My grandson asked “What’s in it for a good man?” as if I’d know. It took me by surprise, such a sophisticated question, and not for the first time the thought of lying crossed my mind.
"Let's talk about a thief, a bad man. Maybe we can get to it in a round about way. What’s not in it for a good man is a question I can handle better.” I replied.
“A thief isn’t welcome in his own family, and though he might be loved, his mother hugs the boy he was, not the man he has become. And if he has a girlfriend or maybe even gets married, his girlfriend or wife will want his money, which she rightly knows is not his, and so she knows she has as much claim on it as the thief.”
"Let's talk about a thief, a bad man. Maybe we can get to it in a round about way. What’s not in it for a good man is a question I can handle better.” I replied.
“A thief isn’t welcome in his own family, and though he might be loved, his mother hugs the boy he was, not the man he has become. And if he has a girlfriend or maybe even gets married, his girlfriend or wife will want his money, which she rightly knows is not his, and so she knows she has as much claim on it as the thief.”
“Oh, but it is his, isn’t it? He stole it? No?”
“Yes, he stole it, and that's why it will never be his.”
“I get it, but he can give it to his friends and it will be theirs, won't it?”
“A thief’s friends are thieves. They are the only ones who accept him for what he has become because they want the same acceptance, something they realize is hard to find and that they can't steal. They sell their friendship for friendship.”
"I am friends with my friends."
"Yes, you are."
"So does that mean I buy my friends with friendship?"
"Only if you would stop being a friend to someone who doesn't promise his friendship in return."
He thought about that for quite a while.
"That's hard to know."
"It's something we find out about ourselves as we go along."
“But the thief has friends?”
"Yes, you are."
"So does that mean I buy my friends with friendship?"
"Only if you would stop being a friend to someone who doesn't promise his friendship in return."
He thought about that for quite a while.
"That's hard to know."
"It's something we find out about ourselves as we go along."
“But the thief has friends?”
“Yes, but mostly they are thieves, so he can’t trust them. They aren’t the same kind of friends a good man has. And anyway, he can't tell the difference.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“No, but that gets at what's really in it for a good man. I guess you could say it's things that are not things.”
“Like what?”
“Real friendship. Trust. Love.”
“But what about money?”
“What about it?”
“Can a good man have money, lots of money?”
“Yes, but good money is the hardest kind of money to earn.”
“What does THAT mean? I thought money was all the same.”
“Money that was never stolen, that never comes from a thief, that didn’t harm anyone in its travels from palm to palm, is rare money indeed.”
“How can a good man tell?”
“Sometimes it’s obvious. The money of a thief, for example, is obviously rotten. But sometimes the money that paid the killer to kill gets spent in the supermarket and is used by the supermarket manager to hire the artist who designs the advertisements who spends the money to buy a chair that I built.”
“So is it all bad?”
“No, but mostly.”
“So why do you sell your chairs?”
“I need the money to live.”
“You need the thief?”
“I do.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is. That’s another thing in it for a good man.”
“What?”
“What?”
“Sadness. Friendship, trust, love, AND sadness.”
The boy was helping me build a chair. He worked diligently sanding the legs, occasionally stopping to feel his work with his fingertips. He had a fine and delicate touch. His finished work was almost as good as my own.
“Grampa, am I a good man?”
“Grampa, am I a good man?”
“You’re still a boy, but you will be.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen the past.”
“I’m asking you about the future.”
“I know. It’s all the same.”
“No it isn’t. I haven’t been there yet.”
“I suppose not, but I have.”
“How could you have? You’re here now.”
“Yes, but I was you once and now I’m in your future.”
“Will you always be in my future?”
“I believe so.”
“I’m glad.”
“That’s good, gladness is another thing that’s in it for a good man.”
"Grampa, why do you tell me these things about a thief?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why a thief, why not a murderer or a liar or a cheater?"
"Well, they are all thieves."
"How do you know?"
"It's what they are. A murderer steals lives. A liar steals the truth. A cheater steals trust."
"Oh, I get it."
"Good. Can we go back to building this chair?"
"Yeah, one more thing. What do I do if I find out my friend is a thief?"
"I'm glad you asked, that's the hardest and the easiest thing. The easy thing is being friends with the part of him that isn't a thief. The hard part is figuring out what that part is."
"Grampa, why do you tell me these things about a thief?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why a thief, why not a murderer or a liar or a cheater?"
"Well, they are all thieves."
"How do you know?"
"It's what they are. A murderer steals lives. A liar steals the truth. A cheater steals trust."
"Oh, I get it."
"Good. Can we go back to building this chair?"
"Yeah, one more thing. What do I do if I find out my friend is a thief?"
"I'm glad you asked, that's the hardest and the easiest thing. The easy thing is being friends with the part of him that isn't a thief. The hard part is figuring out what that part is."
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