Thursday, May 13, 2004
My father's pump
The path from porch to well was worn by years
of steady use, although the house could boast
of running water long ago. The neck
and handle—rough with age--stood hard against
the gentle garden colors just beyond.
She watched him haul the buckets, one a side
to keep his balance, and shook her head. “The need
to carry pails from outdoors in has passed.”
He stopped, a foot atop the lower step,
and smiled at her. “I suppose that’s true,” he said.
He reached the upper step and sat beside
her, put the pails aside, and held her hand
in his.
Her fingers weaved with his and held.
“It was your father’s pump,” she said. “I know.”
And then: “Some needs long met can be let go.”
“It’s still my father’s pump,” he said. “That’s why
I carry water even now. Some needs
long met—those freely, fully met--become
a thing apart, perhaps become a love.”
She looked at him anew and said, “It’s not
unlike the two of us.”
“The water’s cool
and sweet when drawn so deep,” was all he said.
The path from porch to well was worn by years
of steady use, although the house could boast
of running water long ago. The neck
and handle—rough with age--stood hard against
the gentle garden colors just beyond.
She watched him haul the buckets, one a side
to keep his balance, and shook her head. “The need
to carry pails from outdoors in has passed.”
He stopped, a foot atop the lower step,
and smiled at her. “I suppose that’s true,” he said.
He reached the upper step and sat beside
her, put the pails aside, and held her hand
in his.
Her fingers weaved with his and held.
“It was your father’s pump,” she said. “I know.”
And then: “Some needs long met can be let go.”
“It’s still my father’s pump,” he said. “That’s why
I carry water even now. Some needs
long met—those freely, fully met--become
a thing apart, perhaps become a love.”
She looked at him anew and said, “It’s not
unlike the two of us.”
“The water’s cool
and sweet when drawn so deep,” was all he said.
Don't pee in the pool, don't swim in the toilet
By Russell King
Do you think President George W. Bush pees in the pool when he swims? Do think Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld wears dirty underwear? I have come to believe that a great many men and women in leadership positions in our country are guilty of such offenses and, as a dad, it really bugs me.
It bugs me because growing up to be good men and women gets harder when the most prevalent, public, powerful examples of grown-ups don’t act like good men and women. The job of rearing good men and women, of being a father, gets tougher, too.
“Don’t pee in the pool!” is about as close to a universal parental law as we can get, but being a kid and not breaking that law is about as close to impossible as we can get. Why?
First, because you’re faced with a choice between obeying your parents’ wishes and obeying your body’s immediate demand. Do right or do what I want (when my want feels a lot like a need)? Not an easy choice for a kid.
Second, because you know you can break the rule and not get caught. Ever. There are no pee police monitoring the pools, and even if there were, there’s no evidence on which to press charges. Dilution and chlorine preserve your claim to innocence better than any celebrity lawyer and any amount of personal wealth. Those warnings that someone had invented a substance that would turn pee in pool water a bright tell-tale color never proved true. Peeing in the pool is one of those disgusting things you can do without fear of punishment.
That’s the point: It’s important to do the right thing—and not do the wrong things—even when there’s no chance of being caught. Life is full of chances to pee in the pool. You can be “good” because you want to avoid punishment. You can be “good” because you want to gain a reward. Or you can be good because you want to be a good person. In fact, the first two are merely obedience; only the third choice is goodness. If, somehow, I can teach my children this, they will become wonderful grown-ups.
Doesn’t it seem, though, that an awful lot of people missed that lesson while growing up? Doesn’t it seem like a lot people are having difficulty making the choice between what they want to do and what they ought to do? It really shouldn’t be that tough a choice when you’re an adult—or when you’re wearing the mantle of power.
There’s a similar message in the parental demand that you always wear clean underwear. I’ve never heard of an EMT refusing to help because an accident victim was wearing dirty underwear. Nor have a heard of anyone losing friends or facing charges because a nurse in the emergency room noted that a child had dirty underwear, thus revealing negligent, unloving parents. What we’re really trying to say is that what people don’t see about you should be as good as what people do see about you.
Most of us do our best to look our best on the outside, but it’s looking good on the inside that’s the hardest and the most important. Just like peeing in the pool, you can be ugly on the inside without getting caught (by anyone other than yourself). We all have blemishes, of course, inside and out. The important thing is that good people don’t hide them, lie about them or blame them on someone else. Good people also wash and air out their dirty laundry, because they try to be clean inside and out.
Which brings me back to Bush, Rumsfeld and many who work for them: Yesterday, after listening to some of his peers try to defend, diminish and deflect the depravity going on in Iraq, Republican Senator Lindsey Graham said in disgust, "When you are the good guys, you've got to act like the good guys." Somehow, somewhere, an awful lot of us forgot how to be good, and I’ve got to explain it to my kids.
