All things are determined by our attitudes and our actions."

All things are determined by our attitudes and our actions."

 As said by some sweet lady at Clarksville First Church of the Nazarene in the mid 80's
In the early 80's at the completion of my college education, I began to apply at the local Boards of Education for a teaching position. I applied with the Board of the school system that I grew up in, the Board of the county my parent's family lived in and the Board of the county where I attended college. Surely, I thought, someone needed an eager young man with a Distributive Teaching Major in History with endorsements in economics and geography and a secondary teaching certificate. But alas, much to my chagrin I only got one interview. The Superintendent of the county I grew up in called me in for a courtesy interview before telling me he suggested I consider other employment. I was devastated and heart broken. I had spent the better parts of six years struggling in every way to get educated only to be told I didn't cut the mustard.
To ensure that I would be gainfully employed, i continued to work for the processing plant that employed me while I was in college as I tried to figure out my calling. The plant paid me the princely sum of $3.56 an hour to be a floater. I filled in wherever was needed from a vacation relief truck driver to someone helping on the processing line. This had not been in my plans as I studied in college.
I was assigned one Monday, on a beautiful fall afternoon, to make the Hopkinsville deliveries. I loaded the truck and headed down highway 41 toward Hopkinsville. My first stop was at the Minit Mart in Pembroke. After making the delivery and having the invoice signed, I returned to find the truck was over heating. I went back in the store to call someone in Hopkinsville for road side assistance. After placing the call I chatted with the ladies clerking that day about how friendly the citizens of Pembroke were. They likened their town to Mayberry and how everyone knew each other and what was going on in their lives. I left the store and made my way to a spot on the sidewalk where I could sit and wallow in self pity at my dire straits. It would be my "pity perch" so to speak. The site of my pity party. I sat Indian style with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands waiting on the mechanic.
After a time I saw a man walking up the sidewalk. Our eyes met and he made his uneasy stride towards me. It seemed he had began his daily inebriation a little early that day. He plopped down by me and quickly cut to the chase. He asked if I had any money to buy his lunch with. I dug deep into the pockets of my Levi's and pulled out some lint and 3 dimes, a nickel and 4 pennies, a king's ransom, 39 whole cents. I looked at the change and then at his ragged face. I quickly made a fist and handed the change over all the while explaining that it was all the money I had and that he would eat better today than I would. He unsteadily got up and headed inside the Minit Mart as I mentally returned to my solitary pity party.
As the voices ran through my mind saying harsh things like, "you are really using that college education aren't you, is this what you went to school for?, you won't amount to much in life," my new found friend returned. He sat down by me on the sidewalk and I heard a rattle. I looked over to see him shaking a plastic sack the size of a loaf of bread filled with chicken gizzards covered in hot sauce. He carefully opened the sack, looked at me and with a tooth gapped grin and offered me the first one. I declined his generous offering and encouraged him to enjoy himself. We sat in silence, the only sounds heard were the crunching of gristle and the smacking of lips and the occasional licking of fingers.
At the conclusion of his meal, the gentleman leaned back and released a long sigh of satisfaction over his afternoon gizzards delight. He rose more steadily to his feet and again thanked me for his meal. I weakly waved and whispered, "no problem."
Directly the mechanic arrived and had me back on the road for Hopkinsville. I wondered then and have wondered for the over the almost 40 years since this event happened on the "actions and attitudes" by both myself and my newfound friend. I felt sorry for myself over what I felt I didn't have and those feelings nearly consumed my life. My companion concentrated on what he was given. He figuratively and literally stumbled upon a young man who was willing to make a college student's version of the offering of the widow's mite to meet his immediate needs and he was so thankful for it that he was willing to share the first fruits of his bounty with his benefactor. It has taken much too long for me to realize the measure of a person's worth isn't tied to the accumulation of worldly possessions or the chasing of scholarly pursuits but to the difference you can in others lives.
Now, I can respond a little more strongly than "no problem" to the thanks he gave me that day for his lunch. "Thanks for what you tried to teach me with your actions.
Unfortunately, I thought I was a teacher then but now realize I was and always will be a student in the school of life."