Grandpa told me there are many incidents in life that show the consequences of indecision, or halfhearted endeavor. And deferred attempts sometimes proved futile.
He always had a short story or two to illustrate.
A traveling salesman had been calling on Veedersburg merchants, and intended leaving town on the afternoon Cloverleaf passenger train. When he arrived at the depot, the train was already starting away. The drummer made an earnest, though belated effort to catch the end of the last coach and almost reached it. He came so near, and yet, completely failed. A narrow margin between success and failure, maybe, a yawning gap as wide as the difference between victory and defeat.
Several years ago Grandpa said he participated in a speaking contest that offered a gold medal award to the winner. In the preparatory training for the event, his teacher’s encouragement imbued him with too much optimism. When the judges announced their decision in favor of another contestant, Grandpa’s ego was perceptibly deflated. One of the judges, being a personal friend, informed Grandpa that he came close to winning. Despite his consolation, the fact remains, he did not get the medal.
Again, and again, he said, we fail to accomplish as much as we would like to do. Each day is a challenge for renewed courage and strength to stand on higher ground. Whether our days be many or few, we should strive not to lose the high and adventurous spirit characteristic of youth. Grandpa said that he did not mean the foolhardiness which forebodes disaster, but rather the incentive to maintain a lively interest in the potentialities of life.
Grandpa also told me about Harry P. Cooper, an exemplary young man with a high regard for Christian principles. While attending State Normal, in Terre Haute, he wrote, “My roommate leans toward the Presbyterian Church, but he doesn’t lean quite hard enough.” On another occasion Grandpa received a letter stating that there were comparatively many leaners and few lectures among the world’s benefactors. Grandpa indicated that he believed most people are favorably inclined toward the church but some lean so lightly that the pressure is scarcely noticed, and then only on special occasions. Whatever you do, he counseled, don’t do it halfheartedly.
My father had a similar admonition. He was always an early riser up and at it in the 4 o’clock hour. Summer mornings would find me awakened by his pounding on the stairway wall and yelling, “Get up, get up, get up. Here it is Monday, almost Tuesday and the week is half over. Let’s go.” I never saw him do anything halfheartedly.