July 24, 2023
Greetings from the change,
Kevin was an enigma to me, at first. I saw him walking around our East Village neighborhood, talking to the neighbors, and sometimes sitting on his porch reading. He had an open face, under a bushy beard, with an easy smile and curious eyes. When I finally met him, I was struck by the gentle way he spoke, and the lightness in him.
He was a capable landlord. He owned a few houses in the neighborhood and spent a good amount of time each week tending to the needs of the tenants. Fixing leaking things, squeaking things, broken things. When he wasn’t mowing something or on a roof, he might be sitting on the porch talking with one of the people who rented from him.
He went to college and took classes, not for credit or to earn a degree, but to learn things. He listened to a variety of music, not much of what was on the radio in 1980. When he invited me to his home, I was impressed with the order, and how it seemed to be a reflection of him. Quiet, simple, bits of beauty placed where he could enjoy them.
I admired him for reasons that took me a long time to understand, years after I last saw him, in fact. Among all of this, there was a lesson. Like many good lessons, it would be easy to forget, but thankfully, easy to remember again.
I was a novice property owner, with only a few tenants in my experience. I had run into a conflict, and I was positive I was in the right, technically and legally. The tenant didn’t agree and I was digging in my heels. Even in my self-righteousness, I felt this tug of doubt, and I wondered why. I sought out Kevin’s company and we sat in the grass and talked about it.
Kevin said: “What is the fair thing to do?”
“Keep the money,” I said, emphatically.
“That might be the correct thing to do. What is the fair thing?”
I couldn’t shake my first answer.
“Do what is fair,” he said.
In the end, I followed his advice. It required some compromise, it called for me to let someone think they won, which meant calling on humility, not my strength. It also cost money, which at the time was a rare commodity.
When Kevin gave me this advice, he already had an understanding of what was right, what was just, and what was fair. He was a philosopher, a thoughtful person, and he had experience dealing with people. He also knew what made him happy. I think he looked at my little conundrum and imagined himself deciding the fair thing, and afterwards being at peace.
Some time ago someone asked me if I could name the values I lived by. It is a little too ambitious of a question for my IQ. I have pushed around the answer a little, and perhaps uncovered some possibilities. But that led me to the lesson Kevin taught me.
Do what is fair. It’s a little simplistic, perhaps, and maybe a little naïve. But it’s a good place to start. I tried to define it, without looking at the dictionary.
Being open to others’ ideas and opinions. Being considerate. Sharing what you have. Being willing to admit when you are wrong. Willing to compromise, to negotiate difficult situations while being considerate of the other people involved. Being kind.
I have struggled with being fair when I feel the need to balance the scales from how the world has treated me, or when someone else took advantage of me, for example. I have justified my own unfair behavior as a sort of revenge on people who are no longer present. This is a bad spiral. It is unfair to all future versions of us and the people we meet.
What defines ‘fair’ is slippery, depending on who is asking the question. But it’s the asking that is the catalyst for possibility. We ask ourselves, and others, to at least consider the idea, and maybe that moves the needle.
Life is not fair. That has been said too often by people justifying all manner of injustice, but it’s still true. Life isn’t fair, but we can be. The value doesn’t change the world, it changes us. It changes us.
Hope this finds you asking,
David
Copyright © 2023 David Smith
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