Self-Control

     I remember walking to school every day with my sisters, Margaret and Sally. I was in the third grade at the time, so I was probably 9 years old. Sally would have been 5 or 6, and Margaret was around 13. It was a mile and a half to school, so if we left home by 8:00, we usually made it by 8:30 with good time. This particular morning, we found out from some of the kids that the government had made arrangements with the school board to have some apples and oranges brought in a wagon for the children to eat throughout the day. My dad found out about this, and when we got home from school, he gave us strict orders not to touch the fruit on that wagon when it came. Case closed. We knew why. It was a government program. We had heard him discuss the “New Deal” at the house on several occasions, and we knew he wanted nothing to do with handouts.

     When we arrived at the school yard the next day, there was the wagon loaded with fruit. Up on the very top of the pile was one of the largest apples I had ever seen in my life. We had to walk right past the wagon to get in the school house. My sisters and I never even considered the idea of taking a piece of fruit. With Daddy, there was no grey area or “middle ground.” It was all “Daddy’s ground.” He didn’t allow any begging or appeals.  I don’t remember a time when he hadn’t already made up his mind. The answer was either yes or no.

     There were other kids besides us who did not eat the apples, but not many.  They didn't eat them for the same reason we didn’t eat them - their parents had forbidden it. The kids who did get to eat the fruit tried to entice us to eat it, too. They even teased us a little. But it didn’t work. When Daddy said, “No,” he meant it. If we disobeyed, we knew we’d regret it later.

     All day, from my desk, I could see the apple wagon with that huge apple right on top of the load. I could see it through the window while I did my math, my spelling, my grammar, and my history. I walked past it to go to recess and lunch. I wanted that apple on the top more than I have wanted any apple before or since, mainly because it was so big.

     However, there was no debate in my mind that maybe Daddy wouldn’t find out, because it was settled. I really tried not to think about the apple too much. We walked home that afternoon, and I still wanted that apple. But I didn’t get it.

     Interestingly, when we got home, neither of my parents even asked us if we had eaten any of the fruit. They trained us to obey, but there was a deeper principle here. They also trained us to work for what we had. Maybe there was a certain amount of pride involved, in a good sense. Daddy was glad to be able to work for his family, and as long as he was able, he really didn’t want any help. He would have been insulted for anyone  to imply with a handout that he wasn't providing enough.

Life Lesson:  Don’t take things that you haven’t worked for.

Self-Control: The power that results from passing the tests of obedience. The virtue of one who masters his desires and passions.

Honesty

     "In 1939, when I was 9 years old, we moved to the "Pugh Place," less than a mile north from where I live today. We called it the Pugh Place because a man named Mr. Pugh owned it. He lived in Muskogee and worked at the Federal Court House. 

     My dad didn't own any land of his own at that time, but he loved to farm, and the Pugh Place had 130 acres. This was 50 acres more than what we farmed before, back at the Rains' place where I was born. I guess Dad figured that his kids were getting bigger, and could handle 50 more acres. 

     Mr. Pugh came down twice per year - when the strawberries were ripe, because we had a beautiful strawberry patch, and when we started picking cotton, because ¼ of the cotton would be his, and 1/3 of the grain would be his. As a sharecropper, my dad would sell the cotton, and give the landlord ¼ of what the cotton brought. When we gathered the grain, we would take 10 rows and leave 5 for the landlord, all the way across the field. This was how we paid the rent for the house and land.

     My dad would always call his landlord, and tell him to come and look at the field to make sure Dad had left him his third. I remember once when the landlord came down, I walked out to the field with him and Dad to count the rows. After Mr. Pugh finished counting, he said, “That’s exactly the way it's supposed to be.” 

     And if you knew my dad, you would know that’s the only way it was going to be. I don’t remember the landlord ever coming back to count the corn again. He knew my dad was an honest man and would give him what he had coming."

Life Lesson: Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

Honesty - Earning future trust by accurately reporting past facts.