chance of winning something. They also assume they’ll get another star in their heavenly crown if they share missing children announcements that are actually nothing more than clickbait.

I could go on.

Facebook is probably one of the least understood communication vehicles we have available to us. It, and social media in general, serve some valuable purposes—one reason these platforms have been so readily adopted. Personally, I don’t plan to promote it in my obituary. And I hope my involvement in social media isn’t my legacy.

An interesting exercise, maybe an AI program could do this–Facebook is doing it, but they probably won’t share the results, would be to write a description of you and your interests based solely on your social media activity. If you’re willing to think about that, you may find it creates perspective. I’m undecided whether a person’s perspective is apparent on Facebook or lost there. And that begs the question of whether or not it’s an accurate portrayal.

Years ago, a popular icebreaker for new groups was to ask what two words people wanted on their gravestone. Beyond the basic data, some gravestones include an epitaph. Obituaries tend to report a person’s involvement. You may not want to write or plan either, but thinking about them can reveal perspective–or better yet, help create it. “Here lies Joe. He departed this world, leaving behind over 1,000 Facebook Friends.”

Seth Godin recently noted that smartphones want our attention–as much of it as they can get. “It does that by bringing the outside world to wherever you are, piercing the intimacy of here and the magic of now by persistently creating anxiety or fear or satisfaction, again and again and again.”

How’s your relationship with your smartphone and social media? Who are you, and how are you spending your time and energy? Relationship quality should be an issue. You do have choices.


This article also appears in the March Issue of The Guilford Register.

Because learning should be fun—and life is the best teacher