Bjcorbin's Blog

As she walked into the student center, Sarah saw Robert sitting by himself at a table in the corner.  The normally crowded room was sparsely populated, as most students had already left campus for spring break.  Though Sarah didn’t really want to deal with Robert’s terminally glum outlook, she also didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  Though they weren’t particularly close friends, Robert had sort of attached himself to the group of classmates she hung out with and so she felt a sense of obligation to sit at his table. 

“So, you must have a Friday class too” she said.

“Nah” he muttered back.

“Then why haven’t you headed out for spring break” she asked.

“Because I don’t plan on going anywhere” he replied.

“You’re kidding, you’re going to stay here the whole time” she said.

“I wasn’t invited to go anywhere else” he said flatly.

Sarah had to fight off her urge to make a comment about the perils of self-pity and she was already regretting the decision to sit with him.  Though Robert was somewhat grateful for her company, he generally found Sarah’s relentlessly upbeat manner kind of annoying.

“Almost everyone was headed to the beach; you know you could have gone along with them” she continued.

“I guess, but beer bongs and beach volleyball are not exactly my thing” he replied.

While Sarah could easily relate to Robert’s perspective on that, she found herself wondering exactly what his “thing” was.

“So why not just head home” she asked.

“Because there is no ‘home’ anymore” he replied.

“What?” Sarah exclaimed.

“My parents split up when I left for college and they sold the house I grew up in.  My Dad’s already remarried to some woman who has little kids; and my Mom has decided that she’s a lesbian.  She lives with her girlfriend in a little apartment in Greenwich Village.  I guess I could go baby sit for my dad or hang out in the gay bars with my mom, but somehow staying here seems like more of a vacation” he said bitterly.

Though Sarah genuinely empathized with Robert’s family situation, she hated his attitude and really just wanted to walk away.  Despite that, she forced herself to push on.

“I’m really sorry to hear that Robert” she said weakly.

“It’s no big deal” he replied.  “So are you heading home?” he added.

‘Not exactly, I’m going to visit my grandparents in Georgia” she said.

“Really, that doesn’t sound too exciting” he said.

“Their place is great, they’ve got orchards of pecan and peach trees, I love it there” she said defensively.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that as some kind of slam.  I’ve never been to Georgia and I certainly don’t know anything about peaches or pecans.  I’m sure it’s all very nice” he said in a slightly patronizing voice.

“It is nice” she said.  “You ought to come and see for yourself, before you pass judgment.”

Sarah was shocked at the recognition of the words that had just escaped her mouth.  The way she’d said them almost sounded like an invitation and that certainly wasn’t her intent.  She tried to console herself with the idea that he probably wouldn’t be interested, but that illusion was quickly dispelled when Robert said, “Really, so you don’t think your grandparents would mind?” 

“No, I’m sure they won’t care” Sarah replied blankly.

“Cool, so when do we leave?” he asked

Sarah just about choked at Robert’s reference to them as “we” and shuddered at the idea of them traveling together alone.  It occurred to her that she’d never seen him this enthusiastic about anything before, which somehow made her feel even more uneasy.  Thankfully the drive from North Carolina to Georgia wasn’t a very long one and wouldn’t require many stops.  She told him to meet her in the parking lot at 12:30 pm and she kicked herself all the way to class for letting this happen.  She then spent the duration of the class imagining ways to back out of it.  She called her grandparents after class to explain the situation, hoping that maybe they’d give her the excuse she needed; instead her grandmother suggested that maybe this was something God had orchestrated.  As much as Sarah knew that was a possibility, she struggled to accept that this was anything more than some misspoken words on her part.  As she came down the stairs from her dorm room, she prayed that Robert wouldn’t be out in the parking lot.  She figured that if he was late, she could take off and chalk it up to a miscommunication; but when she came through the door, he was sitting on the hood of her car. 

She sighed heavily and as she got close to the car said, “Hey do you mind, you’re going to scratch the paint!”

Robert rolled his eyes as he slide off the car, saying “We could take my car if you want”.

Sarah glared at him saying, “Is there a problem with my car?”

“No” Robert replied.  Adding, “I just don’t want you to worry about it getting scratched or anything.”

