What you expect from others should start with what you expect from yourself.
I recently dropped a glass outside while at lunch. I spent a moment picking up the larger pieces and foot swept the remainder off the main path into the bushes. I fully expected someone to clean up the mess I had made. It is, after all, a maintained business campus. This is what now passed in my life for ‘good enough.’
That is until a few nights ago. I was lying in bed thinking about what a great father I was becoming. Reading about things to one day teach and share with my son. As I laid there contemplating all the adventures the future held for me, I was struck by a strong memory from my childhood. When I was around 9 years old, soda still came in glass bottles and it was still safe to send a young boy to the corner store. My mother had sent me; and everything went fine until I dropped the glass on the sidewalk. I picked up every shard of glass. As I was picking it up a neighbor came out with a broom and dustpan to commend me for picking up and to provide me with the right tools to finish the job. I finished up and she sent me back to the store with enough to replace the soda.
Why did this memory come back? Obviously I had been armed with more than just the right tools for the job that morning. I was provided with community assurance that doing the right thing would be noticed, and rewarded. Not so much with money or accolades, but with a sense of community fulfillment.
So here I am, more than 20 years later, sweeping my responsibilities off the sidewalk. Leaving the cleanup to someone else. Where had I gone wrong? What had life shown me in the last 20 years that so fully contradicted my core belief at 9 of doing the RIGHT thing?
It doesn’t matter what distracted me then. I have a responsibility to win back my sense of community. Isn’t that one of the things I should pass along to my son? Of all the things I can share with him, the most important things he will learn from my example, and I refuse to let that be complacent apathy.
I went back today and cleaned up every shard of glass on the ground from my bottle. While I was stooped over, someone asked if I work for the campus. My reply was no, but I would not want my one year old son to pick this up. And I meant both the physical glass and the figurative statement. He reaffirmed my sentiment and provided a bit of reassurance that I was on the right track with a thank you and a god bless you.
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