Comes to mind the stroll I often took in my growing up
years. We lived in Ulysses, a farming and light industrial town in far
Southwest Kansas. Our house was on the corner, one block off of Main Street and
the four stoplights that controlled it. In a town of 3,500 or so, that was no
problem, except those who spent hours "dragging main" used the block
adjacent as their turn-around. But that was a small inconvenience and my dad's
patrol car was often parked in the back, giving an instinctive brake-check to
the High School-age drivers.
Since the town was small I did a lot of walking. We could
be to school in 8 blocks or so: to the bank, grocery, general store, library,
hospital, and a local park in less. The main grocery store was a mere two
blocks away and before it was a small lumber yard with long, low yard buildings
parallel to the street. What brings this to mind is a lot of pleasant, and some
not so much. Today I'll consider the not so much.
I remember walking along beside that low building, not two
blocks from my house, heading home, early evening. Who knows why I was there --
perhaps an errand to get a grocery item for Mom. Or maybe walking home from
hunter safety course at the Law Enforcement Center in Court House Square one
block behind me.
Whatever the case, I saw rocks on the ground, picked them up, and tossed them over my head like a hook shot. I was aiming for the windows of that lumber yard shed. And I hit them. Several of them.
These were old single pane, glazing and grid and all. But
windows. Someone had paid good money and worked hard to install them. Someone
would have to replace them and soon, for broken windows are bad for many
reasons.
Who held me to account? Only my conscience, and without
good training it would fail me. Who would make it right? No one, unless
authorities caught me and made me pay. A few years later I did send them some
money. That's another story, and right, but I doubt I sent enough. In today's
money the damages would be worth $100 per window at minimum. Today, the old
building is long gone. Was it any big deal?
Of course it was. If we measure justice according to
"whose ox is getting gored" we quickly know when there is a wrong.
The lumberyard suffered wrong. It matters not any explanation. I took from them
and owed.
This is as real as life but it came to mind as I thought
how easy it is in this world to tear down. For my part I am sure I was
"acting out" some kind of inner strife or anger, for such is the
human lot, though it does not make my actions right. But in other matters we
often tear things down out of frustration: "It ain't working right -- get
rid of it!" And that is always easier than finding a solution.
"Anything is better than what we have now."
"Really? What do you propose?"
And so dies the discussion. This is the French Revolution.
This is most revolutions, I suggest. The miracle of the so-called
"American Revolution" is that it broke the rules of revolutions and
certainly was not tearing things down as an end in itself. Rooted in common
folk and citizen-soldiers grounded in the land, we built something on an idea
that amazed the world in time and gave us a treasured civilization.
Do we have problems? Is that even a serious question?
Too easily we throw stones because of our own problems or
perceived problems in the civilized order, such as it is. This is not noble of
itself and is easily ignoble. Throwing stones is easy. Anyone can do it.
Breaking those windows was a piece-of-cake, even made me feel triumphant. But
it tore down. It did not build.
We can agree that all fault-finding is not destructive. But
what can we do to build instead of tear down? What solution do we have to
remedy that which we declare wrong?
And perhaps most of all, what real serious attention are we
giving to repair and strengthen our own personal character? Any one can throw a
stone. But as the old song would remind us, "It's me, it's me, it's me O
Lord, standin' in the need of prayer."
Fix yourself and you have a lifetime job that pays back in
spades and blesses the world. Throw stones and you degrade yourself while
hurting another. It is not a good strategy for the good life, for the
neighborhood, or for a civilization that blesses the world.
The intersection near where I did the vandalism. The lumberyard was in top left quadrant. |
My beloved boyhood home. |
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