JIM HENDRICKS: Not believing lard’s greasy

Years ago, I mentioned in a newspaper column that I was politically agnostic, which I thought at the time was a clever way of saying that if there is a perfect political party out there that can guide us to good government, we apparently can’t figure out what it is.

Then, I was on a radio call-in show early one morning and a woman called up and lit into me about why I don’t love Jesus.

As hard as I tried to make her understand that I was writing about political matters and not spiritual ones, that I was — and still am, just to be clear — a Christian and that I was, in fact, only trying to inject a bit of humor — albeit unsuccessfully — into the conversation that we all have about what’s wrong with government and politics, she, as my Granddaddy used to say, “Wasn’t having none of it.”

She hung up the phone, as best I can tell, convinced I was what she had already decided I was, and the reason for her call wasn’t to ask me about it to clear anything up. Her mind was set, and facts were not going to get in the way.

To quote my Granddaddy one more time, “Some folks just won’t believe lard’s greasy.” I think I might have mentioned that on the radio after the lady hung up. I’m not sure.

One thing I’ve noticed over the past few years is there are more and more folks like that lady.

Maybe I’m remembering things through that wonderful mental filter we humans have that brings fond memories to the forefront and sticks bad ones in a bottom drawer of a cell as far back in the brain as you can shove it, but it seems like that sort of mentality used to be the exception, not the rule.

When did we all turn into a collective bunch of curmudgeons?

It used to be a specialty. Most towns had a guy or a woman who was particularly known for being sullen from daybreak to bedtime, who couldn’t be what passed for happy until every silver lining in sight had one or preferably a large number of dark clouds directly in front of it.

What you did for your own sanity was you tried not to make eye contact on account of, invariably, you’d do it wrong. And if you said hello to him, you never followed it with the Southern greeting of “How’s it going.” Because he was going to tell you. And it wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. And it wasn’t going to be a short one, either.

Today, that seems to have turned into a generality.

Folks these days get up first thing in the morning looking for a fight with “them,” “them” being anyone who doesn’t wholeheartedly agree with their view, which is “what everybody knows is right.”

Trouble is, no one side has all the right answers. It just doesn’t. You can’t get a level view of the road ahead if your head’s leaning too far to the left or right, which isn’t anything my Granddaddy ever said, but I think he would have if he were still around today.

It’s like the time a particularly sullen fellow sporting a black eye walked into Granddaddy’s store to get a Co-Cola. “He wakes up every morning looking for a fight,” Granddaddy said. “Looks like he found him one.”

Maybe we’ll get to the point where we can have reasonable discussions again, but I’m not terribly optimistic. There are folks, on social media especially, who are constantly trolling for something to suitably outrage them, and others, also on social media, who are more than happy to fan the flames. The idea of think before you tweet just won’t catch on, nor will the civility of giving someone the benefit of a doubt. Even if you’re for an acceptable cause, you also must address it in an exactly acceptable way, lest you become a social (media) pariah.

Frankly, I’d have a hard time getting up in the morning if all I had to look forward to was being mad about something.

It’s probably wishing too strongly to think that America, which seemed to get really cantankerous in a hurry, will collectively wake up one morning tired of being in a nationwide cranky mood. But perhaps some of the really, really angry ones will start sleeping in a bit later before they bring more gloom.

Like I wish that lady had done those years ago when I was on that call-in radio show. I just hope that if I did mention Granddaddy’s shortening-inspired adage, she didn’t misunderstand me and think I said, “Some folks just won’t believe the Lord’s greasy.”

Nah, she probably didn’t. I’m sure if she had, she would’ve tweeted me all up and down about it by now.

Email Jim Hendricks at [email protected]. Follow @ABH_JHendricks on Twitter.