Of all the things that make up life, the one that is the most puzzling to me — and at the same time intriguing — is that age-old question of “human nature.”
Simply put, that question comes down to “Why do we do what we do, and why do we leave undone what we should do?” Some folks, it seems, never ponder that whole idea. Maybe they’re the lucky ones who go through life unscathed. But my DNA isn’t put together that way.
The answer to some questions is obvious. For instance, in the area of why we don’t do some things could be the question, “Why don’t we stick our hands into the fire to see if it’s hot?” Well, duh ... We already know the answer.
But the answers to other questions might not be so obvious. Can we outrun that bull across the pasture? Will Mrs. Johnston have me go to the board and work a math problem? If she does, will it matter that I didn’t do my homework last night? (Well, actually, I knew the answer to that question; I was just playing the odds she wouldn’t call on me, and she usually did when I didn’t do the homework.)
And see, that’s the whole human nature question in a nutshell. It wouldn’t have taken any longer to do the homework than the hour I spent on the phone with my buddy, the hour I spent watching an episode of “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis,” which I’d already seen twice before, and the 45 minutes spent trying to remove a humongous zit from my nose so Katy Sue would speak to me in the hall the next morning.
So, back to the original question: “Why?”
Theologically and spiritually speaking, that’s the question Paul continually asked in the New Testament, summing up his understanding in the idea of two natures, which I understand and deal with. There’s Bob the Wonderful (that’s me), and then there’s Bob the Terrible (also me). Plus, there’s Bob the Doofus, Bob the Dummy, Bob the Procrastinator (which may be the real me) and Bob the Whatever, just to mention a few.
They’re all me.
Having children of my own was an educational experience in this area. I was a bit young myself at the time so all of what there was to learn may not have sunk in. But for the past few years, I’ve had the opportunity to learn a few more things.
Case in point: Oldest grandchild of our group, which now numbers seven with another soon to arrive, lived with us during a period of transition in his young life. We were good buddies, still are. We play games (he usually wins and not because I let him), go to Waffle House, shoot basketball — at least he does since my long gone shoulders won’t let me — and other good stuff.
One day, I learned a valuable lesson from him I’ve tried to hang onto. Now that I’m a bit older, I’ve come to believe one of the most helpful tools to use navigating life is to let some things go and not get your socks in a wad over everything. Some things just aren’t worth the effort.
With all that wisdom in hand, why then do I keep falling back? A case in point was the Sunday television showing of the ACC basketball tournament finals between Carolina and Duke some years ago; I really don’t remember when.
Sure, I graduated from UNC — spent seven years there, three as a freshman. But that was long ago, back in the dark ages when dinosaurs roamed the earth. I’m not a student now; I don’t earn my bread from working at the school. No one there knows me. All the professors I had are either retired or fossils. More and more of my classmates and dorm buddies are precious memories. It’s been forever since I’ve even set foot on campus.
Why then was I hollering at the television as the game progressed in a way I didn’t like? Little Guy, who is now a teenager, had caught on fairly early: “Gandaddy (his word), the TV can’t hear you. Why you hollering at it?”
Good question.
Why?
If and when you find out, please let me know.
Bob Wachs is a native of Chatham County and retired long-time managing editor of the Chatham News/Chatham Record, having written a weekly column for more than 30 years. During most of his time with the newspapers, he was also a bi-vocational pastor and today serves Bear Creek Baptist Church for the second time as pastor.
