A Pillow So Soft
There was a time when a handshake and a man’s word were the only things required “to seal the deal.” There was no need for lawyers and written contracts. Almost everyone governed their life on trust and integrity. Both my grandfathers were described as that cut of man. Their word was their honor and it was enough for anyone that knew them. I once had an acquaintance tell me: “Your Grandpa John’s word and handshake was better than some men’s written contract. He was a man of great integrity.”
I was probably about eight years of age when he intervened between me and Grandma Laura’s impasse over the caliber of my decimation of “stink bugs” on the vegetables in the garden. His examination of Grandma’s row found no bugs present and using a small stick he signed her name in the dirt at the end. He squatted down beside me and pushed back his old straw hat, looking me squarely in the face he questioned if I had seen paintings with artist’s signatures in the corner. “Yes, I had.” I replied. He continued: “Why do you think they put their names on those pictures?” Thinking a moment I answered: “To prove they painted them.” To solidify his point, he asked: “Do you think they sign them when the painting is bad?” Before I even thought I responded: “No way!” Then he questioned if I wanted my name put on the still bug infested row assigned to me.
Over the years I have never forgotten that long ago conversation in that row of vegetables and the lesson it taught me. In his wise way he demonstrated that every job was a self-portrait of myself and I should always strive to autograph my work with the best of my ability. The dictionary defines integrity as soundness of moral principle and character, uprightness and honesty and good work ethic is just one facet.
I was raised here in the Ozarks, in a time, when most were too proud to accept “charity” from a federal relief agency and felt those accepting it, lacked integrity. One poor chap refused the government handout by replying: “I’d sooner get me a tin bill and pick manure with the chickens.” One local woman recorded in her journal in August, 1936: “Tom went to Lakeview Heights, he said all the “reliefers” was there for their handout.” Her very wording revealed her disapproval of welfare.
Ozark folk interviews by Thelma McManus also recorded James Calvin McManus in the 1960’s concerning his rugged life in the hills. He was questioned why he didn’t move to town to which he replied; “This is my home, I own it and all the land around it. I owe no one a penny, I’ve never asked for support or help from anyone and I’m not about to start now.” In another interview with 96 year-old Ed Lacy Mrs. McManus inquired if he was collecting a pension. He curtly answered: “Lord no, I’ve never drawed government money ever.”
I’ve never taken a handout myself but I do compromise my integrity by being notoriously late for appointments and meetings. I know that if I tell someone I’ll meet them at 11:00 a.m. and I show up at 11:20, that’s a lack of integrity. I need to manage my time more efficiently and cease taking on more projects than even Wonder Woman could manage. I am acutely aware that integrity and honor are two words that are seemingly lost on our society today.
Recently I watched the movie “Sommersby”. It brought home to me the issue of integrity more than any other literary work I’ve ever read or previously viewed. Richard Gere portrays Jack Sommersby and Jodie Foster is cast as his wife Laurel. A synopsis of the movie read: “People remembered Jack Sommersby. They knew him as a bitter, loutish man. But when Jack returns to his hometown after the Civil War, he’s tender, caring and resourceful. Has the war changed him….or is the man calling himself Sommersby, an imposter?"
The truth is, he is really Horace Townsend, who had always lived on the seamier side of life but was a “dead ringer” for Sommersby who had actually been killed. Townsend, an imposter, discovers the rewards of integrity and respect and in the end forfeited his mortal life to retain that for himself and his “Sommersby” family. In his own words he says “without my good name, I am dead.”
When the man, Horace Townsend, a con man, took the persona of Jack Sommersby he accepted for the first time the responsibility of being a man of honor. He quite literally would die before he would forfeit that honor and his integrity.
The community surrounding the Sommersby Plantation home was in financial ruin. In the assumed role of Jack Sommersby, Gentleman Planter, Horace Townsend devises a plan for the community to raise tobacco on his Plantation. Without the labor of slaves, each contractor would have 10 acres they could purchase to be their own, thus taking them from the life long sentence of poverty as a share cropper.
When Horace is arrested and tried for a murder actually committed by Jack Sommersby, he is offered a get out of jail free card if he will only own up to his true identify. For the first time in his life Townsend possesses something more precious than he has ever known, Sommersby Family Honor and Integrity!
Denial of being Sommersby would make null and void the contracts he signed in good faith with neighbors and more importantly make his baby daughter illegitimate, not to mention the besmirching of the family name. He makes the conscious decision to assume Sommersby’s guilt in murder, a far more serious crime than he had ever committed as a shyster, himself.
He went to the gallows protecting his family, his neighbors from ruin and his integrity in tact. My grandfather was never faced with the gallows as was Mr. Townsend but somehow I feel he would have chosen the right path rather than dishonor his name and his family. The living example my grandfather left to me is the credence that: “no pillow is so soft as a clear conscience.”
