Spoken Word Messages - Page 64

We all live with some uncertainties; we all at times fear failure; we all worry about many things that haven't happened; and we all have regrets about some things that have happened.  And as a year comes close to its closing, there is lingering in the minds of most of us some thoughts as to what we have done and what we have failed to do. 

There is a sentence currently quoted which says that "Every time history repeats itself it does so at a higher price."1 This would surely seem to be so, for with each repeat performance there are more people and more complexities. 

Great among the great qualities of character is the great gift of gratitude.  Gratitude makes all service, however one sided, seem satisfying. 

For some purposes, all the people in the world could be put into two categories: those we know and those we don't know. 

It is likely that we all have some regrets in life, and times of wondering why we didn't do some things differently. 

In the wandering adventures of the Odyssey, there appears this yearning, heartfelt plea: "Be not long away from home."1

The momentous events of these days come too swiftly to absorb, with the ever-threatening areas of eruption, and the impact of man's launching out into unknown orbits. And to the tensions of these times, we sometimes react in one of two ways, each the opposite of the other: We sometimes seem to go about as usual, as if there were no newly threatening forces—or, we sometimes seem to brood, as if there were no satisfactory solution.

Because of their love for us, or because of the spirit of sincere service, parents, and others also, do many things for us—and so often, so many of us find ourselves so much on the receiving side. 

Many centuries ago, Cicero wrote a remarkable essay on old age, which has in it as much of wisdom for youth as for those who are older: “… the harvest of old age," be said, "is . . . the memory and rich store of blessings laid up in earlier life."1

We recall once more these words of William James: "The greatest discovery of my generation is that human beings can alter their lives by altering their attitudes of mind."1

Always and ever before us is the question of freedom and force—of what we do willingly, because we want to, and what we do because we feel we must.

There is much more to say concerning the little things of life: Men often learn to carry great loads, to carry great weight and worry with calmness and courage—yet lose their tempers at the little things, and say what they never intended to say, and do what they never intended to do—for which they are later sincerely sorry.

Many years ago, as he was working in a London laboratory, Sir Alexander Fleming observed the retarding action of an unidentified mold on a colony of bacteria.

These many years on the air turn our thoughts today to time. Millions who were listening when this broadcast first began have since left this life. Millions have since been born—have gone to school, have served at war, have families of their own and are carrying a share of the weight of the world. History is long.

Our consideration of friendship and confidence and trust in past weeks leads us at last to what a gentleman is—or isn't.  For a word so freely used, it seems that few have defined it. 

In speaking of the factors of friendship—trust and confidence being uppermost among them—we have come to the conclusion that finding someone who can be trusted is one of the most sincerely satisfying assurances in all the relationships of life. 

Last week we talked of some factors of friendship.  There are some further sides of this significant subject that could well be considered; among them, trust and the keeping of confidences.

We have in mind 'today one of the most beautiful relationships in life, and one of the most difficult to define. Aside from loved ones, aside from close of kin, friendship makes life most meaningful. 

Sometimes we may become weary of the sameness of our surroundings and feel that we should like to get away from familiar people and places.  But often it is only for a brief time. 

There comes to mind today a subject which, for want of better words, might be called the habit of re-arranging—that is, re-arranging without really resolving—such as papers on our desks, clutter in our cupboards and closets, and problems on our minds that we turn over and over again without actually settling or disposing of, or coming to any acceptable conclusion. 

Last week we talked of the impossibility of being ever altogether on our own for there is no way of endangering ourselves, or doing what we shouldn't do, without it having its effect on others. 

Some days ago, we heard a father and his son discussing a situation in which there was some risk—not moral risk, but physical risk.  The father, as fathers often are, was cautious.  The son, as sons often are, was eager to go ahead.  And finally, the son said, "Don't worry.  If I, do it, I'll take the full responsibility.  I'll be completely on my own." That should have been reassuring.

Often, we tell ourselves what we will do next summer.  But as to this summer, it comes and goes so swiftly—so swiftly that we sometimes wonder if we're doing much of anything that is solid and significant.  And in reaction, we sometimes rush and reach without too much discrimination as to what it is we rush and reach for. 

An eighteenth-century philosopher is credited with a searching sentence: "Freedom is as little lost in a day as won in a day."1

We have come through another season of commencement, and another season of many marriages, and have been retaught—or should have been—a profound lesson of life: that every ending is but a beginning. In considering the beginnings of many marriages, earnestly we could wish that all of these very beautiful beginnings would be dedicated to the ideal of enduring, always and forever.

In writing to the question "What Are Fathers Made of?"1 Paul Harvey has given us some delightful pictures and impressions: When school grades are not “so good as he thinks they should be," "He scolds his son . . . though he knows it's the teacher's fault.”   Fathers grow old faster than people."1 Fathers can't cry, "While mothers can cry where it shows.” Fathers are what give daughters away to other men who are not -nearly good enough . . . so they can have grandchildren that are smarter than anybody's.” 

Sometimes people seem to want to do things that they don't seem to want to be personally responsible for.  They want the result without the responsibility.  And often they resort to various devices by which they attempt to hide behind others, or to impersonalize their actions. 

Among the many questions considered at commencement, it is proper that this one should recur: Who pays for our education? (And a corollary question, "Who benefits by it?")

Our thoughts have recently been turned to some words that give much meaning to remembrance, some words by Clara Edwards, from a song which closes with these couplets:

It sometimes seems that almost everyone wants almost all of almost everyone s time these days. There are so many things to do, so many social functions, so many interests and activities and organized endeavors that will take as much time as we will let them take.