Altruism Lost
Sometimes an opportunity presents itself that requires your immediate action – and if you don’t move, you will regret it for rest of your life. I was standing around in Wal-Mart the other night watching people checkout while waiting for Cheryl, and I found myself going over and over an event from 35 years ago.
In 1974 Gail, my first wife, and I were very poor. We lived in a tiny house trailer in the country in Miami County, Kansas, and were saving money, and garnering the will power, to undertake building our own house. We didn’t have much and didn’t want to spend anything, so we frequented farm auctions in the neighborhood for stuff we needed, and for the ambiance of a sale. These auctions were held to dispose of a lifetime of accumulated property.
A variety of farm folk and the occasional city folk could be found at farm auctions. The farm folk all knew each other and shied away from the strange city folk. We were new to the neighborhood and didn’t know anyone, and obviously weren’t quite farm folk or city folk and so were ignored by all. These auctions first sold all the small, basically worthless, stuff which would be laid out on long tables. Machinery, furniture and appliances were sold later, and then sometimes the farm itself. The auctioneer was working through one table while I watched, not interested in anything there.
The farmer, who was no longer with us, must have been quite a fisherman at one time. At one place on the table there was a bundle of fishing rods – casting rods, spinning rods, bait rods – all with reels, all pretty old but perhaps functional still. They were piled up right in front of me at the end of the table. Next to me was a boy, perhaps 12 years old, who was eying those rods. Next to him was a man, probably his dad. The boy was having an urgent conversation with his dad, obviously about maybe bidding on those rods. After some moments of one-sided conversation, his dad nodded. The boy sidled up to the table.
The auctioneer worked his way down the table until he reached the rods. He held a couple up and asked, “What am I bid for these fishing rods?” His face shining with anticipation, the boy bid a dollar. Then a two dollar bid came, this from a grown man facing me from across the table. This man was small in stature and other ways. He was older, maybe 45, with short graying hair, bristly face, and squinty eyes. He aimed his squinty eyes at the boy and a small sneer appeared. He was looking for a fight and intended to win. The boy bid three dollars. Squinty bid four. Maybe he could only win fights with boys. The boy bid five, looking at his dad. Squinty bid six. The boy looked at his dad again. Clearly a pre-set limit had been reached. Dad gave a slight shake of his head. The boy was not to get the old fishing rods.
I opened my mouth, preparing to bid over squinty with the vague thought that I would buy the rods and give them to the boy. It wasn’t fair or manly for squinty to out bid the boy. It was cheap and mean. But, I had to think about it for a few seconds. What if I offended the dad? What was I thinking about spending money I did not have?
A few seconds delay was all it took to close the bidding. It had only been the boy and the man, no reason to prolong things hoping for another bidder to step in. My opportunity was gone. The boy, crestfallen, turned away.
Later I complained to Gail about my inaction. But, she hadn’t seen the affair and didn’t care much about a boy buying some fishing rods. I did, and I do. This incident has stuck in my memory like permanent glue. I can still see the whole thing, I can still hear it, and I regret my inaction to this day. For all I know, this evil deed has stuck with the boy, too. If I knew who he was and where I could find him, I would apologize for not acting on my prompting, for it was a prompting. The good angel sitting on my shoulder urged me to act and I failed.
Was this a test? Engineers are cursed with an inability to act quickly. Quick decisions are dangerous. Mistakes can be made. People can be hurt. I have tried to do better over the intervening years. Sometimes, I visualize situations in advance so I am prepared to act quickly should it be necessary. Sometimes I have acted quickly, but more often, not. Usually, I have to think it through, do the analysis.
So, I still have to replay the event, to remind myself of my regret, to remind myself that sometimes one has to act instantly for the good of others, to pay attention to those urgent promptings. To remind myself that I am still sorry I did not buy a bunch of old fishing rods for a kid.
April 12, 2009
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