Your best friends are good
listeners. Sometimes you just can’t
suppress a secret any longer. You must
confess. That’s why you need a confidant
to listen.
Steve’s
that kind of friend.
We’ve
spent hours together, traveling to meetings.
We take turns driving, talking and listening. On a recent trip, I felt the need to bare my
soul to the superior court judge. I
thought it was time my African-American friend knew one of my deepest convictions.
“I
hope that you won’t be offended, Steve,” I said. “But I think it’s time for you to know that I
am prejudiced.”
I
watched his ebony fingers tighten on the steering wheel as we rode in silence
for a few moments. Seeing that he had
taken the bait, I set the hook.
“Judge,
I just can’t help it,” I said, “but I am prejudiced against sorriness.”
Exhaling
before he laughed, Steve said, “Man, you had me going there for a minute.”
“Yep,
Judge,” I said, “I’ve really tried to purge my ill feelings, but it is
hopeless.”
With
another chuckle, Steve asked, “What kind of ‘sorry’ bothers you most?”
Since
he asked, I launched into a diatribe. “Laziness
is the biggest offender,” I fumed. “My
grandmother believed, ‘God has yet to
create a man so “sorry” that a woman or a dog won’t follow him.’
“These
shiftless folks wouldn’t get off the porch to accept a free biscuit. They are so sorry they couldn’t go to the bathroom without the aid of
gravity. We’re all God’s children, but
sooner or later we have to act like responsible adults. And women aren’t immune from sorriness, either.
“If
you have the mental and physical health to be productive and contribute to the
betterment of America, you should. But
that’s a notion that is diminishing with each new generation. The let-somebody-else-do-it syndrome is
breeding a sorriness epidemic.
“Next
time you visit a store, count the shopping carts you have to dodge to
park. Why won’t people walk a few more
steps and put the carts in the designated spots? And why do people drop dirty diapers in the
parking lot? The answer to both is sorriness.
“On
the highways, watch sorry people toss
trash out of their vehicles’ windows.
How hard would it be for them to have a litterbag in the car? But they know someone else will pick up their
garbage.
“The
same goes for old sofas, washing machines and mattresses that you see pitched
into public rights-of-way. Who does
stuff like that? I can tell you—sorry folks.
“At
our building, we provide special receptacles for smokers to dispose of
cigarette butts. About half of the butts
are still flipped on the sidewalk and into the shrubbery. Those folks are suffering from just plan sorriness. If their mamas tried to raise them right,
those inconsiderate smokers were just too sorry
to listen.”
Shaking
his head and waving his hand, the judge advised, “You can rest your case.”
“Thank
you, your honor,” I said. “I make no
excuses. I have compassion for people
who can’t, but I have contempt for those who won’t. Therefore, Judge, I am guilty of prejudice
against sorriness.”
(This column was written 16 years ago. My opinions haven’t changed, but my friend
and loyal listener is now a federal judge. I know that I can never appear before his
bench, but we still laugh about my confession on our way back from a 2004 Judicial
Qualifications Commission meeting in Atlanta.)
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
