Virtue of the Week: Respect

As time goes on, I am , learning more and more about this valuable virtue. Not having lived there, it is hard to understand the respect that we should have for the sick, elderly and handicapped. This poem sheds some light:

Blessed In Aging
by Esther Mary Walker

Blessed are they who understand
My faltering step and shaking hand
Blessed, who know my ears today
Must strain to hear the things they say.

Blessed are those who seem to know
My eyes are dim and my mind is slow
Blessed are those who look away
When I spilled tea that weary day.

Blessed are they who, with cheery smile
Stopped to chat for a little while
Blessed are they who know the way
To bring back memories of yesterday.

Blessed are those who never say
“You’ve told that story twice today”
Blessed are they who make it known
That I am loved, respected and not alone.

And blessed are they who will ease the days
Of my journey home, in loving ways.


Respect Your Fellow Man

This happened on American airlines.

A 50-something year old white woman arrived at her seat and saw that the passenger next to her was a black man.

Visibly furious, she called the stewardess, ”What’s the problem, mam?” the stewardess asked her.

“Can’t you see?” the lady said – “I was given a seat next to a black man. I can’t seat here next to him. You have to change my seat”

– “Please, calm down, ma” – said the stewardess.
“Unfortunately, all the seats are occupied, but I’m still going to check if we have any.”

The stewardess left and returned some minutes later.

“Madam, as I told you, there isn’t any empty seat in this class- economy class.
But I spoke to the captain and he confirmed that there are no empty seats left in the economy class. We only have seats in the first class.”

And before the woman said anything, the stewardess continued

“Look, it is unusual for our company to allow a passenger from the economy class change to the first class.
However, given the circumstances, the captain thinks that it would be a scandal to make a passenger travel having to sit next to an unpleasant person.”

And turning to the black man, the stewardess said:

“Which means, Sir, if you would be so nice to pack your handbag, we have reserved you a seat in first class…”

And all the passengers nearby, who were shocked to see the scene started applauding, some standing on their feet.”


A different kind of drug problem…

The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a met amphetamine lab had been found in an old farm house in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question, ”Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?” I replied: ”But I did have a drug problem when I was a kid growing up on the farm.”

I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.

I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher. Or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me. I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profane four letter word. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds and ragweed out of dad’s fields.

I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline or chop some fire wood. And if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the wood shed.

Those drugs are still in my veins; and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin, and if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America might be a better place today.

In the restaurant, the elderly gentleman had just been served his food, and he bowed to offer silent thanks. To the young punks at an adjoining table, this was a very funny thing, and one of them just had to show-off for his peers. When the old man lifted his head, one of the young men called to him: “Hey old man, do they all do that where you come from?” The old man answered: “No, son. THE PIGS DON’T.”

Videos on Respect: