I’m a regular church attendee, and I’m usually there with our eldest granddaughter, who not only likes the service but is involved and helps with Sunday school. If you have not guessed by now, I’m a proud grandfather.
My nature is to be an observer, always with an eye to answering that nagging question of “why?”
I don’t underestimate human nature, on either the negative side or the positive, but I do frequent places and activities where the grins and smiles are often, and the grimaces few.
A few years back, I invited a man to join one of the service clubs. He was in his early 30s, and a product of his generation. In his youth, he decided that he needed some tough-to-hide tattoos. Maybe that’s the wrong connotation.
He has the body art that he wanted and he’s proud of it. I’m not part of that generation, and “ink” is not my thing, but the ink did not dilute his business acumen even a little.
So, this successful guy, a local businessman and good family man, attends a service club meeting. You know service clubs, that dying breed where their numbers have been dwindling for the past three decades, and one could say that they are desperate for members.
The Boomer members take one look at his ink and write him off.
They didn’t know a damn thing about this man, just that they didn’t like his style because of the colors on his skin. Don’t think for a second that I will be judgmental about what you do with your skin. It’s your body. It’s not my concern, and I’m not going to judge you on it. Not even for a split second.
I am, however, profoundly disappointed in how my contemporaries act when they are confronted with a quality that just does not look like they do.
If you were born in the 50’s, 60’s or 70’s, the up-and-coming generations don’t look like us, and they don’t act like us, but I contend that they have just as much to offer and just as much value to add to society. So much for men and women in a group, acting like they are part of the “get off of my lawn” generation.
The next generation of movers and shakers doesn’t look like Boomers, and they won’t act like Boomers. The Boomers didn’t dress or look like their “Greatest Generation” parents, but the rebellion was different.
That goes double for what was remarkable a couple of generations back, but it’s not even remarkable today. I’ve run into the “get off my lawn” group while trying to recruit talent to live in the valley.
Fifteen years ago, a woman who would have made a terrific addition to our team was not up for the move to the Ohio Valley because she was worried that her Asian husband might get, what she called, the “hairy eyeball”.
This does not speak well for us as a society, or for the Boomers and Gen X. I hope that it’s better today. Hope, and pray.
This past Sunday, while sitting in my regular pew, I looked back to the narthex and saw a tatted-up son of a friend helping an elderly pillar of this community into his assistive listening device and on to his regular pew. Both men were smiling, and there was genuine affection; the near three-generation age difference disappeared.
Both knew not to a judge a book by it’s cover.
The older man, knowing that he could count on the younger man, and the younger man knowing, at some level, and with a little luck, he would be as good and distinguished as the man he just helped. I had a great grin watching this all take place, and hope that a quarter century from now I can count on my granddaughter’s generation for the same assistance and quiet respect.
We are not that different.
I think they will be there for us, and will pick from the best of what my generation has to offer, and will enhance it with the very best of what they have learned. If your contemporaries try to judge the upcoming generations by the “colors on their skin,” or the color or length of their hair, or the clothes they wear (or don’t wear), it’s your ethical and moral responsibility to set them straight.
Like it or not, the next generation is going to be different. That does not mean it’s going to be better or worse, and I contend that there are just as many great 20-year-olds today as there were in 1966, 1976, 1986, and so forth.
Styles change.
People really don’t, so don’t judge.
Observe and appreciate quality people, regardless of the colors and placement of their tattoos.
