Unfortunately, too many people are “sobered up” by something that happens to a loved one that has far greater consequences than simply having too much to drink.
As I have grown older, from time-to-time I look back on my own life and like all men, realize that I was once a boy. In those days, we did not have the myriad of social problems that young people face today. But still, I wonder how many of us made it.
I think it’s because God looks out for those who really need another chance. It is often said that girls are special and while I don’t want to be too emotional, I think boys are special too, especially those five grandsons we are blessed to have. This gives rise to that old saying, “It’s a miracle how imperfect parents can produce perfect grandchildren.”
For parents who have sons, along with those fine young men who read my column, here is something written by Allen Beck that you may find interesting. He said, “A boy has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a firecracker, and when he makes something he has five thumbs on each hand.”
Now I’m not sure this would describe all boys, but it does serve to illustrate how special boys really are. If you happen to be a man who was fortunate enough to grow up in a godly home, to have loving and caring parents and have used this foundation and the opportunities it has afforded to become a great success, then you know how blessed you really are. Please contrast this scenario with the article I mentioned earlier titled, “It Can’t Be My Boy,” and see if it would apply to you.
It begins, “Once there was a little boy. When he was 3 weeks old his parents turned him over to a babysitter. When he was 2 years old they dressed him up like a cowboy and gave him a gun. When he was 3 everybody said, ‘How cute!’ as he went lisping a beer commercial jingle. When he was 6, his father dropped him off at Sunday School on his way to the golf course. When he was 8 his parents gave him a BB gun to shoot sparrows. His aim was bad and he learned to shoot windshields by himself.”
It continues, “When he was 10, he spent his afternoons squatting at the drug store newsstand reading comic books. His mother wasn’t home and his father was too busy. When he was 13, he told his parents other boys stayed out as late as they wanted to, so they said he could too. It was easier that way. When he was 14, they gave him a deadly 2-ton machine, wangled a license for him to drive and told him to be careful. When he was 15, the police called his home one night and said, ‘We have your boy, he’s in trouble.’ Screamed the father, ‘It can’t be my boy!’ But it was.”
Here are a few comments about this article that will serve to place things in the proper perspective. It is never my motive in writing this column to try to make any person feel guilty. In the long run, this kind of motivation will accomplish very little. I understand human nature well enough to know that we do the things we really want to do and then try to find a way to rationalize our actions later.
My prayer is that each of us will be reminded of just how special our families really are and will do everything we can to help our children grow up to be good citizens and first-class human beings. God bless America.
(Editor’s Note: Jim Davidson is a motivational speaker and syndicated columnist. He may be contacted at 2 Bentley Drive, Conway, AR 72034.)