DCF-260429

https://www.chathamstartribune.com/opinion/article_8d12f9b7-1617-4ebf-bd78-c79e628ddc78.html

Reflections on Life, Parenting and Community

There is an old joke that says, “I grew up with nothing and still have most of it.” It still holds true. My sister and I were raised on child support and the mill. I would reckon that most of us were not born with silver spoons.  Sometimes, we were lucky to have plastic ones.

I have lived in Danville for most of my life, though we did leave for a couple of years in the late ’70s. My step father was chasing a dollar. While we were there, I had a paper route—delivering in a neighborhood near Langley.  Hardest people ever to collect from. It was not an adult job then; kids delivered papers. Man, I was young—about seventh grade, I think. I praise God for where I am today, but it took work to get here. Sometimes it feels like I have to work too hard just to keep it.

Growing up, the lessons we learned came from painful experience—not a video on YouTube. We touched the stove.  We put the Slinky in the receptacle. We rode our bikes everywhere, and the streetlights were our signal to go home. We spent time together with friends, went to work after school and on Saturdays, smoked cigarettes, and watched Captain Kangaroo. We fought and remained friends.  We did our homework, fixed our own cars, and if they would go fast, we went fast. I met my wife in high school, and we have been together ever since.

Our mothers and fathers did not talk about their troubles with the kids. We were never part of the decision-making process. I have two children and could not be prouder of them, but it saddens me that they did not have the chance to grow up in ignorant bliss. I am talking about the days when the news came on in the evening.  Walter Cronkite gave it to you like it was and left you with enough to get you through to the next evening. Most families only had about three channels on the television until cable came along to screw it all up. Funny, really—so much to look at, yet I still watch the same thing every day.

We had rules, and boundaries were set. Sure, we bent a few—pushed the envelope a time or two—but now there are few, and they are near impossible to follow. Ever hear of teaching an old dog a new trick? Well, what I would like to know is, when did I become the old dog?
And hear this: the shenanigans in Washington never touched us, as “we the people” got along fine. Remember the bliss thing. Still today, we buy the same bread and the same gasoline. Our kids go to the same schools, and we attend the same churches. So, there is that.

And oh yeah, we were also the ones who supposedly had no ambition. I hear folks talk about how kids today donot want to work. Well, it might be that we bear some of the responsibility for that. Now we know it to be true: the more things change, the more they stay the same. Nothing is new under the sun.

I remember reading in my Bible that we ought to train a child in the way they should go, and when they are old, they will remain upon it. They must grow up. The least we can do is help them get there.

I have seen Danville at its best—at least, I like to think so. Some of that is because I was privileged to live here.  Those same folks of “little ambition” are today’s writers, pastors, factory workers, business owners, doctors, lawyers, nurses, and, more importantly, they are still friends. Friends who eagerly predict revival in their world, no matter how that looks for them.

They say those were the days. I wish I had known it then. I would have done some things differently—treated myself better. Certainly, I would have tried harder to treat other people better.

What is necessary today is a little patience. I know I wore out the patience of my parents and grandparents on many occasions. Young people today are, it seems, encouraged by the world to be anxious, aggravated, aggressive, and rude—taking it as a challenge if someone offers correction. This is nothing new. My generation was just as rebellious. Thankfully, no one had a cell phone, and social media did not exist. So, it is still my story.  It may not be a good one, but it is mine.

Maybe I am holding onto that blissful ignorance a while longer than I should, but they will steer out of it. Wemight have to be tougher on them than we like, but if we teach them, they certainly could be better than us.

These are our children. They are our grandchildren. We are not saddled with the responsibility of everybody’ skids—just ours. Somehow, we have gotten the idea that it is up to us to clean up everyone else’s backyard while putting a fence around ours to keep others out. I remember someone once said it takes a village to raise a child.  Well, what if the village is full of idiots?

I want my children to garner respect and to be value-added members of their communities. I also want to help them achieve it.

Don’t you?

Pastor Butch Robinson