Sarah was ready to fire back at him, when she remembered her grandmother’s words about the possibility that God was somehow setting all this up.  Though she still wasn’t convinced of that, she decided to stand on her tongue anyway.  As they got in the car, she could see Robert looking at the small wooden cross hanging from her rearview mirror and she could tell it bothered him.  Though many of her college friends weren’t Christian, it didn’t seem to be an issue for them that she was; but Robert was different.  He seemed to have an axe to grind with religion or maybe it was with God Himself.  Sarah consciously avoided the subject when he was around and she had no intention of getting into it on this road trip.  As she started the car, her Steven Curtis Chapman CD began to play and they didn’t even get out of the parking lot before Robert had something to say about it.

“We’re not going to listen to this kind of thing all the way to Georgia, are we?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with it?” she replied.

“It’s just not my thing” he said caustically.

“So what is your thing; rap, rock, classical?” she asked.

“I like talk-radio” he replied.

“Let me guess, you’re an NPR (i.e. National Public Radio) guy?” she said sarcastically.

“Well I certainly prefer it over FOX News, if that’s what you mean” he replied defensively.

Sarah rolled her eyes and said, “Of course you do”.  She searched through several channels before finally finding an NPR station with a good signal and for a long time after that she and Robert didn’t speak.  Though Sarah wasn’t a big fan of the reporting on NPR, she did enjoy a special they aired on the life of “Billie Holliday”.  As the program ended, Robert began to talk about growing up listening to a lot of old jazz music and for the first time, they began to relate to each other like friends.  As Robert filled in bits and pieces about his home life, it became clearer to Sarah how he’d become the person he was.  She discovered that he was the only child of two highly intelligent, somewhat eccentric parents and that most of his childhood was spent bouncing between Boston and New York City.  For next few hours, they came dangerously close to enjoying each others company.  After stopping for food and gas, they once again grew quiet; as both became lost in their own thoughts. 

As they neared Sarah’s grandparents, she asked him “What do you think of the orchards?”

“What orchards?” he replied.

“All along the road for the last hour, there have been rows of either peach or pecan trees” she said in amazement.

Robert shrugged and said, “They look like every other tree I’ve ever seen”.

“No way, look at all those peach blossoms.  You don’t see that kind of thing in New York or Boston” she retorted.

“Sorry Sarah, it’s just not that amazing to me” he said regretfully.

Instead of the usual annoyance she felt when dealing with Robert, Sarah actually found herself feeling a little sorry for him.  But as she began to recognize the landmarks that told her she was close to her grandparents, those feelings gave way to her growing excitement.  She smiled broadly as they pulled off the main road and through the large gates to the plantation.  As they drove down the tree-lined lane that leads to the main house, Robert didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was impressed.

“Wow, this place looks like something out of ‘Gone With the Wind’.  I was picturing some little farm, not Tara” he said.

His words pleased Sarah, who beamed as she shared, “Yeah, this place has been in our family for generations.  A lot of the pecan trees are over a hundred years old.”

As Sarah eased to a stop in the large circular drive, her grandparents emerged from the front door to greet them.  After she excitedly embraced them, she introduced Robert, who was polite, though somewhat wooden in demeanor.  As they entered the house, Grandma Doris gave a quick tour, showing them where their bedrooms were and then leading them to a large dining room, which was already set up for dinner.  Sarah followed her grandmother into the kitchen, as Grandpa Henry gestured for Robert to sit down with him at the table.  After the ladies had carried in the food, grandpa gave the blessing and they began to eat.  The ladies dominated the conversation during the meal, though they tried several times to get Henry and Robert to join in.  Robert gave very short and factual answers to Doris’ inquiries about his family; and though Henry was much warmer in his responses, he didn’t seem particularly chatty either.

Though Robert enjoyed the food and felt genuinely welcomed by Sarah’s grandparents, he also found himself feeling a little out of place.  After all, he was an urban progressive, who felt barely connected to his own family; and here he was doing family hour in the Deep South, with what he assumed to be a bunch of Bible thumping Christian folk.  Though he did find some of the conversation mildly interesting, he viewed most of it as idle chatter and he admired what he viewed as grandpa’s unwillingness to simply talk for the sake of hearing his own voice.  Sarah, on the other hand, was really starting to wear on his nerves with her endless gushing on every conceivable topic.  The minute she’d seem to be slowing down on one thing, Grandma Doris would get her going about something else.  Though he stuck it out through dessert, he decided to head to his room early, claiming fatigue from the trip.  Though he wasn’t really tired, he thought he could catch up on some reading; after all, he’d always been more comfortable with books than people.

