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| Be
Sweet |
Whenever I left my late mother's home, and we are talking a
period of over 40 years, she would always end her goodbyes
with these two words:
"Be sweet."
When I was a child on my way to a friend's birthday party, I
suppose that meant not to stick my finger in the cake or do
a lot of whining and crying.
In my teen years it meant not to steal any hubcaps.
As an adult, I guess now she was beseeching me not to rob a
liquor store, engage in any insider trading, and to go out
amongst them each day with a smile and agreeable disposition.
I can't recall sticking my finger into too many birthday cakes,
but I very likely ignored the part about no whining nor crying
when things didn't go my way on occasion- such as when I pinned
the tail on the donkey's esophagus.
I never stole a hubcap. Not one.
As an adult I've never robbed anything nor have I engaged in much
of any kind of trading that was profitable.
But that other stuff- the daily smile, the agreeable disposition-
well, I've had my failures.
I notoriously have not been sweet to such individuals as waiters
and waitresses I've deemed slow or unable to service correctly
what I considered to be the simplest of orders.
Many a rental car clerk has known my verbal wrath, not to mention
motel housekeepers who bang on my door too quickly after the
first crow of morning, and people I don't know who address me as
"buddy".
Yet, my mother's words, so simple, were so implicit:
Be sweet.
We have recognized the terror that is the violence amongst us
today. Television has moved it out front of eating disorders,
Satan worship, and women who run with wolves, which is a certain
sign it is presently the No. 1 discussable public issue.
The drive-by shootings. Another kid shot dead in the school.
The yellow police line tape and pools of drying blood on a mean
street on the 11 o'clock news.
The money we will spend, the hours we will study and discuss in
an effort to find a solution.
But isn't it right there in Miss Christine's words- Be sweet?
We aren't sweet. The truth is we don't honor sweet. We don't
even like sweet. Sweet is weak.
Women go to classes to learn not to be sweet.
Men. We've got an entire generation of young toughs out there
who are drunk and dying on their own testosterone.
Being sweet can get you killed in that group.
It's a manhood thing. An Atlanta Falcons football player, Andre
Rison, decides somebody has challenged his manhood outside an
Atlanta nightclub. So he goes to his car and gets his gun.
No. No. Be sweet.
Be kind and be gentle. Be tolerant. Be forgiving and slow to
anger. Be tender and be able to cry. Be kind to old people and
dogs and don't cut off any part of anybody else's anatomy.
Be loving. Be tender. Share. Don't pout. Don't be so loud.
Hold a puppy. Kiss a hand. Put your arms around a frightened
child.
Make an outstanding athletic play and then don't do
The King Tut Butt Strut to bring attention to yourself and
point to the inadequacies of the vanquished. Be sweet. The
wonders that might do. The wonders that just might do.
I can still hear you, Mama.
-- Lewis Grizzard
The Atlanta Journal
January 7, 1994 |
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