A significant aspect of our culture is slowly dying. It could be described in many ways, but it's basically the quality of being worthy of esteem or respect. To a large degree it determines how we view and treat each other. We call it dignity.
Casting dignity aside leaves a void that will be filled by something else … often with unsavory results. There are many examples. Honking horns. Wall-rattling, irritating noise from passing vehicles. Public irritability, impatience, and obscene gestures. Backward hats and slouching frames. We tend to write off such behaviors as simply signs of the crudity of the day in which we live. But they are really more than that. They are indicators that dignity is being displaced.
But sparks of real dignity remain. Even amidst the rubble of rudeness, dormant sparks can unexpectedly break into open flame, warming others in their glow. Let me share, with his permission, a particularly touching example from our son Barrett's journal. Oh, that we would all have the attitude of the little man in this experience! Dignity might just be recaptured. Here's the story in Barrett's words:
I was in a hurry. Driving down the street a little too fast, I was muttering about the fact that I was going to be late.
As luck would have it, I looked up and saw a little man in front of me trying to cross the street. Exasperated, I slammed on my brakes and complained about my difficult lot in life. I looked and saw that I could go around him, but I saw in my rear view mirror that there were many cars behind me. The little man was already in the middle of the street, so I stayed where I was.
As I sat there, cars behind me begin to honk, and the man in the first car behind me began to make obscene gestures while saying less than wholesome words. I watched the old man as he shuffled across the street. He was hunched over, wearing slacks and a sweater that had at one time fit his robust, but now bony, frame. He had a wrapped package under his arm, no doubt a present he had bought for his wife in the store he had just left.
Tears filled my eyes as I watched him step up to the opposite sidewalk that had been his goal. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he turned and looked at me. As I waved at him, he did what to so many thousands of older Americans conveys the highest respect. He stood up straight, pulled his heels together, and saluted me.
Copyright 1999 James McAlister
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