My Dad, I am certain, thought that the end of society would come very, very soon. I am sure that he did not understand how I, his son, along with the rest of his children, had somehow figured out a way to survive in such a disfigured world. Because we did not see our world through his eyes, we were not limited by the boundaries of his world view. We didn’t have to adjust anything; we just lived in our world. The rubber band of our lives had not yet been stretched to its limits as had his. My Dad’s world had reached the breaking point. Mine hadn’t. Yet, we somehow were living in the same place.
My Dad and those of his generation lived by this code: a man’s word is his bond. I had a close friend who as a high school drop-out went on to become a self-made millionaire in the car business. He once told me that, many years ago, he frequently bought and sold cars valued in the hundreds of thousands of dollars with no more guaranty of payment than a hand shake. If someone looked you squarely in the eye, and cemented the deal with a firm handshake… that was all it took. The deal was done. As a matter of fact, he went on to say that if he would have required a written agreement, it would have been viewed as an insult to the other man’s word, which was equivalent to his honor, and thus the deal would have been off. Once a man had given “his word” to another, each could trust the other; it was done.
The power of this kind of trust was so great that to be disloyal to this trust would have been unthinkable. To this friend of mine, a betrayal of trust was the most painful experience one could ever know. Trust me, I was with this man during one such time of betrayal, and words cannot express, and it is impossible for me to ever truly know, the depth of conjoined anger and sorrow this man experienced. It was incomprehensible to him that someone once given the privilege and allowed into the circle of trust would ever knowingly betray that relationship.
Perhaps, so long ago, people trusted each other because they had to. However, now we don’t need each other as much. We can get along without our neighbor. I sometimes receive a helping hand from my next door neighbor. Sometimes he provides much needed assistance. I am always very grateful. However, I cannot help but feel somehow strange. What if one day he needs a hand, and I cannot help? If I have been blessed by the kindness of another, I must from then on be constantly aware of the needs of my neighbor so that I may repay the kindness. I now have a new responsibility, and who needs that? In the world of my past, to not do so would be an unthinkable affront to the unwritten code. To be the benefactor of a helping hand makes me beholden to my neighbor, and my deed of repayment must be equal to or exceed his deed, lest I remain beholden to him still. No decent man leaves those kinds of debts un-repaid.
I remember seeing my Dad recoil at the request of a store clerk for identification when he was writing a check. Today, I thank the clerk for checking for ID. What is the difference? My Dad was insulted to think that anyone would question “his” signature. I have seen him refuse to provide ID, turn and walk away, leaving his purchase on the counter. I on the other hand am grateful that the clerk tries to verify my identity. I want them to check everyone. My hope is that when someone tries to steal my identity that a vigilant clerk will be at the ready and will refuse the transaction. I am so distrustful of everyone and am so convinced that the crazies are everywhere, that I want the clerks to check everyone. It is not a matter of if I will become a victim of identity theft, but when.
So, what are we to do? Our children have rebelled against the virtues of my past. Please don’t take that to mean that our children are bad; they’re not. It’s just how it works. They rebel against those virtues of my past because of their perspective and experience. Likewise, you can rest assured that my grandchildren will to an equal extent rebel against behaviors deemed virtuous today. I see nothing to indicate that this generational progression (some would call it regression) will in any way decelerate.
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