The next morning Robert awoke to the smell of bacon and as he made his way downstairs, he found that Sarah’s grandmother was making a big breakfast.  He sat in the kitchen listening to her chat about an endless array of subjects, as he drank coffee.  While he wanted to dismiss her as a silly old church lady, he had to admit that her warmth and sincerity were compelling to him.  He was surprised that Grandpa Henry wasn’t around; after all, weren’t farmers supposed to be early risers.  But as Doris slide a freshly made muffin in front of him, she excused herself for a moment as she carried another muffin and some coffee from the room.  When she returned, she explained that Henry liked to work in his study until breakfast was ready.  Robert was glad that he hadn’t said anything about Henry sleeping in and he spent the next half hour being interrogated by Grandma Doris about his background.  He helped her get the food on the table and she went to get Henry and Sarah.  Sarah still looked half asleep as she came down the stairs and plopped heavily into the chair.  Henry came from another part of the house and was already showered, shaved and dressed for the day.  It didn’t take Sarah long to resume her gushing over grandmas cooking, which immediately irritated Robert, despite the fact he agreed with what she’d said.  He easily ate twice as much food as he normally would have for breakfast and was kind of amazed to see how much Sarah ate too.  He was surprised that a skinny girl like her could get away with that.  Grandpa told them that he’d give them the grand tour whenever they could get ready and Sarah excitedly headed back to her room.  Robert took his time getting showered and dressed, assuming that Sarah would be primping for awhile; but as he came down the stairs, he found her impatiently waiting for him. 

“Lord, do you always take that long to get ready?” she said.

“No” he said indignantly.  “I just figured it would take you longer; I didn’t realize you were going to go au natural today.”

Sarah self-consciously touched her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail and said, “It’s not a beauty contest, it’s my grandparent’s house.”

After exchanging dirty looks, Sarah led the way to what grandpa later explained was an old carriage house.  There they found Henry talking with a couple of men, who he introduced as the foremen over the fruit operation.  After those men left, Henry began to explain how the fruit business worked and to show them around the plantation.  It was an interesting mix of history and modern economics; as old slave quarters (now used to house seasonal fruit pickers) were intermingled with the latest farm technology.  Robert found himself being impressed with Henry, despite the fact that he’d already dubbed him “The Peanut Farmer” in his mind.  The plantation was even bigger than Robert had imagined and the tour lasted until lunchtime.  As they came back into the main house, grandma once again had a table full of food for them and even though he wasn’t really hungry, Robert caught himself trying a little bit of everything.  After lunch, Doris and Henry took them on a tour of the local area, which was rich in civil war history; and after attending to some business in town, they ate dinner at a beautiful old plantation house that had been converted into a hotel and restaurant.  That night, as Robert lay in his room, he had to admit to himself that he’d really enjoyed the day, even though these weren’t his kind of people and this wasn’t his kind of place. 

The following morning, after breakfast, both Sarah and Robert were hanging out in the large parlor area near the front of the house.  Robert was sitting in a large over-stuffed chair, playing a network game on his laptop, while Sarah sprawled across a small loveseat, chatting on Facebook.  They barely noticed each other until Sarah finally broke the silence.

“So, you have to admit that this place is a lot nicer than you thought it would be” she said.

“I guess” Robert replied reluctantly.

‘You guess?” Sarah shot back incredulously.

“OK, yes, it is very nice” he said.  “Are you happy now”.

“I just don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say something nice” she replied, before adding, “My grandparents are awesome!”

Without looking up from his computer, Robert said, “They’re very nice”.

“There, you did it again” Sarah said sharply as she sat up.

Robert rolled his eyes in frustration and said, “Did what?”

“I described my grandparents as ‘awesome’ and you reduced it to ‘very nice’.  It’s like you have to throw a wet blanket on every positive thing that anyone says.  My grandparents have been ‘awesome’ to you, why can’t you say that” Sarah hissed.

“For God’s sake Sarah, what do want from me?  OK, so your grandparents are great.  Good for you and good for them.  This is the grandest peanut farm I’ve ever seen and you’re just the best friend for bringing me here!  Is that positive enough for you?” he hissed back

“It’s not a ‘peanut farm’ and I doubt that you meant a word of that” she said in a much calmer voice.

“What is the big deal?  This is a nice place; I do appreciate you letting me come with you; your grandfather seems like a pretty good guy” he stammered.

“My grandfather is a great man” she interrupted.

