Grandpa Howard was a humble preacher man, although he had great intellect.
He also farmed some. He told me the story of a wheat field he had examined. He said he had a field of wheat that looked very encouraging from the roadside, but upon closer examination he observed that a comparatively few heads were filled with grain. The blighted heads stood straight, while those heavy laden were bent over.
Likewise in the great field of humanity, he noted, empty heads may stand proudly erect, but those well filled are generally inclined.
My own chemistry professor at Purdue seemed humble despite his Nobel prize. “Ray,” he told me, “half of what I tell you is wrong. I just don’t know which half.” I’ve used that admonition many times since.
Grandpa also told me of times he had failed. The neighbor was scrupulously honest, truthful, and plainspoken. Grandpa borrowed his sled promising to return it the next morning. Grandpa had several shocks of corn out in the field and wanted to haul them in before the snow melted. The weather was moderating and indicated a general thaw. Although Grandpa made good use of the time, it took longer to complete the job than he expected. Supposing it would make no difference to the owner, he kept the sled another day and brought it back early the following morning.
By this time the snow was nearly gone and a drizzling rain had begun. His neighbor had shock corn also, and unknown to Grandpa had intended to use the sled the same day that Grandpa had asked for it, but postponed his own hauling in order to accommodate Grandpa.
The neighbor was disappointed and expressed his feelings in no uncertain terms. His scathing remark savored of the old adage, “the truth itself is not believed from one who often has deceived.”
Sometimes Grandpa counseled that the truth itself is best untold. My father had a similar adage: “Don’t ever lie, but you don’t need to always tell everybody everything you know.”
Grandpa told the story of the young man who intended to keep the approaching marriage a secret, but he was so elated over the prospect that he decided to tell a few confidential friends. In each instance, the parties were requested not to repeat the information. However, before the wedding occurred, he told so many that the event was no surprise to his associates. One confidant remarked, “The only reason he asked us to be quiet is that he wanted to tell everybody himself.” If you can’t keep a secret do not expect others to be inviolate.
He also mentioned a fellow townsman of his who had inquired about a stranger who had just moved in to town. The townsman asked Grandpa this pert question, “Who is that little man with big feet?” The newcomer was a friendly man with whom Grandpa became acquainted during the years that followed, and Grandpa never heard him speak harmful of any person. Yes, his feet may seem a little oversized, for his boots were too big. Incidentally the other man had a “big mouth.” Which of the two would you have preferred to live as a next-door neighbor?
It has been said there is so much bad in the best of us and so much good in the worst of us that it ill behooves us to talk about the rest of us.