By Chris Evans“You are what you eat,” as purported by an age-old saying.
Does that mean I’m a shrimp or a blackberry?
I like to think of myself as a bowl of sherbet – maybe a little oozy on the edges, but firm and cool in the center.
While the literal interpretation of that adage is quite difficult to show, it’s easier to swallow once we understand the metaphoric thesis of the phrase.
In other words, what it really means is that we are perceived by how we conduct our lives, because how we conduct our lives shapes who we are.
We are what we do. We are where we work. We are how we talk. We are how we vote. We are where we go at night. We are where we go to church, if we do. We are how much we drink or how much we swear. We are whatever we do.
Because we live in a society that considers certain people – because of what they do, who they are or where they work – public individuals with fewer rights to privacy than the average mill worker, then we must conduct ourselves more deliberately in order to avoid embarrassment. In assuming certain roles, we must accept transparencies uncommon for the common man.
In actuality, what we do in our private lives is no longer our business.
What we find is that our bedrooms are not a refuge from public scrutiny, our habits are held in public display, old scars are never allowed to heal and politics and money drive everything including Aunt Daisy.
Public people can’t afford to make mistakes as can the average Joe. Good, bad or ugly, that’s the cold stark reality of a free society that’s evolved through the Information Age. There’s no room for a stubbed toe in a world of kick-ball mentality where the game is viewed on slow-motion replay at 6 and 10.
Last week, the woman selected to be Kentucky’s next education commissioner declined to take the position after increasing scrutiny from the media. She blamed news reporters for the so-called “noise” that affected her decision to not accept the job. Barbara Erwin, whom the state Board of Education selected in May, said she would retire rather than start her new post in Kentucky amid such a circus. Questions about a missing personnel file and a police investigation at her old job near Chicago had been raised by reporters over the past few weeks.
Despite the investigative reporting and her subsequent resignation, state education officials said they still believed she was the best person for the job.
For Erwin the stakes had become too high. She recognized the treacherous road ahead and took a different path.
For all of us, there are roads to success and roads to disaster. They are not clearly marked. Safe travel along the public roadways requires near-divine self control – retroactive to pre-adolescence – cautious steering in heavy traffic whether you commute through a big city or along rural highways, and it takes a whole lot of luck to get home unscathed.
As the parable of Job tells us, there are pitfalls and rocky roads even for the righteous. The ultimate judgment is not granted by friends, neighbors, kinfolk nor news anchors.
No, mere mortals cannot rule on the big question, but they can darn sure publish a stinging appraisal that lasts a lifetime. The piling on mob-mentality sometimes seizes public control of public – and private – scrutiny and compels some to act as though they might not normally.
What we, as civilized individuals should do, is answer the question of whether we have compassion for the sinner along with that natural contempt for the sin. For without empathy, we are guilty of casting an unfavorable first stone. And sometimes, they bounce back.
Chris Evans is editor and publisher of The Crittenden Press. You can reach him at chrisevans@the-press.com.