Robert was getting tired of Sarah jumping on his every word and he could feel the anger rising up inside of him.  “You know Sarah, just like you say I downgrade every positive thing that’s said, you’ve got to out-do and hype everything to the rafters.  It’s not good enough to say that your grandfather is a ‘good guy’; it’s got to be ‘he’s a great man’.  You do this all the time.  Every thing is ‘awesome’ and ‘incredible’ and on and on and on.  Well I’ve got news for you, things aren’t really all that awesome most of the time; and though I know you love your grandfather, he’s just an old peanut farmer.  It’s not like he built this place with his own hands, he just inherited it from his family.  Even I could do well if someone wanted to give me a mansion and a profitable business.  Get a grip!”

Sarah’s mind raced with things she wanted to say to him, but her anger and frustration pushed her way beyond the place she could speak coherently.  Tears streamed down her face and she really wanted to throw something at him.  She grabbed her laptop and began to stomp out of the room, stopping long enough to say, “You’re a pompous jerk and you don’t know the first thing about me or my grandfather.  You think that you can just walk into any situation and figure everything out with nothing more than your powers of observation, but you’re wrong.  The most important things in life can’t be seen with the naked eye and you can’t know people by sharing a couple of meals with them.  You are truly one of the most miserable individuals I’ve ever met and as long as this is how you’re going to be, you can count on staying that way!”

As Sarah left the room, Robert thought about going after her to give his rebuttal to her commentary; but he found himself strangely unsure of exactly what he’d say.  Though her manner was offensive and he didn’t like the idea that she had judged him, he wasn’t sure that what she’d said was actually wrong.  He tried to blow the whole thing off and go back to his computer game, but he couldn’t quit replaying Sarah’s words in his mind.  After a couple of minutes he decided to log off and take a walk instead.  He hadn’t gotten very far down the driveway when he ran into Henry coming back toward the house.  He really didn’t feel like talking, but really had no way to avoid Henry, who was the first to speak.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m OK” Robert replied.

“Are you sure?” Henry probed knowingly.

“Well, Sarah and I had some words, but it’s no big deal” he admitted.

“She can be pretty head strong” Henry said.

“And we don’t exactly see the world through the same eyes” Robert added.

Henry smiled and said, “We all have that problem don’t we?”

“I guess” Robert replied sheepishly.

Henry put his hand on Robert’s shoulder and said, “I tell you what, I’m headed to my office and I think that there’s something you might find interesting there”.

With that, both men headed back to the main house.  Once inside, Henry led Robert to a wing of the house he hadn’t seen yet.  At the end of the hall they passed through a set of beautiful wooden doors and into Henry’s massive study.  Inside the room, there was no ceiling between the ground and second floors and a spiral staircase allowed access to the upper level, which was completely walled with shelves full of books.  The lower level was large enough to have what appeared to be a meeting area (with a conference table & chairs), a sitting area (with antique winged back chairs & end tables) and an office area (with a massive wooden desk and a state of the art computer system).  Everything in the room seemed to be antique and perfectly matched in dark wood and rich deep colors.  The walls of the lower level were covered in pictures, plaques, paintings and other keepsakes; and the room had a warm and inviting feel to it.  Robert couldn’t help but be impressed.

As Henry moved to his desk, he said “I thought you might be interested in the Library and wanted you to know that it was here and that you’re welcome to use it.  Obviously, it’s not like going to the university library, but I’m sure you can find some interesting things up there.”

“Thank you very much sir, it looks pretty amazing from here” he replied.

“Of course many of the volumes are very old, but both my wife and I love to read, so there are several current volumes as well” Henry added.

“Again, I thank you sir, but I should probably let you do your work now” Robert said as he stepped back toward the door.

“I can promise you that your presence won’t bother me.  I’m just going to do a little bit of computer work before lunch” Henry said.  “Please, feel free to look around if you’d like”.

Robert nodded in acknowledgement, but instead of immediately heading for the books, he found himself drawn to the pictures & memorabilia on the lower level walls.  He was careful not to make a sound, as he moved from frame to frame, studying their contents.  He was fascinated by the photos and the various documents, some of which dated back to the civil war era.  After several minutes of moving along the walls, he came upon what looked to be a college diploma and as his face moved closer to the frame, he was shocked to see that not only did the diploma belong to Henry, but that it was a Bachelor’s degree from Cornell University.  As he turned his head to sneak a look at Henry, he saw that there was another diploma on the wall and as he moved towards it, he could see that it also belonged to Henry.  It was a Master’s degree from New York University (NYU).  An audible gasp escaped Robert’s mouth as he realized that the man he’d dubbed the “Peanut Farmer” had an Ivy League education and a graduate degree from yet another prestigious university.

