| ILet me tell you about Art. He
doesn’t live around here so he won’t read this, but then he doesn’t do what
he does to read about it in the paper. He’s an ex-con who admits to have broken his
parents’ hearts as a young hoodlum. What he learned from that life, he shares through
his deeds. We all have our paths and I am glad Art’s crossed mine. It started when we bought a bedroom set from a large department store. It was
a major purchase for us and entailed not only the financial arrangements but the time and
energy of removing the old, reorganizing and replacing with the new. All did not go
smoothly.
We ordered a wall unit, changing the configuration. The salesman
assured us this was possible, but when the first delivery came with the traditional set
up, I became suspicious. During the next two months of problems, it became apparent the
salesman had made a mistake, and unwilling to admit that, blamed the foul ups on someone
else.
Waiting the third time for the delivery that would hopefully end the
chaos of my bedroom, I met Art. He and another guy unloaded my items, and of course, there
was another problem. One piece was big and was really a job for a three-man truck. It had
been put on their truck at the last minute as others tried to make up for a plethora of
mistakes.
Art wanted to make things right, and so they began to haul it up my
stairs. Exerting every ounce of strength, they made it, but only after punching a fist
sized hole in my wall and scratching paint. Now what?
Well, I expected him to grumble the piece should never have been on
his truck, and that others deserved the blame. Even I could see that was the case, and
felt to make the excuse for him. Instead, Art gave me his home phone number. He said he
would fix everything good as new.
When he came a few weeks later, while his drywall man spackled and
painted, he told me his story. He told of blaming others for problems in his life and
where it had led him and then his decision to take responsibility for himself. He liked it
that way, he said, he kept his own slate clean. It turned out Art helped others learn
this, and his drywall man was being mentored as we spoke. They were both ex-cons.
We all make mistakes, was Art’s message. You think
acknowledging them or making up for them will be embarrassing or too difficult, but in
fact, the opposite is true. Just fix mistakes the best you can, everyone feels better.
I thought he had a right in this instance to blame those who had
created the mess, but he would have none of it. He made the hole, he’d fix it. He
gave me the cash for the touch up paint out of his pocket.
Art mentored more than one that day, I was a student too. |