It’s scary when the most powerful grown-ups in the world—people who apparently control how “it” all works, people who obviously hold life and death in their hands—are shown to be immoral. It’s gut-wrenching when kids see their nation act in a way that contradicts their sense of national identity. “But aren’t we the good guys?” 10-year-old Logan asked while watching the news (and long before Senator Graham made his observation). It’s confusing when grown-ups’ lies are so weak as to be transparent even to a fourth-grader. I’m “Dad” so it’s my job to make the world make sense again, and I’m not sure I can.
The nation’s pool is yellow, the nation’s hamper is empty, and—as a dad--that really bugs me.
Post script: A reader writes to correct me: "Great job, Russell. Just as a side note--my mother was manager of an apartment complex which had a pool. There is a pellet that can be placed in the pool which reacts to urine so you can see which people, if any, are breaking the universal law. However, Texas law forbids use of the pellet as it is an invasion of privacy. Go figure."
By Russell King
Do you think President George W. Bush pees in the pool when he swims? Do think Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld wears dirty underwear? I have come to believe that a great many men and women in leadership positions in our country are guilty of such offenses and, as a dad, it really bugs me.
It bugs me because growing up to be good men and women gets harder when the most prevalent, public, powerful examples of grown-ups don’t act like good men and women. The job of rearing good men and women, of being a father, gets tougher, too.
“Don’t pee in the pool!” is about as close to a universal parental law as we can get, but being a kid and not breaking that law is about as close to impossible as we can get. Why?
First, because you’re faced with a choice between obeying your parents’ wishes and obeying your body’s immediate demand. Do right or do what I want (when my want feels a lot like a need)? Not an easy choice for a kid.
Second, because you know you can break the rule and not get caught. Ever. There are no pee police monitoring the pools, and even if there were, there’s no evidence on which to press charges. Dilution and chlorine preserve your claim to innocence better than any celebrity lawyer and any amount of personal wealth. Those warnings that someone had invented a substance that would turn pee in pool water a bright tell-tale color never proved true. Peeing in the pool is one of those disgusting things you can do without fear of punishment.
That’s the point: It’s important to do the right thing—and not do the wrong things—even when there’s no chance of being caught. Life is full of chances to pee in the pool. You can be “good” because you want to avoid punishment. You can be “good” because you want to gain a reward. Or you can be good because you want to be a good person. In fact, the first two are merely obedience; only the third choice is goodness. If, somehow, I can teach my children this, they will become wonderful grown-ups.
Doesn’t it seem, though, that an awful lot of people missed that lesson while growing up? Doesn’t it seem like a lot people are having difficulty making the choice between what they want to do and what they ought to do? It really shouldn’t be that tough a choice when you’re an adult—or when you’re wearing the mantle of power.
There’s a similar message in the parental demand that you always wear clean underwear. I’ve never heard of an EMT refusing to help because an accident victim was wearing dirty underwear. Nor have a heard of anyone losing friends or facing charges because a nurse in the emergency room noted that a child had dirty underwear, thus revealing negligent, unloving parents. What we’re really trying to say is that what people don’t see about you should be as good as what people do see about you.
Most of us do our best to look our best on the outside, but it’s looking good on the inside that’s the hardest and the most important. Just like peeing in the pool, you can be ugly on the inside without getting caught (by anyone other than yourself). We all have blemishes, of course, inside and out. The important thing is that good people don’t hide them, lie about them or blame them on someone else. Good people also wash and air out their dirty laundry, because they try to be clean inside and out.
Which brings me back to Bush, Rumsfeld and many who work for them: Yesterday, after listening to some of his peers try to defend, diminish and deflect the depravity going on in Iraq, Republican Senator Lindsey Graham said in disgust, "When you are the good guys, you've got to act like the good guys." Somehow, somewhere, an awful lot of us forgot how to be good, and I’ve got to explain it to my kids.
It’s scary when the most powerful grown-ups in the world—people who apparently control how “it” all works, people who obviously hold life and death in their hands—are shown to be immoral. It’s gut-wrenching when kids see their nation act in a way that contradicts their sense of national identity. “But aren’t we the good guys?” 10-year-old Logan asked while watching the news (and long before Senator Graham made his observation). It’s confusing when grown-ups’ lies are so weak as to be transparent even to a fourth-grader. I’m “Dad” so it’s my job to make the world make sense again, and I’m not sure I can.
The nation’s pool is yellow, the nation’s hamper is empty, and—as a dad--that really bugs me.
Post script: A reader writes to correct me: "Great job, Russell. Just as a side note--my mother was manager of an apartment complex which had a pool. There is a pellet that can be placed in the pool which reacts to urine so you can see which people, if any, are breaking the universal law. However, Texas law forbids use of the pellet as it is an invasion of privacy. Go figure."
