photo credit: JacobRuffMy mother had no illusions about her appearance. She didn’t think she was ugly, but believed herself to be the least attractive in her family. As her daughter, I disagreed. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I hoped that I could look just like her when I grew up. She didn’t think she was particularly intelligent, but knew she had plenty of common sense.
My mother rarely commented about the things she believed were her virtues. She did try to instill respect for certain behaviors and attitudes, as well as disdain for others. Occasionally she would illuminate the lesson with a story from her own experiences.
One story that has caused a great deal of pain and regret in my life was a story about promises.
After WWII housing was scarce as hens’ teeth. My parents lived in a rented room with bathroom privileges (but no kitchen privileges) in Kansas City, Kansas for several years until my dad took a job in Atlanta, Georgia. That rented room was the best housing they could afford, and many of their contemporaries were no better off.
When they arrived in Atlanta, they had to stay in a seedy hotel while they looked for more desirable living quarters. They learned of an Airstream trailer for sale through a friend that lived in the park where the Airstream was located. While the thought of living in a trailer, confined within less than 200 sq. ft. of space, might be unthinkable for most people today, in 1947 it was the answer to their prayers. If they could just somehow come up with the money, they dreamed, they would have a place of their own, a kitchen of their own, and they would have privacy for the first time in their married lives.
Mom and Dad had used all of their small savings to move themselves to Atlanta, and no bank would think of loaning them any money. Fortunately my mother’s father offered them the purchase price of the Airstream, and they gleefully accepted.
Many times during my childhood I heard stories about that little trailer. More often than not, part of the story included how Mom and Dad saved every cent they could and repaid my grandfather within three years.
Grandfather had told them not to try to make monthly payments to him. He preferred that they put the money into a savings account until they had enough to pay back the full amount.
After the money had been repaid, my grandfather told Mom that he had never thought she and Dad would pay him back. All of his other children had borrowed from him, but Mom and Dad were the only ones who lived up to their end of the bargain.
That accomplishment was one of the few things for which my mother was proud of herself. Repaying the loan was to Mom a source of considerable pride, and the one thing that she believed distinguished her from her brothers and sisters. She kept her promise.
Both as a child and an adult I have never made a promise that I did not intend to keep, and I have tried very hard to keep every promise that I have made. As a child, I cannot remember ever finding it necessary to try to change the terms of a bargain. There were times that I called myself stupid for having agreed to something, but I was able to see it through. There were times when I ranted to myself at the inequity of a situation, but I stuck with it. I wasn’t proud of myself, just happy that I could do what I was supposed to do—keep my promises.
As an adult I haven’t been so fortunate. There have been times when I have found it necessary to request a modification of the terms, an extension of time to repay a debt, the lowering of interest charged or some other change. I asked only because I had no other choice, and each time I was embarrassed in the asking. Not just because I couldn’t keep my side of the bargain, but because I wasn’t able to live up to my parents’ example.
There are millions of people tonight who have a lump of ice in their stomachs. It’s there because they know that they can’t keep their promises. Promises to banks, mortgage companies, credit card companies, friends, or family members.
It doesn’t matter that America broke its promise to them. It doesn’t matter that they were promised that if they went to school and made good grades, were willing to work long and hard, were honest and upstanding citizens, they would be able to have a job that would pay them a living wage, would be able to afford to go to the dentist and doctor when needed, and would be able to keep their promises.
The jobs they worked so hard to prepare themselves for have been shipped overseas. The mortgage loan modifications they were promised, while their politicians gave billions of their tax dollars to the money men, have not materialized. The promised relief from arbitrarily raised interest rates and obscene service fees from credit providers isn’t as was promised.
The embarrassment, pain and humiliation millions of Americans are experiencing tonight aren’t shared by the Wall Street elite or the politicians. The people and organizations that truly bear the responsibility for the economic situation in which we find ourselves are not embarrassed or humiliated by their actions. They pat themselves on the back, give themselves bonuses and charge large sums of money for appearing as motivational speakers.
They take pride in what they have done. They measure success and personal worth not by character, but by the content of their portfolios and the enormity of the power they wield over the lives of so many. To their minds, promises are only words. Promises are for the little people.
Words can have value too. Their value is in the ideas and emotions which they express. The best ideas and the noblest of emotions produce the words from which solemn promises are made. The kind of promises little people make.
Like solemn promises, little people have value too. In a world that worships celebrity, power, status and wealth, it is sometimes difficult to see us, but we are always here.
We are always here, always working to hold up our end of the bargain, always struggling to keep our promises—always sorry when we cannot.
God bless America.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
what an inspiring and true story. thank you for stating the truth that so many of us struggle with everyday and often every night as they lay in bed and run so much through their heads. you have given many a sense of releif that they are not alone. thank you maryann for both your beauty, common sense,intelligence,and being much like your mother. you are a beautiful woman both inside and out. thank you for your insight….keep it coming girl!
Thank you Mary Ann for sharing this piece on Keeping Promises. You certainly carry on your mother’s “common sense.” Yesterday I made a trip down to Franklin. We drove one of the residential roads. I could not get over the massive homes (Mansions to me) that lined the road. How wrong it seemed as I remembered the words of several of our folks who work with the homeless everyday. Many are there because they were faced with hard times just like your parents. Nashville holds claim to being one of the richer cities in the US. Certainly we should be able to do more for the thousands of homeless in the Davidson County area.
In the last 20 years I have called 3 states my home. In each of these states I lived in cities that were the “biggest and best” within the borders. Always there was a tremendous amount of poverty to behold and always, if one knew where to look, were “Mac Mansions”. More than a few times Debbie and I have had conversations about the disparity that runs throughout our economical systems. Tent cities, sleeping bags hidden in bushes, large appliance boxes sheltering a mother and her children, Missions that preach the gospel of “getting right with your life” while they hand out limited portions of starch and fat filled meals are not unusual anywhere in this the country that claims to be the land of the free, home of the brave. It seems the choice of many is to wear blinders, or to be completely blind, and to remain untouched by the poor, homeless, those yearning to breathe free. We no longer, it seems, lift up our arms. There is no golden gate that allows all passage. May God forgive us for what we have become. May God forgive us for what we have chosen to endure. May God forgive us for talking the talk and refusing to walk the walk. Until I, and others, can walk in line with how we talk, we will remain as guilty as those who simply do not care.