Henry sensed his reaction and asked, “Find something interesting?”

Robert hesitantly replied, “It’s your college diploma’s sir.  I guess I’m a little surprised that someone from the Deep South would pick a couple of New York schools.”

Henry smiled and said, “At that time in my life I was looking to do the opposite of whatever someone from the Deep South might do.”

Robert’s expression twisted in confusion as he said, “I guess I don’t follow you sir.”

“I suppose it would be right to say that I was in rebellion to my southern roots” he replied; before adding, “Truth be told, I was pretty much in rebellion to just about everything I’d grown up with.”

“Really, even this plantation?” Robert queried

“Especially this plantation” Henry replied.  “My father wanted me to go to a Georgia school or, like you and Sarah, to go to Duke; which is of course why I picked the ‘Big Red’ in New York.  I promised myself that I would get away from this place and never come back.”

“Wow” Robert exclaimed.  “That’s pretty intense”.

“Well, I was a pretty intense fellow back then” Henry said with a smile.

“So what was your major?” Robert asked.

“Would you believe it was Philosophy” Henry replied.

“You’re kidding” Robert said, “That’s my major!”

Again Henry smiled and said, “I probably could have guessed that from our conversations.  I’m betting that you’re a fan of Nietzsche; that you feel as though he really nailed it with his thesis on ‘will to power’ and that though you’d never classify yourself as a Nihilist, you have more than a passing respect for the ideas behind Nihilism.”

Robert was stunned.  Here he thought he had grandpa all figured out, only to discover that he was totally off base; and now, apparently without any real effort, Henry had pegged his personal philosophy to a tee.  “How did you know that?” he muttered

“Well, you remind me of what I was like in college and that was what I believed back then” Henry replied.  “If we go by that, you probably find Kierkegaard somewhat delusional, Heidegger’s interpretation of Nietzsche to be invaluable and desperately wish that Kafka had written more novels.”

Again, Robert was amazed.  He couldn’t decide which blew him away more, that Henry could see all of this in him or that Henry had ever believed it himself.  His mind reeled with questions, but he couldn’t seem to articulate them; and before he could regain himself, Sarah poked her head in the door and said, “Grandma says lunch is ready”

Henry could see that Robert still wanted to talk and patted him on the shoulder saying, “We can pick this conversation back up after lunch”.

Robert reluctantly followed him to the dining room, where Doris had once again prepared way more food than the four of them could possibly eat.  As Henry gave the blessing, Robert wondered how someone could possibly transition from being a “fan of Nietzsche” to being a fan of Jesus Christ.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sarah glaring at him and he momentarily remembered their exchange in the parlor.  Though he still had the urge to vent on her, his preoccupation with Henry’s background was much stronger; and as he thought about it, he realized that Sarah had been right about one thing, he really didn’t know Henry.

Lunch passed quietly, as both Sarah and Robert seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.  As usual, Doris was extremely chatty, but little of what she said seemed to require a response, so for the most part they just had to politely nod in the right spots.  Robert finished his food first and let Henry know that he was heading back to library, as he excused himself from the table.  After he left the room, Sarah asked her grandfather about their conversation, but Henry simply said, “We’re just talking philosophy”.  Though that answer didn’t particularly satisfy Sarah’s curiosity, she could tell that was all she was going to get from him.  As Henry walked back into his office, he found Robert once again studying his diplomas.

“I don’t remember them being that interesting” Henry said.

Robert spun around, looking somewhat embarrassed and replied, “So you lived in Greenwich Village in the middle of the 1960’s?”

“Yup, I graduated from Cornell in 1962 and from NYU in 1965.  I hung around for another few years after that, until I eventually came back here” he said.

“That had to be a pretty wild time to be there” Robert added.

“As I remember, it was a pretty wild time to be anywhere” Henry said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but I mean you were right in the middle of the peace movement and Andy Warhol and the whole counter culture thing.  It must have been awesome” Robert exclaimd.

“I guess it all boils down to how you define awesome” Henry replied.  “We certainly broke our share of social taboos and shook up the status quo.”

