I don't mean no harm but ...

When was subtlety invented? How about tactfulness?
I ask because those words didn’t exist when I was growing up. There was no tip-toeing around someone’s feelings or beating around the bush. Opinions or critiques were clear, concise and absolutely unfiltered.
I’ve seen young athletes have terrible games and then watched them get comforted by their parents.
“Oh, Sweetie, don’t worry about those two free throws you missed with one second on the clock. That wasn’t the reason the team lost by one point tonight. You did good.”
“Son, I know you went 0-for-3 at the plate with three strikeouts looking. That wasn’t on you. It was that dadgum umpire’s fault. Let’s go beat him up.”
I do believe a parent should pick a youngster up when they’re down emotionally. There were times as a child I could’ve used a little less honesty myself.
When I got cut from the basketball team in the ninth grade, my dad, thoughtfully, told me, “Boy, you know you can’t play. I don’t know why you keep trying.”
Quite the motivational speaker he was.
But that’s the way all the older people were when I was a kid. Honestly, a lot of the young folks didn’t want their parents around when they played. You think striking out with the bases loaded is depressing during the game, wait for the ride home.
Grandparents were probably the most brutal. When an old lady began a sentence, “Baby, I don’t mean no harm,” you knew some harm was about to come your way.
Old men just laughed at your shortcomings.
“That boy ain’t worth a dime,” was used often to describe a boy who wasn’t around.
“Boy, you ain’t worth a dime,” was used when the boy was standing right there.
Other colorful phrases included, “You ain’t peed a drop.” And, “You ain’t worth the powder it’d take to blow you up.”
Of course, if you excelled at something, you were given that message, too. I guess. I wouldn’t really know about that.
The point is, a world of brutal honesty wasn’t the best when it came to building confidence and self- esteem. But it wasn’t all bad, either. After all, honesty is the best policy.
When a kid strikes out three times, he doesn’t need a kick in the pants. He feels bad enough. He doesn’t need a hug and a cookie, either. He needs encouragement but a little dose of tough love never hurts.
Sugar-coating isn’t healthy. But a little tact sprinkled in with some honest criticism is probably the best way to go.
Of course, how would I know? Apparently, I ain’t peed a drop since I was eight.