Looking Back, Looking Forward

Stop the merry-go-round, big one with the horses, and one that hides in your keyboard and forces the daily spin, taking us in – blaring news from plasma on the wall, stop it all. To go forward, just look back. Most learned big things as kids we forget – and yet, if we stop, we remember.

When I was a teen, summers were filled with work – usually physical, less taxing in some ways than school, a kind of relief, even if days started early, ended late, an honest wage to compensate.

In practical terms, being part of the “outdoor crew” at a camp, days were spent with my hands occupied – mowing, clipping, sawing, hammering, scraping, sanding, painting, building, and admiring, then unplugging toilets, snaking showers, under a hood, putting out docks, and watching the clock.

That last bit was something we did, thinking pay was everything, for me 40 dollars a week, plus room and board, evenings for baseball, running, and life with friends. The lesson I thought I was learning was that hard work for dollars was the thing. In a way, it was – but there was more.

What came with my 40-dollar stub was something else, adults vesting responsibility in me, and me wanting their trust, working for it, taking personal responsibility. At the same time, I learned to balance work and play. They fed each other, another lesson; play shed stress, dawn reoriented the playful boy.

Over time, life skills learned during those hard, hot summers got used in other ways. I realized something else again. Pay in dollars – that honest wage to compensate – was just part of it. I now knew stuff.

On top of learning responsibility, trust, and play with work, I knew how to fix a sink trap or broken toilet, use a square, level, and plane, how to dry and wet sand, and polyurethane. I knew how to shingle straight, cut trees and build a cedar fence, knew the difference – between a chain, skill, and band saw.

Moreover, when needed, I could change a tire, oil, and sparkplugs, change blades on a mower, or when someone got stuck or broke down somewhere, I could hook up the chain, downshift, and tow ‘er.  In short, I knew things – never forgot them, never will, real compensation for work and for working still.

In those days too, beyond learning to balance play with work, do things physical and mental, how to keep going, manage heat, cold, wind, rain, not complain, we spent time thinking about who we were and wanted to be, what could make us better. We thought this mattered, because older folks thought so.

For me, that meant Scouts. Even now, the 12 points of the “Scout Law” come as easily as the Lord’s Prayer or Pledge of Allegiance. We tried to learn, make ourselves useful, and keep those ideals before us.

What were they? Well, just be “trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.” Simple right? Not always. We failed the “perfect line,” to borrow a perfect line from Bob Segar, but we knew where we were headed. The Scout Law said it.

Which brings to mind another point, lesson taught: Laws were not different for different people, but equal for all. If we got a ticket, we knew we had earned it. Honor and laws went together, always must.

Perhaps the biggest lesson of youth, beyond work’s value, personal responsibility, learning balance, constructive play, respect for laws, being dogged each day – was about people.

Treated well by elders, I learned respect. In time, their lessons flowed down, sure as water curls predictably over a dam. Their expectations made me who I am. These lessons translated into giving others a chance, expecting of them what I knew they could do, passing forward what was true.

Today, as the world gets squirrelly, remember lessons learned early. They still hold, never grow old. Timeless truths, each one a treasure, they still help us take our measure.

So, now and then, climb off the merry-go-round, stop the spinning. I go fly a kite, take a hike, or get on a bike. I like to think this is smart, or a start – looking back to go forward, like using a chalk line roofing. Einstein probably said it best: “Life is like riding a bicycle – to keep your balance you must keep moving.”

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.