Do the Right Thing

When will I learn to say ‘good enough’ – why do I feel the need to always go one step more- the extra yard-though I must admit that wouldn’t follow me into every arena-such as baking. My colleague Lisa used to say, “you have a certain way of doing things’ which was a polite way of saying that either I’m set in my ways or it’s my way or the highway. Other friends continue to shake their heads with a quiet knowing that there is no way of stopping this creature of habit of the habitual habit of going a bit overboard. Never in a competitive way – just in a ‘there are two ways of doing everything’ kind of way.

It was after my dear, dear Uncle Jim had died and my mom was hard at work creating a dinner to recognize a loss and celebrate a life. She was carefully setting our much-loved China onto the kitchen table-which was extended by a plywood leaf and a card table or two- and with each plate that she placed she decidedly made sure that the faint flowers in the center were all carefully placed with the stems pointed down-they were barely noticeable - but they indeed needed to face in the proper direction. My Aunt, who had just lost her husband, said to my tired overworked mom something on the order of “Nest (short for Nesta) you don’t have to fuss so much. Please don’t worry about it.” And as the often-remembered story goes, my mom responded, “I want my girls to see how it’s done right!”

And perhaps that story, in a nut shell, tells of how our lives went- we were witness to how things were done ‘right’. It never was about cutting corners, or taking the easy road, or slacking-life itself was about ‘doing it right.’ I’ve mentioned her custom of wiping out the sink bowl in public rest rooms with a paper towel after she washed her hands to leave it cleaner for the next in line – and how she would rehang every piece of clothing that had fallen off its hanger in TJ Maxx or wherever, or how she would pick up sticks on walking trails in the woods so folks wouldn’t stumble on the path. She made perfect hospital corners, welcomed every guest with kindness, never uttered an unkind word and taught us endlessly how to care for others-and how to do it ‘right’.

She made the perfect pot roast, fixed grapefruit and fileted fish like a surgeon, and took care of life and everything around her with an undying sense of what some might see as flawlessness.

It was all a lesson that wasn’t taught but always observed and absorbed. It wasn’t a now and then kind of thing-it was an always everywhere everyday type of thing-what she was made of and how she lived. It became not only part of our DNA but also a daily vision of right versus wrong.

She took pleasure from the ordinary things – the birds at her bird feeder, the crocheted toilet paper holder on back of the tank that her friend made for her, the pussy willow bush in spring the roses in summer. She would make note of all of the critters she saw outside her window-and she washed and folded and recycled everything that she could. Long before it seemed popular, she took care of the world around her along with all of us.

And now of course if I don’t pick up that fallen branch or that dangling sweater from a hanger, or if my bed corners are adrift – it is her memory and her life lived prodding me to do the right thing. It wasn’t exactly an overt teaching lesson- it was more of an endless life lesson – a visual that tracked and trained us without words. One that continues to follow us to the end of time-the ‘do it right’ angel on one shoulder and ‘who gives a hoot’ demon on the other.

And sometimes people don’t understand why I can’t let go of it- through decades of trying it still persists. It was never about primping or polishing-or looking good- it was always about caring. I never saw mascara or nail polish until my senior prom- as long as my clothes were clean and we got enough fresh air -all was good. It was more about the inner wiring-the deep sense of caring -the knowing what is right and what is wrong- an undying sense of goodness that I imagine paved her way to heaven. An unspoken language of compassion and trying your best- not just for yourself but for the world around you. A deep, cellular goodness.

I don’t believe I will ever completely live fully into her example but I know it follows me day by day and moment by moment-these teachings-this way of life. My hope is that it brings a quiet understanding to my friends as to who I am and why I do things a certain way- I’m sure we each carry our parents alongside us. I know she’s there with me- shopping, cooking, cleaning, making beds, hiking the trails- watching the sunset- she is and will always be my guide.