Character

Some years ago, Reader’s Digest carried a serial called “My Most Unforgettable Character.” Each issue was a story about some person and the influence made upon that writer. Merriam-Webster has more definitions of character than Van Camp has Pork ‘n Beans. They go all the way from “…moral excellence and firmness,” “… a person marked by notable or conspicuous traits,” to “… a graphic symbol”–and then some. But I’m thinking of  “…moral excellence and firmness.”

And I’m thinking of my maternal grandfather, who for me represented moral excellence and firmness. He was truly a country gentleman. I grew up across the road from his home, and a stone’s throw from his country store. During WWII his store had a side room that housed my dad’s barbershop, operated Friday nights and Saturdays; the rest of the week my dad farmed. The closeness of the store and my dad’s shop found me toddling around the premises often.

After The War, Grandaddy built a larger, brick general store, complete with a meat market, walk-in cooler, and hardware section. Across the front of the store, above the awning—black letters on a white background was emblazoned in letters two feet high—T. JEFF VEAL, SR GOAT TOWN GA. As the concrete floor was being poured, he had his youngest four grandchildren stand in doorways — two in each doorwar– and embed our footprints.

It was in that store where I witnessed the core of his character. One day, a salesman popped in, jovially greeting everyone. Grinning and glancing around, he asked, “Are there any women in here?” Grandaddy knew the man was preparing to tell unsavory jokes. Looking straight at the salesman he said calmly, “No. But there is a gentleman here.” Immediately, the salesman’s countenance changed. He took out his order book and turned to the business for which he came. I have never forgotten that scene.

Another vivid memory also arises from the post-War era. Our little Methodist church was part or a four point circuit; meaning we shared a pastor with three other country churches. Often, after worship was over, and the minister and his family were preparing to leave—with whichever family had invited them to Sunday dinner; Grandaddy would quietly say to him; “When y’all finish dinner, come over to my store.” Some time in the afternoon, He never opened his store for business on Sundays—yet Grandaddy would meet the minister and his family at the store. He would load them up with groceries, and other necessities, saying “I hope this helps a little.”

As Grandaddy’s family grew, so did his reputation as a trustworthy neighbor. In those days, it was common that any drunk black man would be caught and put in jail. Often Grandaddy would be awakened in the middle of the night by a man’s family, asking him to bail out a family member—which he did readily. “Mr. Jeff,” as he was known could always be counted on.

I recall a passage from the Book of Proverbs that I consider a genuine description of Grandaddy’s character; A good reputation is better than much wealth;
    high esteem is better than silver and gold.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2023