The Feather

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Both of your great grandfathers, Schaefer and Cottrell, were very successful in their chosen fields – law and insurance.  No doubt, part of the reason is that they were good at what they did, but I am going to suggest that another element played a major part.  They both exhibited and maintained a strong commitment to integrity throughout their lives.  If I were to categorize the most important qualities a person can have, integrity, by its mere definition, would have to be at the top. 

“Adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.”

Think about it.  How significant is that others respect you and, most of all, can believe what you say?  And, conversely, how damaging can it be when your words and actions erode your integrity to the point that no one can take you seriously.

Both Schaefer and Cottrell were Rotarians.  The Rotary Club is an international service organization that draws leaders from communities worldwide into its membership in an effort to make those communities stronger and better for all.  As members, Rotarians use what is called the Four-Way Test of the things they think, say or do as a moral code in their personal and business relationships.  The test actually originated with a man named Herbert Taylor in the 1930’s, but was later adopted by Rotary International as a part of its creed. It’s very simple and goes like this:

Whenever faced with a decision or action in your dealings with others, ask these four questions of yourself.  If you can answer “yes,” then what you are about to do will create the positive outcome you seek.

1.       Is it the truth?

2.      Is it fair to all concerned?

3.      Will it build good will and better friendships?

4.      Will it be beneficial to all concerned?

We all live in a world overstimulated by 24-hour news channels, the internet, and social media – even Meemaw participates regularly on FaceBook. As wonderful as it is to have information at our fingertips all the time, I would caution you that this environment is rife with opportunity to circulate false information about people and situations. Sometimes I see postings and really think that if the person had just measured the content against the Four-Way Test, they might have considered not putting it up for publication under their name.

The even deeper consideration here is how should someone respond when they know something being set out as the truth actually isn’t……..or, in other words…….lacks integrity.  If we do or say nothing, do we in fact become complicit in the very spread of the untruth until it gains such momentum that there is no stopping it?  In answer to this question, I would like to share a fable with you to illustrate the consequence of fostering falsehoods, or repeating stories before properly vetting their voracity. 

There once was a man who, having learned that he had spread a false rumor, sought the advice of a wise man.

“Why do you seek my help?” the wise man asked.

“Because I heard someone say something bad about a person I know…. and I took it to be the truth without further investigation….. and I began telling those that I saw…..and now, I am sorry to learn that what I repeated had no merit.  I am here to ask what can I do to make the situation right.”

The wise man pondered for a second and then instructed the man to go find a feather pillow and tear it apart.  Upon doing so, he was to take a feather and put it on the doorstep of each person to whom he had spoken this untruth.  After completing the task, he was to report back to the wise man.

With great fervor, the man did as he was told, trying to remember everybody with whom he had spoken, not wanting to miss a single one.  When he was finished, he came back to the wise man.

“I have done what you said.”

“Good,” the wise man responded.  “Now, go back and pick up all of the feathers and bring them to me.”

The man left in haste and retraced his steps. Alas, he could not find a single feather.  They had all been blown asunder by the wind.  He returned to the wise man in dejection.

“I could not retrieve any of the feathers,” he sadly admitted to the wise man.

“I know……and, just like the feathers, your words are scattered to places that you will never know and you can never take them back.”

 And, so, boys….whenever you find yourselves in the situation of deciding to pass along information either verbally or on social media that you get from others…..remember the Four-Way Test and the feather.  If you do, I think your integrity will stay intact.

I'm Not Normally A Tree Hugger

Dear Boo and Bubble,

The other morning at breakfast, Captain and I were discussing a recent kerfuffle that caused quite an upheaval in the town of Mt. Dora, FL, where we are spending our winter.  Apparently, the previous city council voted to uproot some old oak trees that had for years lined the main streets in the heart of the historic shopping area.  From what we have heard, the rationale behind this action was that some of the trees were dying and their root systems were breaking up the sidewalks.  They were to be replaced with palm trees (and, after all, isn’t Florida known for its palms?) with repair and reconfiguration of the sidewalks to create more space for pedestrians.

Sounds logical, doesn’t it?  Except that there was a faction that LOVED and ADORED those old oak trees.  They became so emotional about them that it resulted in a rebellion of sorts.  Petitions circulated with the title of “Save Our Trees.”  Groups tied ribbons around the trees as if to mark them for preservation.  In the end, the movement gained political purpose and candidates offered to run in retaliation.  The net result was the ouster of a majority of the council and the mayor.

The whole incident spawned some contemplation from Captain as he spooned his scrambled eggs into his mouth. “Why is it that normally reasonable people attach emotionally to something and it consumes them?”

I’m not sure whether he was sincerely seeking an answer from me or just being rhetorical, but I gave him one anyway.  “Because emotion is so much more powerful than reason.  I mean, think about it…….when was the last time you heard someone say that they were overcome with thought….or that their heart exploded from logic?”  