“You did more than that; your generation changed the world!” Robert gushed

“That’s probably truer than I’d like to admit” Henry replied.

Robert seemed confused as he said, “You make it sound as though that was a bad thing.”

“Well, let’s just say that I’m not convinced it was a good thing” Henry replied.

Robert’s expression conveyed his astonishment, as he said “I can’t imagine doubting that.  I consider the 1960’s one of the pinnacles in American history.  I would have loved to have lived in that era.  I guess it’s really hard for me to understand how you could come to look back on it with regret.”

“I guess it has a lot to do with the lens through which you view the world.  For me that has changed drastically over the years.  My parents had lived through the Great Depression and a couple of world wars, so they viewed the staid quality of plantation life as a great blessing.  For me, who was too young to remember the war, life on the plantation felt monotonous and even oppressive.  Though I loved and respected my parents, I found myself pushing back against the life they’d built here.  At first, it was simply about not wanting to be forced into the family business, but soon I started pushing against the ideas and ideals that had built this place and eventually I found myself pushing against them too.  That was never my conscious intent, but that’s where I got to.  They were hurt and confused by that and I didn’t really understand it myself; but with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that it made me the perfect recruit for the counter-culture movement.  Within a couple of short years of leaving home, my view of life had done a complete 180 and in many ways alienated me from my family.  By the time I got to Grad school in the city, I was completely immersed in the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll of the day” Henry explained.

“I understand that sort of thing was going on, but the counter culture was about so much more than that.  It was about challenging the authoritarian structures that had for so long oppressed the people.  It was about civil rights and personal freedom and world peace” Robert proclaimed exuberantly.

Henry smiled and said, “I realize that is what we claimed it was about and I know that’s what’s been written into history books by people of my generation, but the truth is that it was really pretty much about sex, drugs and rock-n-roll.  ‘Make love, not war’ was a great motto to justify dodging the draft and having sex in the park; it had little to do with hating war or loving our fellow man.  Like most philosophies, the movement was really fueled by how we were feeling at the time; the ideas that justified those feelings came later.  We were just like the twenty year olds of today; we didn’t feel like growing up, getting jobs and becoming like our parents.  Truthfully, there weren’t many of us who were losing sleep over the condition of the world and that’s what made it so easy to embrace the teachings of someone like Nietzsche.  I didn’t want to feel the sense of guilt and obligation that accompanied my Judeo-Christian upbringing, so “God is dead’ was just what I wanted to hear.  The war wasn’t convenient or attractive, so it was easy to be anti-war.  We wanted to cast off all restraint sexually, so we dubbed it ‘The Summer of Love’, but love had nothing to do with it.  We could all tell you what we were against, but very few of us knew what we were for.  If we were really what we claimed to be, then there ought to have been a whole generation of philanthropists, who dedicated their resources to the betterment of mankind; but instead our generation has gone on to become infamous for its shallow self-centeredness.  I would submit that what we witnessed in the 1970’s was the fruit of the seeds we planted in the 1960’s; and the 70’s was a decade of unprecedented corruption and cultural degradation.  I’m sure that’s not what you’ve read about it, but as an eye-witness, I can tell you that’s how it was.”

Robert was visibly disturbed by Henry’s assessment, but seemed at a loss as to how he might challenge the validity of it.  In an uncharacteristically meek voice he asked, “So you don’t think anything good came out of the Cultural Revolution?”

“I can’t say that.  The Civil Rights movement had some wonderful breakthroughs in that time and undoubtedly the political unrest of that era helped to some degree; but you must understand that the civil rights movement existed long before the Cultural Revolution started and it wasn’t hippies in the park who facilitated any of the real changes that took place.  I suppose that there was also a certain amount of pretense within our society that probably needed to be shed, but unfortunately the movement went well beyond that point, eventually coming to a place we are now, where nothing is sacred” Henry replied.

Robert hated the thought that what Henry was saying might be true.  He loved everything he’d read and heard about the 1960’s and it depressed him to think that it was nothing more than mythology.  On a more personal level, he still wasn’t clear on how Henry had transitioned from Greenwich Village back to Georgia, so he asked, “So what changed it for you?”

