Things That Define Who We Are

A story about taking care when choosing your friends.

A few days ago I read a story here entitled �Just Me� by Brette Medb that caused me to think about the things that define us, who we are, and reminded me of one of my own. It was the fall of 1959 (so now you can see I really am an old guy) when I was twelve. It was Halloween, long before the insanity of political correctness and religious fanaticism and in those days Halloween was fun and accepted by the majority as such. It was a night for a little mischievousness and, if you were lucky, a little candy along the way.

Mom was taking my little sister to the neighborhood where Aunt Nina lived and they were going to �trick or treat� there. Since I felt I was too old to go out with the little kids, I persuaded Mom to let me go to the Methodist church recreation center where they were having a Halloween party for the older kids.

So she dropped me off on her way across town. The last word I heard as I got out of the car was the simple command �behave!� I hurried inside in hopes of finding one of my friends but it turned out that none of the three ever showed up.

All of the girls had taken over one side of the gym and were standing in little groups talking and giggling as girls were wont to do in those days. On the other side were two distinct groups of boys. A larger group that I considered the �snobs� whom I had little use for and then there was a smaller group of five or six boys who were sort of the outcasts. These individuals were all less liked and more prone to mischief.

Not seeing either of my best friends I moved toward the smaller group because they would me more likely to accept my presence than the �snobs.� We stayed to ourselves talking and joking for a while. The ring leader of the group was a kid named Charlie, who was a bully and a bit of a loud mouth but since I had been the only one to ever stand up to him at school he grudgingly accepted my presence.

There seemed to be an air of anticipation; it seemed as if the others were waiting for something to happen. It was near the time the party was to end that suddenly Charlie motioned for everyone to follow him and out the door we went. He stopped at the end of the sidewalk next to the gravel parking lot and waited.

Just then Russell and Denny, both boys from my class but not friends by any means, came out of the door and down the sidewalk. Just as Russell tried to step around Charlie, Charlie punched him in the mouth and knocked him down. And then he turned on Denny and hit him on the nose.

Both boys were lying on the ground bleeding from nose and mouth when the minister came rushing out and yelling at us. All of the others ran, and for some reason I ran too. I don�t know why I ran because I hadn�t done anything but I did.


Where the others ran to I still don�t know but I quickly decided to walk the four miles or so home. When I reached the drive way at the bottom of our hill I did not see Mom�s car so I knew they weren�t back yet. The only light showing was our porch light. My grandparent�s house was dark so I thought they were already in bed. As I cut across the dark yard I heard Mam-maw�s voice call out.

�Bobby, you come here!�

Now my grandmother was the sweetest person, that is, until she became mad at someone and just from the tone of her voice I knew I was in trouble.

As I reached the long, covered porch I could just barely see her sitting there in her rocker in dark. I sat down in the rocker beside her and there was nothing but several minutes of agonizing silence.

�Were you with Charlie and those other boys?� She asked. It was obvious that she already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from me.

�Yes, ma�am.�

�Did you hit either of those boys?�

�No ma�am! I promise I didn�t! All I did was watch but I didn�t know that was going to happen.�

Then she wanted to know why I was with Charlie and the others since I knew that they usually got into some kind of trouble.

No matter what excuse I offered it simply wasn�t good enough. But then I made a mistake. I said �I didn�t do anything wrong.�

There were several seconds of silence and the she said �you were there with them.� And she went on to tell me that I was just as guilty as the others because I was with them and had done nothing to stop what I knew to be wrong and that I had run away.

Then she came out with an old adage, things from her storehouse of country wisdom she was prone to say at the most appropriate times.

�A man is known by the company he keeps.�

This leads me to a conversation with my daughter about Barak Obama while we were having breakfast the other morning. Laura will be voting in her first presidential election soon and is trying to decide for whom she will vote. She asked me what my main reason for not voting for him was.

When one looks at those people Obama calls friends to makes me wonder at his loyalty to this country.

Rev. (and I use that term loosely for his is a church of hate) Jeremiah Wright is by Obama�s own admission his pastor, mentor and friend for the past twenty or so years. Wright preaches hated and racism and Marxists values, if one can call them values, all in the name of advancing communism in this country. This is a man, a supposedly pious man who has called up God to damn America. This is a man who praises Daniel Ortega, the Marxist Sandinista leader of Nicaragua. This is a man who holds Che Guevara up as a idol.

And then there is the terrorist William Ayers. All know of his Weather Underground past and his Marxists anti-American beliefs. This is a man who set off terrorist bombs against the Establishment and then said �we didn�t do enough.� Then he was photographed in 2001 stomping on my flag. Obama served with Ayers on the Woods Fund board and Ayers made donations to Obama�s state Senate campaign.

Then there are those on Obama�s campaign staff. One, acting in Obama�s name contacted Raul Reyes, Columbia�s Marxist FARC leader, to tell him that if elected Obama would cut of US military aid to Columbia and deny the free trade agreement between Columbia and the US. From bottom to top Obama�s staff is filled with those who advocate Marxism.

�A man is known by the company he keeps.�

So knowing his friends and their Marxist politics makes Obama just as guilty and unacceptable for President to me.

Reviews

[Winter McPherson]

Well, first of all the word "old" is relative, and its no relation to me. Having said that - wow! I did not know this about him - not that I was going to vote for him. I agree with "Raven Spirit" that there are no choices! But this was very intersting. Thank you for the information. Good lead in with the personal story.

[Angel's Lady]

I liked the part of your story about your grandma. Good old-fashioned values.

[Inkdye]

Wow! It is the company we keep that greatly shapes who we are. The way you lead into this is very compelling. Thank you very much for the informed insight.

[Wildfleour]

I loved your childhood story; such a different write than what I have come accustomed to with you. I have used that adage many, many times with students and my own children.

The problem is this: all politicians have shady company. So what do we do?

[Ruby Moon]

haha...it was fine until the politics start coming in...
i dont follow politics especially if its not my country's politics
^^
i think your grandma is very wise...
and i am glad you remember her wisdom for all these years

[[untitled]]

This is well written because you back up your statements. I for one feel that we have NO CHOICES! AT ALL!

[WritefromtheHeart]

First of all, I love your childhood story. If only everyone was as wise as our grandparents were, right? The old adages are often very true, and living by them takes some conscious thought on our part.

As for Obama...I have reservations about him and have from the very beginning, even before the publicity about his "connections". Why? I can't put my finger on it, but I trust my instinct explicitly, and my instinct is that he would not make a good president. I was greatly saddened when Edwards dropped out of the race.