  

Still, it seems so frustrating when things spiral into an emotional state.  It’s sort of like a defenseless battery against a tsunami.  You just have to let the wave hit and pick up the pieces afterwards. 

I did find some interesting advice on the subject of disagreements in one of the journals of your great, great, great, great grandfather Joseph Benson Cottrell.  Because of his 1880’s writing style, it’s a little hard to decipher - and probably even more so to implement – but, I think it’s something we all should consider.

“The most evident things to mind are such as are vital to life and character.  Truth is immediately the illumination of mind, and not mediately through any verbal statement thereof.  What is truth? That which a man troweth – that which a man thinketh.  But there are variant methods of mind.  That which is intuitive in the reason is ungain sayable; the deductions of the logical understanding are equally so, provideth, that terms are of the same significancy to those wguiho have commerce of thought.  Whenever, therefore, there is disagreement, it is wise to forbear, wise to preserve the profoundest respectfulness, and prove or verify the terms in which the essay of agreement is endeavored; for it is only as agreement in truth is sought that minds are competent to combined or co-ordinate action in the discovery of truth; and mind only acts worthily of truth as it accommodates itself to mind objective from itself, and allows itself acted upon as well as endeavors for the sake of truth and not for victory to act upon that with which it is engaged.  It is by far a more masterly exhibition of the qualities of true manhood to preserve the dignity of genuine benevolence in a failure to agree than to silence an adversary by a pitiless pelting of apparent syllogisms through mere tact and strategy.”

It Pays To Be A Good Looking Man

Dear Boo and Bubble,

The recollections of Great Granddaddy Schaefer’s bout with lung cancer that I last wrote about reminded me of at least one humorous occasion during that time……..although when it happened, I didn’t think it was so funny.

Even as he made progress from the depths of his illness, Granddaddy still had to be in the hospital because of his overall weakness.  His condition required assistance for the most basic functions.  As much as possible, your Uncle Gene and I spelled each other sitting with him and making sure his needs were met.  Because of his work, Gene would come to the hospital mid-afternoon.  I took most morning shifts.

Most of the time everything went fine and I could manage.   Every now and then, though, something happened that required help from the nursing staff.  One particular day, right after lunch and just before Uncle Gene was to arrive, Granddaddy alerted me that he had to go to the bathroom.  I tried to get him up and to the toilet, but was too late.  All of the medications and chemo-therapy had wreaked havoc with his system and he just couldn’t help it.  

I told him to lay still and I’d go down to the nurse’s station to get somebody, which I promptly did.  When I registered the situation with the nurse behind the desk, she told me she’d send someone in to take care of it.  I returned to the room…….and waited.  When nothing happened, I pushed the patient buzzer at Granddaddy’s bed.

“Yes?” a voice crackled over the intercom.

“We need some help in Mr. Kendrick’s room.  He’s had an accident in the bed and I can’t clean him up.”

“We know,” came a response that I thought rather cold.  “We’ll have someone there shortly.”

Again, we waited.  Nothing.

I proceeded to march down the hall to the station again, all in a frump.  Nobody was there.  I roamed the hall looking for anybody I could find and finally lassoed some poor unsuspecting nurse’s aide leaving another patient’s room.  Never letting go of her elbow, I funneled her into Granddaddy’s room.  She was quite mortified and immediately went to work cleaning him and his bed. 

 

Shortly after that, I knew that Uncle Gene had appeared because I could hear his voice barreling down the hall.

“Hey, how you doin’?” he said to somebody. “Are you having a good day?”  “Wonderful!”

His footsteps drew new and he flung the door open, handsome face and broad, toothy smile on display.  

“How’s it goin’ in here?” he asked.  “Dad, I brought you a sandwich from Vince Perone’s.  Figured you’re probably ready for something more substantial than hospital food.”

Granddaddy’s eyes lit up and he laughed loudly.

I hopped up and couldn’t wait to tell Gene what we had just been through.  But……..before I could even open my mouth, a nurse poked her head in the door.

“Does Mr. Kendrick need anything?”

“Not now!” I huffed.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure.” And she blithely left.

As I started once again to report the horrible episode, there was a knock on the door.

 

“Yes?”

“I’m just checking on Mr. Kendrick,” another nurse nuzzled her way into the room.  “We don't want him uncomfortable.”  

She had the audacity to come in and fluff his pillow and while she did so, ANOTHER nurse stuck her head in to say some other blathering thing about Granddaddy’s care.

It took me a minute or two to figure it out.  While Granddaddy was totally eating up all the attention and Gene seemed oblivious, it became utterly apparent to me that the nurses were there to flirt with my good looking brother!

I don’t remember for sure, but I think I left ….. hopefully not in a snit, but probably…..more than likely….. the NERVE of those nurses…..well…..I guess……I can sort of see their point......and, I knew that.....no matter how nice I might be to them.....I would never get the same treatment.