Feature Article On Listening...and Adrienne by Roy Friedman

Adrienne died a few years ago. She was my wife's best friend since childhood. They grew up together in the Bronx. 

After college, Adrienne lived in Philadelphia. She was a social worker/therapist. Then she became a singer/songwriter - sort of a cross between The Momma's & The Papa's and Harry Chapin. She had a fascinating voice, and great stories to tell. Then she went to law school - ultimately becoming a partner in a major real estate firm in New York. But she never much cared whether rich people got richer. When she died of cancer in her early 40's, she was dreaming of getting a PhD in psychology.

Adrienne was the best damn listener I've ever met. Although only a little snippet of a woman, she was a giant of a listener. I still picture her leaning forward …elbows on knees…hands under chin…eyes riveted to mine…hearing every word…understanding…really getting my "me."

At her funeral, there were a string of friends who all seemed to tell the same story - "…on Tuesdays, at 3:30 while waiting to pick up our daughters from ballet class, Adrienne was my best friend…" How did she do it? Why did everyone think that they were an integral part of her life? How can you be an intimate friend of…everyone? Simple - listen. Period.

Listening is a particular challenge for me. At our family dinners, if you didn't butt in and jump on board, the freight train of the table conversation just passed you by. So listening became something you half-did. The other half involved shaping the perfect retort…polishing it…getting it out into the flow of the table chatter - all done in an instant. It's a wonder we even approximated a coherent flow of conversation. One-upmanship begat one-upmanship - it was mother's milk. 

Every so often we'd trot out:
"…that's not what I said…"
"…it's exactly what you said…"
"…well, it's not what I meant…"
We were so busy grandstanding, we didn't pay a lot of attention to what anyone meant. It was the triumph of banter over substance. 

Adrienne didn't banter. She just appeared curious about everything and everyone. Rather than impressing you with her knowledge and wisdom, she readily admitted whatever it was she didn't understand, and asked you to explain it. Often she'd sit in perfect silence, which encouraged you to expand or go deeper into the matter at hand. When you ran out of energy, she would restate what you had said to make sure she really understood. Then she'd ask, "Well, how do you feel about it?"

Although she was a great friend, her interest in the people of her life seemed as much about curiosity as about support. She was genuinely interested in (to borrow Terri Levine's phrase) "how we chose to be experiencing our lives." The support was a constant, running in the background.

She rarely offered advice. Rarely had an opinion. She just heard - not just the words…but the subtle nuances that build meaning. She heard pauses. She heard shifts of energy. She noticed if you looked down…or smiled… She was there with you.

A chat with Adrienne resembled the magic of live theater where the performer would feed off the "energy" of the audience.

Adrienne listened. We felt heard - really HEARD. 

Even though I didn't have the words then, Adrienne was the perfect personal coach. Much of the listening skills I possess as a coach, I modeled after her.

Years have passed. I still miss her.


Roy Friedman can be reached at royfriedma@aol.com. He offers a free 30-minute sample coaching session. This article was originally published in The Coaching Scoop and is reprinted with permission of the author.