A Moment of Truth

Years ago, when I was about 25, I owned a small restaurant and catering business in my hometown of Kingston, Tennessee. (pop. 4500). I’d kind of batted around after high school wondering what the hell direction my life would turn, and living in fear of a real job to the extent that this seemed to be just the right compromise. I mean,,, you were Rich if you had your own business – right?

My shop was situated in the old Roane County Courthouse on the town square, adjacent to Kinser Drug, the First Baptist Church, First National Bank, and the New Courthouse could be seen in the distance as well.

Now after the new courthouse was completed there were a certain number of folk in town who just couldn’t bear the though of razzing the older place, hence, the Roane County Heritage Commission was formed – for the purpose of “Preserving the Past for Future Generations” and so the building was spared for what would become Kingston’s ‘first (and to this day ‘Only’) mall’…

The building was an anti-bellum pre-Civil War relic with large white columns and beautiful hardwood floors. Graceful old oak trees lined the walks leading up to the building, and I remember a quaint old lattice work bandstand out on the lawn, where on Friday evenings the Heritage Commission would have engaged some sort of entertainment – be it a barbershop quartet or a local bluegrass band, you never lacked for exciting things to do on Friday evenings in downtown Kingston!

Life for me was pretty good in that old shop, for a while anyway… I was about 4 blocks down from the local high school and got great traffic from the ‘cool kids’ who could afford to leave campus for lunch. We also got a ton of traffic from the new courthouse and the many lawyers’ offices surrounding town square as well as friends from the church I attended.

(One of the first rules of small town business: As quickly as human possible after hanging your shingle – get thee to a large local church and request a membership (Run! Don’t walk))

But people knew me and people liked me …..I guess you could say I was finally popular.. I was finally accepted. I was makin’ a pretty good livin’ and havin’ some fun as well. Life was good.

Now, across the street from that shop were some rental row houses… and in one of them were a trio of some of my most frequent customers. I don’t remember their names, but they were husband and wife and daughter. I think the daughter must have been in her early twenties. She was a bright girl but a bit overweight and (not kidding here) didn’t really have a neck. I know she was a bit down on herself because of her appearance and it was difficult for her to keep a job. I felt for her. Her father, a really nice man, who drove a truck when he could find work, just couldn’t seem to keep his act together either.

So in the evenings, about once, maybe twice a week, I’d call them and ask them if they could do me a favor: I would tell them that I’d just had too many dogs and burgers left over at the end of the day and really couldn’t sell them the next day… so rather than having to throw them out “Would y’all mind to come get em and take em off my hands?” Well of course they would and be happy to do so. Nice people. I was glad and honored to be able to help without damaging their pride. It felt good, and we developed a comfortable little friendship of sorts.

A few months into our acquaintance, I was sitting in church one Sunday morning chatting with friends – being the ever-popular ME, and the more-than-able star of the Allan Miller show. Entertaining the troops as only I could…. And who should walk down the isle of that crowded church but my ‘hot dog’ family….

I froze instantly. I thought to myself ….. justifying my snobbery.. “now this is church and NOT work… I deserve to be free to not have to politic for the shop on Sundays at Least!” And so I turned my head and looked away. One of my friends even said to me rather snidely: “Hey, Mr. Miller... aren’t those your friends from the shop?” I actually lied and said something like: “Well, I see them come in all the time, but don’t know them that well”.

Something inside me died at that moment. It was a genuine Moment of Truth for me. One of those moments where you cannot hide, least of all from yourself. I knew better than that.

Instantly I was crushed and disappointed in myself – I felt the full weight of something called ‘integrity’ bearing right down on my young and foolish chest – and I was ashamed. Hilda Catherine and Lewis Joseph had NOT raised their children like this, and even if they had it was still wrong.

I sat there during that church service, and pure truth gnawed at my colon like a cancer in its final stages. I was furious, probably more so than I had been at anything in a long time – but this time it was at myself and there was no place to hide. I ……was Wrong.

As I let the thought of knowing that I had done something truly vulgar in the universe wash over my soul I determined right then and there that if it was the last thing I did – I was going to fix this before I walked out of there that morning. I could look almost anyone in the eye and lie for political expediency but I could Not look myself in the eye when it came to such blatant dishonesty on a soul level and give myself a pass. I somehow knew that if I sat on this and did nothing there would be a long hard road to recovery.

After the sermon, during the invitation to the altar (commonly given at the end of a sermon in many Protestant churches – and especially the Southern Baptist kind … ) the Hot Dog Family had come forward to speak with the pastor about joining the church… about being ‘part of us’. And so after clasping hands, and hugging, the pastor had them stand in front of the church as he told the congregation how blessed we were to have this nice group of people want to join our fellowship – and wouldn’t we please be sure to drop by to greet them and give them the right hand of Christian fellowship, and on and on… (at this point, many of us I’m sure were thinking: “Would that man stop at Nothing to ensure his people would not be able to beat the Methodists to the local cafeteria??~ Doesn’t he have ANY idea what time it is?)

As the the chairman of the deacons stood to offer the benediction – I rose from my…. In fact, you might say I ‘launched’ my ass right out of that seat.. I walked down to the front of the church and shook hands with the Hot Dog Family as though they were long lost relatives and stood there with them while just about everyone else in church filed past and offered their welcome and good wishes. (I won’t lie here and say that it Didn’t feel awkward because it did – but not nearly as awkward as it might have felt had I done nothing that day)

And from that day to this I have never let what other people thought about me stand in the way of doing what I thought was ‘the right thing’. Now, don’t misunderstand, I don’t always do the right thing but it’s certainly not because I am afraid of what someone else will think. (And even if somehow I miss doing the right thing I'm never afraid to acknowledge it or apologize and try to make things right)

Peer pressure isn't always a bad thing…… if you happen to be amongst the right peers… And since then, I’ve always tried to surround myself with the right ones.

I’ve heard it said that “A friend is one who knows the song in your heart and sings it back to you when you have forgotten the words”. I have since then always tried to surround myself with like-minded people who knew me well enough to call me on such matters of integrity and to give wise council without the added strain of an emotional tie. And even though the number of people I consider to be peers in my life these days is drastically smaller than when I was president of the Allan Miller Fan Club years ago… I am proud to say that they are still a reflection of me, my ideals and values, and all that I’m trying to be.

George Washington said it best when he said: “I would rather be utterly alone than to be found in the presence of bad company”. One of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do would be to make the choice to distance myself from people in my life who did not reflect my core philosophy or values; or people who would drain my life's energy through the some form of emotional blackmail. But looking at the person I am now vs. the person I was on my way to becoming that fateful Sunday morning years ago it’s certainly been worth the effort.