Henry’s countenance changed as he replied, “My mother died unexpectedly.  At that point I hadn’t been back for a couple of years and I hadn’t even known she was sick.  As I stood next to her lifeless body, my whole philosophical façade came unraveled.  I could suddenly see that all of those high sounding ideas were just my way of rationalizing my behavior.  In that moment, I felt like a little boy who couldn’t find his mother in the grocery store and for the first time in years, I found myself praying to a God that I wasn’t even sure I believed in.  I went completely numb after we buried her.  I couldn’t shake the sense that my life in New York had been a sham, but I didn’t want to admit to myself that I had wasted the last precious years of my mother’s life.  After all those years of pushing against their beliefs, I was confronted by the revelation that I loved my parents deeply and didn’t want to go on without them.  With my mother gone, the question was whether I’d make the same mistake with my father.  I felt lost and unsure of what to believe and eventually I opened up to my father about it.  He was an incredibly patient man and he didn’t seem to be upset with me for openly challenging the things he held as truth.  He took me out to the orchard and grabbed a couple of peaches off a tree and we each had one.  When we were done, he had me show him the pit and when I did, he held out his pit too; then he asked, ‘Which one of these is the good seed?’  Of course, I had no idea and I told him so.  He smiled at me and said, ‘I’ve been raising peaches my whole life and I’ve seen thousands of seeds, but I’ve yet to figure out which are the good ones just by looking at them; it’s only after you plant them that you can tell.’  At that point I still wasn’t getting it, but he went to explain that philosophies are like seeds, they can all sound valid when you talk about them in the abstract, but it’s not until you try to live by them that you find out whether they’re good seeds or bad ones.  He assured me that he’d love me no matter how I decided to live, but he encouraged me to judge the philosophy that I chose by the fruit it would bear in my life.  At the time I thought it was a bit of an oversimplification, but as I thought about it, his lesson seemed more and more profound.  Instead of studying Nietzsche’s ideas, I started looking at the fruit of those ideas in his life and in the lives of those who admired him; and I discovered that their lives were a litany of depression, depravity and dysfunctional relationships.  As I looked at some of my other heroes, I discovered much the same thing; and when I thought about the people I hung out with in New York, I realized it was the same for us as well.  If we were really onto some kind of transcendent truth, then why wasn’t it translating into something positive in our daily existence?  After years of scoffing at my parents beliefs, I had to admit that I admired my father’s integrity and my mother’s grace; I wanted to have a marriage like they did and to love my kids the way they had.  And now that my mother was gone, I wanted a hope for something beyond this life.  Those realizations didn’t change everything on a dime, but that conversation with my dad proved to be a turning point for me and I never did make it back to New York”

Robert furrowed his brow and said, “I guess I can follow the whole philosophy/fruit metaphor, but using that measure, how does Christianity seem any better than Existentialism.  With all of the atrocities committed throughout history in the name of God, how does that constitute good fruit?  It seems to me that religion poisons everything!”

Henry smiled knowingly and replied, “I see that you’ve read Mr. Hitchens book too.  I would suggest that the title of his manifesto is telling, as it claims ‘God is Not Great – How Religion Poisons Everything’.  From my perspective, God’s divine character and the human practice of religion are two very different things.  Leo Tolstoy said, ‘Don’t judge God’s holy ideals by my inability to meet them.  Don’t judge Christ by those of us who imperfectly bear His name’ and I would whole-heartedly agree.  I would not endeavor to defend all that’s been done in the name of Jesus Christ, but I would challenge you to find a single atrocity that wasn’t a violation of the principles He taught.  Ultimately, to judge the principles of true Christianity, you have to look at the life of Jesus Himself, because He is the only one who’s perfectly executed those principles.  But even at that, selectively picking out the evil that has been perpetrated beneath the veil of religion ignores the significant good that has also been accomplished in places where genuine religion has been practiced.  A fair and honest study of history bears out that in places where Judeo-Christian values have taken root, the education, welfare and basic civil rights of the people have prospered.  I would never presume to speak for someone else, but for me, these others philosophies were really just my attempt to rationalize the pursuit of my own agenda, while Christianity has been about my acknowledgment that life is about something bigger than me and what I think.  Despite my poor execution of its principles, it has still bore much good fruit and though my life is far from perfect, it has allowed me to come to peace with the past, given a sense of purpose for today and has provided me with hope for the future.” 

Robert’s mind raced through the arguments he’d heard against Christianity, looking for something to contradict what Henry had just said, but he couldn’t seem to find the silver bullet he so desperately wanted to fire back.  Knowing that Henry read books by people like Christopher Hitchens gave him the sense that even if he could think of something, Henry would probably have an answer for it.  Despite the fact that he vehemently disagreed with the philosophical stance Henry had taken, he couldn’t deny his admiration for the person he’d become.  Instead of trying to come up with a counter argument, he decided to get more of Henry’s story; saying “So how did Doris fit into all of this?”

