Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [34]
Back to Tasks. Maybe I could simply use the Categories function. That took some jigging. Finally, I managed to get all of the above Tasks turned into parts of Plans (now renamed Categories in the Task feature because I couldn’t figure out how to name them anything else). Next I assigned due dates and recurrences where appropriate.
I stood back and examined my creation. It was . . . mundane, hardly the stuff of moral perfection. And it was midnight, so I had wasted almost an entire day.
I could have cursed myself. I could have decried my folly and cast my efforts aside. It seemed as if in seeking Order I had been wasteful of my most precious resource: time. The truth, however, was more nuanced, as it often is. I had, in fact, created a system of organization for myself where none had previously existed.
I am a special donkey. Of course, that might be a step up from sloth. Maybe I was making progress.
It’s a Small World
Ben’s precept for Order is: “Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.”
I like these precepts. I initially viewed them as outs for Ben, a little moral bet-hedging. But the more I look at them, the more they seem like a real attempt to put flesh on the bones of the virtues. Franklin knew that a virtue like Order meant more than being organized in your business. He wanted (at least I hope he did) life balance, though he would never have named it thus. He knew that a person would not be successful in life until all the parts of his or her life received attention.
But if he knew this, he wasn’t particularly good at it. He was a man of accomplishment. He invented, he worked, he led. He was an adventurer and a traveler. Ambassador, politician, author—he was one of history’s most accomplished men.
And yet, in one respect—his relationship with his family—he seems to have been . . . imperfect. He had an illegitimate son, William, whom he raised without apparent concern for his status or how it might be viewed. Indeed, he used his influence and wealth to make his son a powerful figure in colonial America. The Revolution, however, came between them when William chose the Royalist side. Franklin eventually cut off all ties with him. They never really reconciled, despite William’s attempts to do so.
Franklin’s wife also fell victim to his ambitions. As he became more important and successful, he spent more and more time away from home. As the relationship between England and her colonies deteriorated, Franklin was dispatched to England to make the case for several of the colonies directly to the British. He ended up spending years away from his wife, Deborah. Eventually she fell ill and died while her husband politicked across the ocean.
Some of Franklin’s critics have used his family relationships to malign his character, but I think it points only to his humanity. He was, as we all are, morally flawed, and I think he recognized this, both when he created his course of virtues and when he wrote about it later in his autobiography. And when he calls for attention to all parts of one’s life, it seems to me that it is said with a note of sadness, a point of regret he would have wanted to spare others. And so I decided to dedicate the last day of Order to my family.
Mindful of the project in which I was engaged, I didn’t want to entirely abandon the program of virtue. As I examined my course of Order, it was apparent that it was weighted heavily on personal and work achievements and largely ignored the most important aspect of my life, my family. My wife and I often speak of our dreams for the future but wonder why so many plans seem to pass by unaccomplished. Such is the nature of life for parents of young children—too busy living to plan. I think that there is something good in simply living life, but perhaps by doing so we miss an opportunity. As part of my virtue-seeking program,