The year is 1983. Based on the jacket-less mob of children, it's an unusually warm day in November ... for Ohio. My Mother planned my 9th birthday party a little earlier this year so I could enjoy it with friends as opposed to getting lost in the mess of the Christmas holiday break. Forever doomed to the "
combo present", I was born 2 days after Christmas.
The birthday was a good one. I was wearing gray parachute pants which took the focus off my
uber-nerd, bowl-cut/broom-end of blond strings. These days I wouldn't be so picky as long as I had some hair.
Romping through the front yard of the neighborhood before piling in the mini-van with fake, wood-grain paneling for presents and treats at the local roller skating alley.
Holding hands with the cutest girl in 3rd grade while rolling around to "Endless Love" & "Faithfully" should have been the end to the blurry saunter down amnesia lane.
After a riveting message on
Prejudice this weekend, a horribly vivid memory from that day still haunts me. No - not the yellow and green striped pack of tube socks from JC Penny's my grandma gave me as a birthday present.
Enter Cindy Spitz. As I mentioned before, about 10 of us 3rd graders from
Saint Joe's Catholic School were gathered in my front yard for pictures before the Birthday celebration. Cindy, a 3rd grade class mate of ours, was walking in front of the house ... alone.
She was pushing her
Cabbage Patch doll in an umbrella stroller. She lived at the end of the street, with parents old enough to be her grandparents. At 9, she wore coke-bottle thick glasses, braces on her teeth, braces on her legs, walked like a duck, and was dressed like
Laura Ingalls from
Little House On The Prairie. She was not invited.
Day in and day out she was mercilessly tormented at school and on the bus. I knew this. She was at my assigned bus stop. Horribly shy and most definitely warped by the abuse, she stood strong and strolled in front of the group from her class celebrating her bus mate's birth.
And we mocked her. Ruthlessly. My Mom stepped in and stopped it ... but the memory has never left me.
Cindy ... I apologize and request your forgiveness for that day.
...
Some have been so bold as to question my "Selfish Bastard" mantra. And it really got me thinking lately. Is my life mantra flawed? To my detractor's shame, no.
The Story of the Selfish Bastard
About 2 years ago, I walked into my good friend's office, Ryan, handed him his cup of java and said, "I just saved your life." It was about 6:45 AM and my turn to bring coffee to work.
Ryan - "How's that?"
Jerry - "You're a selfish bastard."
Ryan - "What did I do?"
Jerry - "See? Why does it always have to be about you?"
Pause. Laughter.
No matter how right you are or how well things are going, there is something in your life that the Lord is endlessly and patiently waiting for you to let go. "Selfish Bastard" is just a trick for us more irreverent types to trigger a turn towards God.
When you've had it with your wife and you even know she's at fault (less than 0.1% of the time, of course) there is probably something out there that God has "had it" with you. End of argument. Unless of course you've figured out everything on this side of heaven.
So if you are an adversary of the "Selfish Bastard" mantra, feel free to substantiate your argument by citing a specific example in your life where you were 100% in the right and God revealed to you that your walk was as pristine as a disciple of Christ could become and no further action would be necessary on that day. I will then bow out humbly.
Until then ... I'm telling you for the last time ... you're a selfish bastard.
So what about this social message of Jesus? Well, I've always been one to try and strike gold and philosophize about it later. Selfish Bastard is an example of that. Most would say that I just don't have the discipline to be still and learn first. That made it more weird when I started reading "
The Science of Getting Rich", a 1910 publication by a weakling named
Wallace D. Wattles. The title was a bit suspect when handed over to me by a
good friend. But I gave it a whirl.
Chapter 1 - absolutely agreed with NOTHING until the summary - "... for you can render to God and humanity no greater service than to make the most of yourself."
I plan to read through this and read it again. I find myself wondering what the fortnight I'm reading sometimes until this
Wattles freak blows me away with an ideal I completely align to. Since I'm usually left conflicted on why I puke on everything except his conclusions, I plan to publish my full notes on the piece here in a follow-up post.
To give you an idea of this guy's topical prowess, have a look at the other titles he penned before succumbing to an untimely death:
- Health Through New Thought and Fasting
- Hellfire Harrison (his only novel)
- Making of the Man Who Can
- A New Christ
- The Science of Being Great
- The Science of Being Well
- The Science of Getting Rich (1910)
No matter the mantra, I leave you with this:
1 John 4:19-2119 We love because he first loved us. 20 If anyone says, "I love God," yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. 21 And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.Protect the Cindy Spitz of the world when the opportunity arises. Do not fall into the child-like folly of taunting the weak. And above all, always go to your Father for the guidance in taking the next step to becoming
His vision for you, for the merit of His Son's Passion, by the strength through the Holy Spirit.
For some, this is simply cleaning up the massive nacho cheese spills in our life without saying a word ...
For a little levity, here are some entertaining links residing far from this digital space:
Peace.
"... and a slew of crazy friends and family!" is a partial quote at the top of this blog. It's so true ... Cornbread is not his name nor is he a simpleton - but that's what we joke about. Realistically, he possesses the name sake of one of the Bible's most noble characters: Cornelius.
"We have come from Cornelius the centurion. He is a righteous and God-fearing man, who is respected by all ..."
The birthday was a good one. I was wearing gray parachute pants which took the focus off my uber-nerd, bowl-cut/broom-end of blond strings. These days I wouldn't be so picky as long as I had some hair.
... that's my good friend Kevin riding his daughter's bike - not one of Rockwall's mentally disturbed. Thanks for the fodder, Kev.
Or for that matter, why do you blog at all? Could my time wasted doing this go towards more productive activities? No one really reads blogs. Right?
The following desirable blog names were taken. What's worse is NONE of them has ever been used for anything (even stupid stuff - just void spaces on the Internet!) 2005 is the most recent post!
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