My parents and I were tooling around Las Vegas, my home town, in my dad’s new 1970 AMC Hornet on a cool autumn day. My mother was in the passenger’s seat and I had my usual place in the back seat.

We were traveling east on Charleston Boulevard and we were just passing my favorite auto repair shop. Being five years old and a fan of Hot Wheels, the shop’s defining feature is what captured my attention: a full-size, 1960ish German-styled car teetering atop a twenty foot pole that seemed to extend to the clouds. I often wondered how they got that car up there.

As we passed the auto repair shop, my father made a comment about it. I don’t recall exactly what he said – perhaps it was about the car on a pole – but I do recall disagreeing with him.

Not anticipating the consequences, I leaned forward from my seat and blurted my reaction to his comment. I’ll never know if my blurting was improper or if my father was simply enforcing his children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard rule, but he snapped right back, “Don’t contradict me, Paul.”

Ouch! An adrenaline-filled shock wave streamed through my little body. I felt overwhelmed and stunned. I didn’t understand what my father meant by “don’t contradict me,” but it was clear that he was displeased with me. I immediately defended myself with a defensive, but genuine question, “What did I do?”

“Paul,” he repeated sternly, “You know what you did. Do not contradict me.”

Hoping for clarity and reason, I turned to my mom and asked, “Mom, what did I do?”

“Paul, don’t contradict your father,” she said dismissively.

I had reached a roadblock with my parents. I felt like that car on a pole – skewered, hoisted, and isolated from the rest of the world. I was suddenly all alone. I sank back into my seat, feeling confused and angry.

Then, in an instant, my creative mind locked onto a powerful solution. “I know,” I thought to myself. “I’ll never talk again. If they won’t listen to me, then I won’t give them anything to listen to. I’ll show them.” I silently reiterated my determination, “I’ll never talk again.”

Of course, I did talk again. But that experience in the back seat of the Hornet became a defining moment. I began to suppress my thoughts and feelings. I learned not to speak up, not to create controversy, and certainly not to contradict my father. I began the process of moving from childhood vibrancy to emotional numbness. I found comfort in isolation. I had discovered the power of invisibility. I had redefined myself and reshaped the future of my life.

Consider the following questions about your life. Post your response as a Comment or keep your answers in a private journal:

• What childhood experience might have initiated your invisibility?
• What happened and how did you handle it?
• How has that experience reshaped your life?
• How did being invisible protect you from a threatening environment?

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