Three Words

by Rebecca Crichton

In my work as a facilitator, I avoid icebreakers that embarrass, expose, or otherwise reveal our weaknesses. Lately, the three-word approach intrigues me. Asking people to choose three words to describe themselves is a shorthand way to reveal everything from history to personality. They are usually easy for others to remember you by, and they might reveal something to yourself you hadn’t considered.

My parents are buried in the Fort Logan National Cemetery in Denver, Colorado. As a major in the Army in World War II, my father qualified for a military funeral and burial in a national cemetery. I am not someone who uses the word patriotic to describe myself, yet witnessing my father’s military funeral touched me. I felt the significance of his service to his life.

The seriousness with which the young soldiers— they looked like babies!—performed their choreographed movements mesmerized me. I wept when they presented my mother with the ritually folded flag honoring him.

National cemeteries are places of controlled beauty. The rows of identical headstones on Fort Logan’s 214 acres exemplify the national model of carefully tended landscapes. The gleaming white 42-inch-high marble headstones are arrayed according to a system that might have been diabolically devised to confuse.

Each headstone displays the same information: the military service and rank of the veteran, the symbol of their religious faith, followed by their name and dates of birth and death. Finally, a few words memorialize the veteran.

My mother, sister, and I struggled to find the words we wanted to describe my father. Traditional phrases of love and appreciation didn’t fit. My father was a complex man not given to sentimental statements. Stories of what felt like his insensitivity to others still sting, but we knew he loved us and felt proud of our accomplishments. We decided we wanted words that captured something essential about him. We checked at the cemetery office to make sure we could use the three-word approach. They were a bit taken aback. Clearly, our request was unusual, although it didn’t qualify as disrespectful or illegal.

We didn’t have to struggle for long. We knew that Proud, Tenacious, Determined evoked the image of strength with more than a hint of rigidity and righteousness. Each capitalized word holds its solitary meaning while creating a sense of the man beneath.

When my mother died two years later, we discovered that she could be buried above him in the deep grave. Her name, birth and death dates, and memorializing words would be on the back of the headstone. Who knew? (We didn’t joke much about the fact and meaning of my mother on top of my father.)

Now we needed another three words for my mother. It never occurred to us that the more common statements of love and caring suited her far more than they suited our father. We aspired to consistency.

As with my father, it didn’t take long to find the words that brought my mother to mind: Cherished, Gracious, Vivacious. Sure enough, people who knew my mother nod in recognition. For those who didn’t, they convey her essence.

The three-word approach works well as a shorthand way to find out about others and always surprises me when I sift through the many ways I might describe myself. It bypasses the agonized crafting of personal profiles for online connecting, whether for soul mates or satisfying job matches.

Consider the practice as an exercise in self-editing that might prepare us for how we want to be remembered. What three words would you want people to remember you by? How would you describe yourself to others if asked? What image do they conjure for you? What other words might you aspire to if the ones that come to mind feel inadequate?

My words for today are Humorous, Helpful, Insightful. I’m going to start keeping a list. I’ll turn it over to my daughter for when it comes time for her to capture me in three words.