Are there things you’ve heard in passing that stuck with you for no reason?
People you talk to all of the time — your parents or brothers and sisters — even someone like your pastor who perhaps, of the tens of thousands of other words, said one thing that lodged in your mind?
Bobby Williamson was a friend of mine who was a pastor at Park Place Baptist in Pearl. I would video his Sunday sermon so he could replay it on cable later in the week. One morning he told a story about a lady who was upset with her pastor because he used the word “britches” in his sermon that day. She told him pants or trousers would have sounded more polite. Her pastor asked her, “Well, what did I say right before I said britches?” She admitted she didn’t recall. “Well, what did say I say right after I said britches?” Embarrassed, she said she didn’t remember that, either. To which the preacher replied, “Then it’s a good thing I said ‘britches’ or you wouldn’t have gotten a thing out of the sermon this morning!”
I never told Bobby, but out of all of his great sermons (and he was a good preacher) that story is the only specific thing I really remember him saying.
I bring that up because as we celebrate the 250th birthday of our nation, I recall something one of my schoolteachers told us decades ago. Not to insult the teacher, but I don’t even remember who said it. But it stuck with me.
It was in the 1960s, so World War II had only ended a little over 15 years earlier. The air base was still in Greenville and our house was a “home away from home” for airmen who went to Northside Baptist Church with us. One time mama made us kids quit popping firecrackers outside. She whispered that one of our guests that day had been “shell-shocked.” Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD is what we’d call it today. The vet probably served in Korea. He was too young for World War II.
Back to my teacher, he (or she) told us that “No republic had ever lasted over 300 years.” Back then, that bothered me no more than telling me the sun won’t last but another 5 billion years. But that comment on the potential longevity of our country stuck with me.
In 1976 amidst the revelry of the Bicentennial, those words took on a little more weight because that meant we only had a 100 years left. Now, a half century later, at the nation’s 250th anniversary, if that teacher’s off-hand remark were to come to pass, our downfall could happen during the lifetimes of my grandkids and great grandkids. So now, that observation is way more than just the answer to a test question; it’s personal.
Let’s make sure our kids know what all has “come before” in our history that brought us to this day, so there will be a 300th celebration 50 years from now.
