Skip to main content

Helping Oneself

I grew up hearing my father repeat this line many times making sure I heard him - God helps them that help themselves.  I am all but certain he did not know the provenance of the saying but I would guess he had heard it from my grandfather who taught him just about everything he knew outside what he learned in college and beyond. I think this line pre-dates his college years so its more likely than not he heard this line for the first time from his father and it clearly made a strong impression given how many times I heard it growing up. 

This sentence were served up as a reminder every time my father found me failing to apply myself which was rather often. Early in life, I had learned how to earn the tokens that proved I was working and making progress while not applying my mind to the task. There was a pride in being "clever" enough to do this but it frequently dissolved in the face of paternal disapproval at my scheming ways. 

Nothing fundamentally changed about how I went about my business but it raised awareness that I was doing things wrong and somewhere down the road there would a reckoning. As an adult first and then as a parent, I have tried to understand what makes a kid stop wanting and trying to be better. What makes them want to take lazy shortcuts. My answer in hindsight is that I was bored and did not think I was missing anything important. 

Neither is a valid excuse and I wish I was probed more on why I doing things I was doing instead of being issued warnings such as this one. I discovered the origin of this saying from reading an essay by Ben Franklin where he says:  We are taxed twice as much by our Idleness three times as much by our Pride, and four times as much by our Folly, and from these taxes the commissioners can- not ease or deliver us by allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us ; God helps them that help themselves, as Poor Richard says in his Almanac of 1733

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...