An Old Spice Moment

I have absolutely NO idea why this commercial stayed with me all these years. The sailor coming in to port, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, getting ready to meet his woman after months at sea, and wearing.......Old Spice. I think the commercial had this catchy whistling background music. It is a visual that I still remember, maybe because I was imagining Uncle Preston and Uncle Clifton, my mom's two brothers, coming home after their WWII South Pacific days and splashing on the Spice before heading down to Rotan's local honky tonk. I don't even know if Rotan, Texas, had a honky tonk. It was just fun for me to think about them two-stepping with the girls after defending their country.

Last week, that smell of Old Spice came wafting into my classroom, which is adjacent to the jr. high locker area. Years of monitoring locker areas have taught me two valuable lessons: (1) boys are basically smelly creatures until they reach the 6th Grade and (2) boys have no concept of how much is too much cologne. More is better to them. Wish they felt the same way about the number of books they take home.

Young Flint had given one of his classmates an Old Spice demonstration. He had not one but two Old Spice products--a deodorant spray and a cologne. I'm guessing he was expecting to break out into an extra sweat during track practice or something. But he decided to give good buddy Merik a demonstration of the potency of the products in the secret confines of his locker. If anyone walked though that locker room between 11:15-noon, they might have thought the entire U.S. Navy was docked.

I love this age. Eleven and twelve-year-olds are socially posturing for their peers' respect and for their own self-respect and trying desperately to "grow up." As their teacher, I feed into that. I want them to grow up, too--turn in homework without being reminded, sit in seats and quit getting up every five seconds to blow noses or kick the shins of the kid next to them. I want them to pay attention to my efforts to show them the world when, up to this point in their lives, all that has really mattered are Gail America and Texas.

But as with the Old Spice locker moment, Sixth Graders still go off in their own mind-boggling world. During a lecture today about Asoka, the great Mauryan warrior/Buddhist convert one student decided it was time to share with me the fact that she likes pumpkin pie while another asked if I had seen "Zombieland." I want to pull out my hair. I want to get within two inches of their sweet little faces and say, "And how does that relate to 300 B.C.?" Instead, I just look at them in disbelief.....and then just a bit of humorous awe. They are children. They are precious children who somehow thought I needed to know something important, too--and pumpkin pie and Zombieland seem to be right up there with Asoka's elephant warriors.

And even after these classic pre-adolescent moments, a part of me wants them to stay right here at this age as long as they can. Sixth Graders are antsy and restless, but they are also eager and easily impressed. They are noisy and talkative; they are also curious and concerned. In their eyes, I see mischief. In their hearts, I sense an incredible urge to please. Best of all, they are not yet jaded to nor poisoned by what often is perceived as a cynical world in our adult years.

Lucky me to have twenty-one students who still want to learn--and smell good at the same time.

I Will Stop and Pick Him Up

You know the Sunday School song....that one where you roll your arms in a spinning motion to simulate forward movement down a road and you sing "If a brother's in the road, I will stop and pick him up...... if a sister's in the road I will stop and pick her up....if a sinner's in the road I will stop and pick him up...and we won't tag along behind."

But, "if the Devil's in the road"--go ahead and sing along with me--"I will run right over him." Kids always loved to perform that last verse, revving up their "engines" to stomp out evil. And that's a good thing.

The trick is this. How do we know when someone is evil or just down and out? Literally, how do we know when to pull the car over, roll down the window, and offer assistance?

I have two daughters. I teach driver ed. I have insisted through the years that such actions might not be prudent; in other words, "DON'T do it--do not stop and pick up anyone!"

But I did last week. And I still have no idea if this person was a devil in disguise or a sinner in need of help--but I do know he was a person in need.

Here's the scenario: it's 1:30 in the afternoon, it's rainy and foggy, and there's a guy on the side of Highway 180 leaning up against a road sign. I notice him but drive by. I keep driving. I keep hearing that song in my head, and other thoughts that remind me I often talk a big talk about humanity and our responsibility to search for ways to help, talking passionately about not waiting until it slaps us in the face. So, two miles down the road I turn around. My justification (if one is needed because at times it is just to reassure people that I am not crazy) was that (1) it is daylight, (2) the weather is cold and miserable and only going to get worse, (3) I am only eight miles out of the nearest town, and (4) I can so I should. However, I am glad that I can pray and drive at the same time because I did.

The man needed to go east, but I was headed west. But, at this point he didn't have too many options so he threw his bag in the back seat, I invited him to sit in the front--muddy boots and all on my new car floor mats--and the turnaround took us back to Lamesa, Texas. In that eight-mile stretch, he told me what may or may not have been his true story.......his mother had died, he had no car but had caught a ride to Roswell for the funeral, he was a Christian, and that he had $20. Not that I needed the explanation. He just felt the need to tell me.

We drove to the Budget Inn where I got him a room for one night. He had the routine down, I must say, and filled out the registration card quickly and efficiently. It struck me as I drove off to my original destination that I did not ask him his name--nor did I look at the card when he wrote it. He was just the brother in the road, I guess.

Now, this isn't about a noble deed. What is noble about doing what we are supposed to do? Did he scam me? Maybe. I just know his physical appearance most definitely indicated a life of neglect (neglect perhaps due to mental issues or neglect due to financial ones). His teeth and his vision were in pitiful condition, and I would venture a pretty solid guess that he was about my age. Did I base my decision on helping him strictly on that sad appearance? Don't think so although admittedly sometimes I do.

Altruism--is it ever pure? I don't know. The motive for good deeds is a slippery slope. At some point, we all have had a reason--be it good or manipulative--for why we help others: "earning" our way to heaven, tax deductions, involvement in community affairs, trying to earn a merit badge, making a resume or college application look better, etc. The bottom line is that sometimes stuff just needs to get done. A man does not need to be sitting on the side of the road in freezing temps. Do something. Maybe I should have called the county sheriff and probably would have had it been dark. But do something.

As powerful as anything he ever said, Jesus spoke these words in Matthew 25 when talking about the final judgment. People, he said, will ask when did they ever see Jesus hungry or thirsty or needing clothes or sick? When?
"We never had the chance to do that for you, Lord!"
"Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

Maybe I did give Jesus a ride last week. The muddy footprints are there on my floor mats to prove it.