Sometimes, change is good.When we change the way we do things for reasons that make sense, that’s one thing.For instance, I fought the seatbelt thing until I got my second No Seatbelt Award from …
Sometimes, change is good.
When we change the way we do things for reasons that make sense, that’s one thing.
For instance, I fought the seatbelt thing until I got my second No Seatbelt Award from the police. Now I buckle up every time I get in the seat.
Similarly, I was that guy who swore he would never carry a telephone around with him everywhere he went. If I recall correctly, I enjoyed my crow fricasseed when I had to admit I was wrong about that one.
Then there are the times when we change the way we do things over long periods of time and no one really notices.
How we behave on Sundays is a great example.
Kim tells a story about her grandmother who recalled that her mother said, “Mama said it’s OK to play ball on Sunday if you go to church.”
When I was a kid, we played lots and lots of ball on Sunday afternoons. We never thought a thing about it.
But the generations before me didn’t feel that way.
Until she died, Mama thought it was a sin to date a check on a Sunday. She would always write her check for the church collection plate on Saturday night.
If she forgot, she backdated it a day — I guess not to leave a paper trail for St. Peter to find.
Most of us take more liberties with things like that than our elders did.
One thing that has stuck with me, however, is not mowing the yard on Sunday.
Since I was 12, I have mowed my own yard hundreds of times. I’ve also had help over the years, but for the most part, I’ve done it.
And during all those years, I have mowed the yard on Sunday exactly two times in my life — once when I was 16 and the other time last year.
Both times I was leaving in a couple of days for a trip, and there was no other way around it.
I’m not judging people who do mow on Sunday. I’ve done plenty of yard work on Sunday afternoon — the vast majority, however, shrouded in secrecy in the backyard. But the tradition that we don’t mow our yards on Sunday will probably be a part of me forever.
Something else I’ve noticed lately is how not everyone stops for funeral proces-sions.
For me, stopping is simply a polite, respectful thing to do.
The rules change, of course, on an 8-lane interstate with a million cars speeding at 80 mph or higher. There’s no reason to lose a couple more of us.
But generally, I think it’s nice to stop.
The people in the front of that procession are having a really bad day, and I feel like whatever crisis I’m embroiled in isn’t nearly as life-changing as what they’re going through.
Along that line, let’s make sure we keep up the tradition of showering families with food when they lose someone.
Over the course of my life I have been blessed beyond what I can express in times of loss by neighbors, church family and friends.
When we eat while we’re grieving, the calories don’t count. You may not have known that, but it’s true.
And that will never change.
(About the writer: Barry Currin is founder and president of White Oak Advertising and Public Relations, based in Cleveland. “Stories of a World Gone Mad” is published weekly. Email the writer at firstname.lastname@example.org.)
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