|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
June 11, 2001Dear
Gabby,
Father’s
Day is coming up soon, and although it’s the day we’re supposed to honor our
fathers, mine isn’t worthy of honor. He
deserted my mom and our family for another woman, breaking all his vows and we
hardly ever see him anymore. Gabby,
why does God say to honor someone who is dishonorable?
Dishonoring
in Delaware Dear
Dishonoring,
I
had a lovely chat with handsome old, blue-eyed Jimmy Cooper recently.
I’m
usually really busy with my volunteer and church activities, but last month, I
attended the Ice Cream Social sponsored by my retirement community.
That cute little Carol-Ann Edwards always works so hard on the monthly
social, planning a theme and then hanging crepe paper and balloons to match.
Once a year, in May, she invites the neighboring town’s retirement
community to join us. May’s
social is always well attended by both communities.
(Single males and females never get too old to be interested in other
eligible ladies and gentlemen, you know.) So
I went last month and, lo and behold, there was Jimmy Cooper, the young man
who’d confused me so much when we were teenagers.
And he was just as handsome and kind in his old age as I remember his
being before. Jimmy
was a couple of years older than I was¾which
means he’s basically ancient now! He
was always a soft-spoken and polite young man, which wasn’t all that unusual
for boys earlier in that other century. What
was unusual was that Jimmy was so
respectful to his own father, Bud Cooper. Bud
was the town drunk. His wife Jane
was always sporting a black eye or a bruised cheek.
“I’m just so clumsy,” she’d say sheepishly to the ladies when
she’d come into the General Store from her shack just outside of town, her
face reddening underneath the black and blue marks.
No one believed it, of course, but they pretended to¾for
her sake. When
Jimmy’s other brother Buddy turned into the town’s “bad boy,”
deflowering as many young ladies as he could charm away from their parents,
going to prison, and ultimately, dying drunk in a middle-of-the-night car crash,
people weren’t surprised. What
could you expect? You’d assume
that any Cooper boy would grow up to raise Cain. But
then there was Jimmy. Unlike
Buddy’s rebellion and Jane’s sheepish lies, he always spoke respectfully to
his father and mother. When Bud was
drunk and loudly threatening violence, Jimmy refused to answer him the same way.
When Buddy mocked Jimmy, trying to convince him to play pranks on their
father when he had passed out on the sofa, Jimmy quietly refused.
Even when Bud gave Jimmy bruises on his face to match his mother’s,
Jimmy was respectfully silent. I
couldn’t understand Jimmy at all. If
anyone had the right to disrespect his father, it was Jimmy.
But nobody ever saw him be anything but kind to old, drunk Bud Cooper.
Many
times through the years, I’d been confused and even bothered by his example,
but there was never a good time to ask him about it.
He married Betsy Wallace, the pastor’s daughter, the year I graduated
from high school, and they moved to Kentucky.
I married my dear Harry a few years later and stayed right here in our
own hometown. The only time I ever
saw Jimmy as an adult (before last month) was at the funeral of his father and
that was just before the war, if I remember correctly. So,
there we were, exchanging surprised hellos at last month’s Ice Cream Social.
We ended up chatting the entire evening, catching up on each other’s
lives over our lemonade and banana splits.
I told him about my years with Harry and all about our families.
He told me how he and Betsy had been married for 48 years, how she died,
and how he was the grandfather of nine and the great-grandfather of two. I told him about my volunteer work and about this column of
mine. He told me about his decision
to move back to the area of his childhood.
The
only lull in our conversation came when we both realized that our banana splits
were melting and we’d better eat them in a hurry or they’d turn into banana
cream soup! Right after that was
when I brought up the question that had been niggling my mind for the better
part of a century. “So,
Jimmy,” I said, wiping a drip of ice cream off my chin, “do you mind if I
ask you a personal question?” “Not
at all, Gabby,” he said, winking a blue eye at me.
“At our age, we have very little that’s personal anymore.” “I’ve
always wondered,” I began slowly, “about your relationship with your father.
I never heard of his being anything but mean to you¾or
anyone else, for that matter¾but
you never seemed to treat him the same way.
Why not?” “Do
you remember Maude Dixon?” he asked me. “Old
Maude, the Sunday School teacher?” I said, remembering a gray-haired lady with
feathers in her hat. “Yes,
that was she,” he answered and then continued.
“Well, she had a soft spot in her heart for me when I was a little guy.
She told me later it was because I winked at her once when she was
embarrassed after tripping on the boardwalk, but I certainly don’t remember
it. I couldn’t have been more
than five years old at the time.” “So
what did Maude do?” “Well,”
he said, “it was after my pet squirrel had died and I was feeling sad. I told her about it one Sunday morning outside the church.
And I said to her that I’d wanted my squirrel to live a long time.
She asked me a question I remember to this day.
She said, ‘Jimmy, do you want
to live a long time?’ ‘Yes,
ma’am,’ I answered. “Well,
you certainly have done that,” I interrupted him. He
smiled. “ ‘Jimmy,’ she said to me, looking very serious, ‘the way you
live a long life is to honor your father and mother. That’s the first commandment that ends with a promise for
the person who follows it.’ Then
she opened up the Bible and pointed to the place where the fifth commandment was
printed. And even though I
couldn’t read at the time, seeing the words printed there somehow helped them
to penetrate my mind.” “But
your father wasn’t an honorable man,” I said, followed by a quick, “I’m
sorry.” “That’s
okay, Gabby,” he replied, “it’s true.
My father wasn’t honorable and he treated his family abominably.” “So
then, why…?” I began. “Because
I honestly believed that if I would be respectful to him, God would give me a
long life. And I was right,
although it was later, when I became an adult that I understood why it
worked.” “Okay,
I’ll bite,” I said with a smile, drinking the very last drop of my lemonade.
“Why did it work?” “When
someone grows up honoring the first adults in his life, it provides an example
for him to honor and respect all of the other people he comes in contact with.
He learns at an early age to live respectfully and honorably¾and
people who live that way typically don’t do things that destroy their
lives.” “Like
your brother Buddy.” “Right.
Like Buddy,” he said, sadness crossing his handsome face.
“Buddy died early because he dishonored himself by drinking, he
dishonored the other people who could’ve been hurt in the car crash, and even
dishonored the law throughout his life.” I
ordered us another lemonade. “I
have to tell you, Jimmy,” I said, “I’ve never in my life thought about the
commandment of honoring your father and mother from the benefit to me.
I’ve always thought of it as what I did for them.” “I
agree. Most people think of it that
way. I would’ve too, if it
weren’t for old Maude Dixon.” “Compared
to us,” I said with a grin, “Maude was a spring chicken!” “You
have a point there,” he said, laughing. And
that, my dear Dishonoring, is why you
should honor your father. Not because he deserves
it, but because you deserve it!
And maybe some day, you can be laughing with an attractive member of the opposite sex
when you’re in your ninth decade of life, too. Sincerely
Sincere, ninetyandnine.com ©2001,
ninetyandnine.com ---------
Gabrigail VanBurden has been offering advice for longer than most of you have been alive. Email your practical Apostolic life questions to Gabby@ninetyandnine.com and be prepared for some straight answers!
|
|
|
