I thought I’d start today’s blog out with a quick update on a post from a few days ago titled, ‘Walking the Dogs’. During the evening walk, we went by a neighbor’s home who was trying to mow her grass with a manual mower. The only problem was that she is probably in her mid-to-late 70s and could barely push it. I had made a joke to make her laugh about the mower getting great gas mileage but left with a gnawing in my gut to go back and offer to help. I committed to updating on Saturday, but Saturday was not a good day for mowing.
I went to her home on Sunday, but she didn’t answer the door (probably because of the weird looking guy who was knocking…). So, the next strategy was to stop-by with the Mrs. (whom I know she’d met in the past when she had an estate sale) to see if she would answer. Sure enough, she did.
It turns out that her son, who usually mows her grass, had oral surgery and couldn’t help. She thought she would try herself, but that didn’t work out. She accepted my offer after some pushing and, last night, I went over and mowed the yard for her. We’ll keep checking back until her son is able to help again. Anyways, I thought I would give an update on that one.
Today’s photo was taken at the car show we went to a while back. It speaks to me about ‘class’. Class in the sense of how we use it to depict something of high value, high esteem, a cut-above all the rest, and rare.
I was raised in a modest home where we would eat TV dinners, macaroni & cheese, and pizza. The idea of classy dishes at dinner was reserved for Sundays and holidays. Believe me, I’m glad we didn’t have all that formality.
I never really dealt with class envy because most of my friends were about the same middle-class as I was. Sure, we had the rich kids at school who always had the latest and greatest, but they never paid much attention to this cross-eyed, long blond-haired music freak. There was one person from the ‘upper class’ social group whom I remember as being different.
It was 7th grade and I had my first locker experience. Wouldn’t you know it that my locker neighbor was the most popular guy in school, Steve Russell. He was the guy who was the star athlete in every sport, had the hair of Shaun Cassidy, and the guy all the girls would dream about dating.
Steve was different, though. From the very first day, he treated me the same as everyone else. He didn’t see me as some weird looking 7th grader. Even though he seemed to have everything a kid would want at that age and time, he didn’t see himself as better than me. He even came to my defense on occasion when a few of the other, less kind kids decided to pick on me.
Steve had all the class but what truly gave him class was that he didn’t see through the social differences and treated me, and others, all the same. Today, I would say he probably had great parents who taught him those values.
Having class isn’t about being better than others because we have something better. It’s all about not basing our identity on those things. It’s about treating all people equally out of love. If we can get to that point, we truly are ‘classy’...
Today, here’s to Steve for teaching me at a young age that looks, money, and popularity don’t matter more than people. Thank you for being classy Steve.
No comments posted.