The Mojo of Gray
The Mojo of Gray
When my kids lie, it isn’t a bad thing; they think there is a good reason for it. They know that I know the truth. They are not sure how I know or even why I know, but they can see it on my face and hear it in my response.
There are times when calling them on the lie would interrupt a good lesson. The lesson isn’t about telling the truth it’s more about developing the ability to discern shades of gray. The obvious lie deserves my palm struck against my forehead with a look on my face that says, “You think I am that dumb? I don’t believe you are.”
I arrive home and see the lawn un-mowed. When I enter the house, one son is playing video games and the other lying in bed talking to his girlfriend in CA, my wife is upstairs painting and the cats who probably just came in wanting to go out again. The house is peaceful.
“Hey, guys!” My tone infers get your asses over here now. Phoenix has already turned off the tv and Raven yells from the bedroom, “I am coming!” They snap to it. “The lawn?”
Raven is a brilliant kid; he’s home from Simon’s Rock for the summer. My 16-year-old college freshman 3.6 GPA deserves the break, however, when he speaks for the two of them saying, “We mowed the lawn.” I think he’s had an adequate break and now it’s time to earn his stay.
“Follow me, guys.” I pull the lawnmower out of the barn and check the levels, oil is good but needs some gas. When the mower is ready, I yank the cord, and it starts and then I press the kill switch. I look at both of them before I speak. “Because Phoenix didn’t say something silly, mows. Raven, you will pick up every branch and after that grab the rake and finish raking up the remainder of the leaves.” Both of these guys do well in school, and both of them are well adjusted that is why minor infractions remain slight irritations.
Raven was warming the couch on another day when my wife and I arrived home to a messy kitchen having given explicit instruction to straighten it up before our return. That evening he did the meal clean-up and for a week after that.
While driving through NH this spring I came over a rise and instantly notice that heavy duty black grill with those distinctly blue lights and that unremarkable government plate heading toward me in the oncoming lane, I quickly glanced at my speedometer, but that was far too late. Once nabbed, however, I still had room to maneuver, this cop was going to be a friend of mine and not a dick.
I pulled into the next parking lot and waited for him because it was best he sees me a complaint, rather than a pursuit. With lights flashing he made an entrance. I had already retrieved my license and registration and presented them just outside the window as he approached and felt compelled to ask, “Can I see your license and registration?” I am thinking, yes you can, and “Do you know why I pulled you over?” and I thought, yes I do, but my response called for something a little more dramatic, “When I noticed you, I glanced down at the speedometer, 50!”
Officer Haley’s reply was detailed “You weren’t doing 50 you were doing 52. The speed limit dropped down to 35 at the bottom of the hill. “ It had dropped down from 45, but I didn’t feel a need to say that instead, I wanted to find common ground. “Boy, hasn’t it changed since I lived here.” I conjured the best, we’re brothers look I could, “I grew up in NH.” He seemed to like that. “When did you live here?” I was being spontaneous and not acting like I had done anything wrong but that I had been caught unaware. Shades of gray mojo were strong with me that day.
The officer returned from his SUV with my papers and only a verbal warning and bid me a good day. We continued our family journey, and I limited my speed to 7 mph over posted limits.
The Mojo of gray is vital to discern.
