Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [9]
Faults—Has difficulty saying no and asking for help, not sure that is a fault. Picks at his nose, doesn’t tie his shoelaces. Sometimes forgets he is not in the Court Room and interrogates his wife.
Newfoundland Dog because he is lumbering, friendly and happy, strong and may have descended from The Vikings as did the Gunns.
Virtues—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 11, 13 were a 9 and the rest a 10, we are not sure about Socrates’ teachings.
Mom and Dad
Ha! Take that, Michelle! A Newfoundland dog is scarcely what I want written on my tombstone, but it was a whole lot better than sloth. How can you not start off the day with a song in your heart and a smile on your face when you know that your parents regard you in such a way?
About now, you are probably having the same concerns as I was. As warm and fuzzy as my parents’ survey made me feel, they are not the most objective observers. A note of neutrality was required. It was time to move on to other participants.
I decided to try coworkers and friends. I should have quit while I was ahead. Their assessment was far less biased (and far more realistic). A coworker described me as honest and principled but egocentric and scatterbrained. The friend I had chosen refused to respond.
In the end, it was apparent to me that I was only engaging in procrastination. The most important assessment had to be my own. I had asked others who I was (in the context of Franklin’s specific virtues), but no one knows me like I do—kinda.
So here we go. As Oliver Cromwell said, “Paint me warts and all.”
I am, if I am being forthright, egotistical but sometimes suffer from low self-esteem. I am smart but not nearly as smart as I suppose. I speak well but do so before I think. I am impulsive but overly cautious in some of life’s most important decisions. My use of money is not frivolous, but I have accumulated no wealth in forty years on the earth. I love sports and exercise, but not as much as I love food; the result is a waistline that grows ever so slightly each year. The words “order” and “organization” invoke in me a sense of dread—a notion of something Orwellian. My wife describes me as a Boy Scout (except when it comes to manual tasks). I have a sense of what is right and wrong, and on occasion, I, too, rigidly adhere to that code (read uptight). Patience is probably my greatest virtue and arrogance my worst vice. In short (has this been short?), I am like most other people: I am a bag of contradictions, constantly changing and evolving.
As I read the list over, I am struck by one notion: It’s not as bad as I suspected. But that’s only half the equation. This is a book about change, a journey of self-improvement. So the next question, the destination for this book, was: Who do I want to be? Chris, my new ethical guide, suggested that a useful way to pose the question is: What do you want people to be saying as you die?
Frankly, I want them to say: Isn’t there anything else we can do to save him?
But assuming all heroic measures have been taken and my time is past, I think that I just want to be remembered. That may seem simple, but it seems to me that life’s purpose is to first live (in the fullest sense) and then to leave some sort of legacy. Maybe that’s just vanity, but in the spirit of honesty, that is what I think. So how about this: He was a wonderful father, husband, and son. He saw things, went places, and, most important, he made a difference. Is that simple enough?
Could Ben help me with these rather vague but universal goals? Well, we’ll see. Each week, for thirteen weeks, I would concentrate on the virtues that made Benjamin Franklin America’s most beloved son. I would be Temperate and Sincere and Moderate. I’d attempt to carry out