Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [66]
But it wasn’t glory that we were seeking, that kind of glory we all know is in our past (at least as far as sports go). We knew that our real success was in showing up and remembering that we were once kids who ran and jumped and played. Real success was in not just remembering the past but knowing that the future can include still being those kids, if for only part of the time, and never really growing up—not completely. Winning was just icing on the cake. I gave my medals (we asked for extras for those of us with more than one child at home) to my girls—they took them to school the next day to show their friends that their dad was a champion. The looks on their faces when I handed them the medals reminded me that there is glory in being an adult as well. Maybe the secret is in finding the balance.
What, you may be asking yourself, does all this have to do with Franklin’s course of virtues, and particularly Justice? I wondered that myself as I sat in the poolroom listening to my teammates razz me about my inability to knock them off the table. It was then that I realized the real lesson of the week. Citizen Ben warned himself, and by extension those who follow, to do Justice by not omitting the benefits that are your duty. I thought when I first started the week that this virtue was all about doing right by others. As I watched my friends, and felt the real joy in my heart at this gathering, I realized that being virtuous, doing Justice, not omitting the benefits that were my duty, referred not just to others but to me as well.
As my mother said, “Everybody needs a break.” If we are to be virtuous, we need to do virtue to ourselves, to ensure that we remember those things that are the best of ourselves and embrace them and enjoy life. Franklin knew this and knew that in seeking moments of happiness for himself, in not omitting the benefits he owed to himself, he was better able to do Justice to others.
I realize this all might sound like some after-the-fact justification for a weekend away, eating pizza and drinking beer. My attempt to persuade myself that this road trip was somehow related to Justice is perhaps just a self-deceiving rationalization.
Oh well, at least this wasn’t the week of Sincerity.
JUSTICE
{CHAPTER 9}
Moderation
Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries
so much as you think they deserve
UP UNTIL MODERATION, MY FAILURES ALONG THE PATH OF VIRTUE HAD been modest (as have been my successes). I might not have been lighting the virtuous world afire, but nor was I in danger of being stoned to death by some Ben Franklin cult. At least until Moderation.
{ When in doubt, don’t.}
Moderation threatened me with a heretofore forgotten foe: mediocrity. For once (just once, mind you), I thought I had too much of what Ben sought (or at least some boring mutation of what he sought). There was a successful song from the 1940s called “Accentuate the Positive.” You know it—catchy tune, interesting little lyrics. The refrain is “Don’t mess with Mr. In-Between.” Well, don’t mess with me. I am Mr. In-Between.
I am the epitome of Moderation. For the most part, my life has been governed by very middle-of-the-road behavior. I certainly didn’t set out to be moderate; in fact, I probably expected to be a creature of extremes—extremely successful, extremely happy, extremely everything. The reality is that I am only extremely moderate.
In hindsight, I think my Moderation became a self-fulfilling prophecy. As I navigated my way through moderate successes, I avoided risk for fear of losing the benefits of the moderate success, thereby assuring my Moderation. When Chris and I talked about the week of Moderation, he railed against such careful mediocrity. “Moderation is preached as a virtue precisely because it shuts down revolt and stifles innovation. It reinforces the status quo and casts doubts on those who question the way things ‘have always been,’” he said. Indeed,