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Everyone who knows my family is pretty clear on what my Mother felt about social issues. They might think they know what my Dad thought, but I'm betting they really didn't. Daddy never talked much, and when he did, he didn't want what he said to leave the immediate family. As his daughter, I was a trial to him. Growing up in the sixties, the civil rights movement was in full swing, and I remember someone asking my Dad if he would fix the cars of Black people. (That was not the term used, but you get my drift). Daddy's response was: 'Is their money green?' I, of course, stated that to someone , and it got back to Daddy that I had quoted him. At dinner, a few nights later, he looked at me with THAT look (and Daddy's LOOK was even more intimidating than Mother's LOOK) and said, "If you have to go to the bathroom, don't tell Sally. She'll announce it in church.'
Any one else might have gone into a tirade about the ethics of basing one's approach to people on the color of their skin, but my father would never have thought to do that. There were certain social conventions that he felt needed to be observed: 1. Always be polite. In his opinion, voicing political opinions was rude. Vote and keep your mouth shut was his mantra. I'm sure he wished all of us (particularly his more vocal in laws ) felt the same way. 2. All people should be treated as we, ourselves, wished to be treated. 3, Those who are able to take care of themselves should take care of themselves, but 4. When people were down and needed help,it was our job to help them, and while were helping, we should keep our mouths shut, not pass judgment and above all else, don't brag about the good deeds we have done.
My Mother kept Daddy's business finances straight until she took a full-time job. After she did that, the task of organizing his 'books' fell to me. He kept his incoming receipts in one cardboard box, his outgoing receipts in another cardboard box, and then there was this other box, also cardboard, marked 'miscellaneous'. I had to determine where the receipts in that box went. While performing this chore, I learned a few things about my Dad that I would never have known otherwise. For one thing, no pastor of any church, whatever the denomination, ever paid full price for car repairs. Daddy felt that if a man (or a woman, though, there were not many female pastors when I was growing up) devoted him or herself to the service of God, then they should be given consideration by the rest of us. Old Ladies never paid full price (Now, that I am an old lady, I only wish I could find a mechanic that felt that way. As it is, I rely on my brothers). Also, people who were down and out, but struggling to get back on their feet would be given special consideration. There was a big sign in the garage that said something about 'no credit', but when I would go through the receipts, I would find some that had not been paid. When I would ask Daddy about them, he'd say, 'That old boy lost his job,' 'That woman's husband left her and the kids, and she needs a car to get to work.' ' They'll pay when they can.' Don't get me wrong, if a person stiffed him, they wouldn't get a chance to do it twice, but if they were trying, he'd cut them some slack.
In this judgmental , 'do as I say, not as I do, society that we find ourselves, if those who are in a position to make decisions, had known my Dad, maybe they would not be so heartless.
