Integrity. That’s a tough one. Hard to define, but easy to see in others. And even easier to not see in others … to see not in others … others not to see in. Whatever.
Can you imagine our current White House squatter invoking the world with a straight face? He who insults allies and praises despots on a daily basis? Who lies repeatedly and ridiculously and then throws tantrums at those who actually point out these lies? He who calls out a seven-year old girl for believing in Santa Claus? It’s the classic bully approach – make yourself feel better by tearing someone else down. They say character (or integrity) is what you do when no one is watching. In this man’s world that’s called something else – unspeakable tragedy.
It’s like a very sad Hallmark movie – The Commander in Grief, staring Alec Baldwin and Connie Sellecca.
Personally, I’d like to see and hear a little less of this guy. Absence wouldn’t make the heart grow fonder but it would lower my blood pressure. There are quite a few strong cases against unlimited access.
Remember the days when things actually closed? Stores, supermarkets, banks, gas stations? I remember driving down the 99 in central California heading down to LA. I loved driving that stretch at night because it was quiet and bereft of artificial light. This was before the days of 24-hour drive-ins, mini-markets and restaurants. My trusty AM-FM radio (remember those?) often played an ad for the Blueberry Hill café, just south of Livingston. In those days there was a traffic light on 99 in Livingston; yes a stop light on a freeway. The Blueberry Hill was open 24 hours; the only place I can remember on that road that was, and its neon sign was a glorious beacon, not because I loved the food (I actually never stopped) but because it was a rare sign of life and light in an otherwise murky evening. I thought it was pretty cool. Made my trip feel more like an adventure than a long dreary drive.
Alas, the traffic light is long gone and the Blueberry Hill is permanently closed, just like a part of my youth.
But I digress.
It feels like integrity is a bit like the old Blueberry Hill café, a little mysterious, a little hard to find, but it’s there if you know where to look.
I believe to have genuine integrity, one must not only posses a strong sense of self, but also have genuine empathy for others.
Years ago, after my father passed away I was rushing out of town on my way to Fresno to speak at his service. Rolling down a hill, I took a turn little too tightly and caused some damage to my struts (insert joke here). I was able to get the car into Fincher’s in Healdsburg. I was distraught and told Tim the situation. He took my car right in, fixed it on the spot and got me out of there and on the road in less than a hour, telling me to pay when I got back into town. Tim is a man of his word, a straight shooter, funny and smart with eclectic taste. He is also a man of unimpeachable (yes, that was on purpose) integrity. I have told Tim and Deanna, only half kidding, that if they ever retire I will simply stop driving. In fact, when they (wisely) stopped working on BMWs a while back, I immediately set out to sell mine and purchase a car that met his exacting standards. That Nash Rambler was the best decision of my entire vehicular life.
You do a job right because it’s the right thing to do. You act responsibly because it’s the right thing to do. You behave honorably because it’s the right thing to do.
Integrity demands a strong moral center. Something that is on display on a daily basis, in small, as well as large choices. Something built on a foundation of creating not destroying, on embracing not repelling, on building more bridges and fewer walls. Too often those of flabby integrity tell us things they think we want to hear, to avoid, conflict, to incite anger, to deflect responsibility. Like a great athlete, folks with integrity make people around them better, not more fearful. Those people of character stand strong and firm, look others straight in the eye and tell them truths – not to hurt, but to help.
Integrity isn’t easy. Or flashy. But I think it’s pretty damn sexy.
Steven welcomes your comments. You can reach him at st****@my***********.com.