Henry smiled, saying “She’d been my high school sweetheart, but I’d broken up with her when I went to college.  Though she’d come close a few times, she’d never married and after I moved back, we started dating again.  We were married a year later and just a few weeks from now we’ll celebrate our forty-second wedding anniversary.  She’s been a wonderful friend and partner; I’ve been blessed to share my life with her.”

Robert once again found himself with nothing to say and unable to shake his uneasiness at some of the things Henry had spoken out; so he said, “Well, I’ve taken up plenty of your time sir, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do.”  As Robert moved to the door, Henry said, “It was good talking with you; please remember that the library is here if you want to use it.”

A strange sense of relief swept over Robert as he made his way down the hall.  He somehow felt like a child who had just escaped from the Principal’s office, though he couldn’t really understand why he should feel that way.  After all, he didn’t have to defend his beliefs to Henry or to anyone else for that matter.  Everyone was entitled to their opinion and what difference did it make if Henry had drawn different conclusions then he had.  But in the back of his mind there was now a question mark; what if his philosophy was nothing more than a rationalization and what kind of fruit did he have to show for it.  He tried to push these questions out of his mind, but within a few moments they’d inevitably leak back in.  He made his way to his room and feeling suddenly exhausted, he lay on the bed.  After several minutes of wrestling with his thoughts, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

A few hours later, when Sarah came to get him for dinner, he told her he wasn’t feeling well and that he wouldn’t be down.  He tried to go back to sleep after that, but he couldn’t seem to quiet his mind and so he laid there, stewing in his own juices.  His mind searched for an example of someone or something that would validate his worldview or at least refute Henry’s.  Eventually, he pulled out his laptop and began searching the internet for more information.  He looked up people like Abbie Hoffman, who would have been contemporaries to Henry, but sure enough their stories were filled with relational dysfunction (e.g. infidelity, divorce, estrangement from kids…), drug and alcohol addiction, depression and even suicide.  After a half dozen examples, he began looking back through history, at the personal lives of the great philosophers and authors he admired; and once again it was just as Henry said.  Even though Robert still wanted to argue the validity of some of their ideas, he had to admit that their lives often seemed to be a torment.  He tried to dismiss that fact as meaningless, but the amazing consistency of the pattern was disturbing to him.  After turning off the computer, he began thinking of his own life and though it lacked any of the dramatic elements he’d read about, he had to admit that there was no place and no one he felt particularly connected to.  It also occurred to him that like Henry had said, he had a very firm grasp of what he was against, but little idea about what he might be for.  He decided to try distracting himself by reading a book, but was having little success with it, when he heard a knock on his door.  Upon opening it, he found Doris standing with a tray full of food and a concerned look on her face.  Though Robert generally found her to be slightly annoying, he was touched by her genuine concern, which seemed to go far deeper than his own mothers ever had.  He gratefully accepted the food and assured Doris that he’d be fine.  After eating, he decided to re-engage with his internet gaming, which kept him going well into the night.

For the next few days, Robert said very little.  He spent a lot of time going through the library and when Henry wasn’t in the office, he’d often sneak another peak at the frames that lined the lower level.  When Henry was around, Robert seemed to almost be studying him, listening intently to his every word.  Sarah also noticed that Robert didn’t seem nearly as cynical and rude as he normally was, and she wondered what might be going on inside of him.  As they said their goodbyes, Sarah thought she saw tears building in Robert’s eyes as her grandparents hugged him warmly and invited him to return whenever he wanted to.  As they pulled away, she noticed him looking back at the plantation wistfully and for the next hour he sat in utter silence, staring out the window.  Finally, her curiosity got the best of her and she asked him what he was looking at, to which he replied, “The trees”. 

“What about the trees?” she prodded

“They’re pretty amazing” he answered, with his gaze still fixed on the orchards.

Suddenly he turned to her and with his face full of boyish sincerity, said “Thanks for bringing me here.  I really enjoyed it.  I think your grandparents are awesome.”

“Sure” Sarah stammered in amazement.  As Robert’s attention returned to the orchards, Doris’ words came back to Sarah and she smiled.  Indeed, Grandma had been right; God’s hand had been on this trip from the start.