There the kid was, maybe 7 or 8 years old, out in the garage. She had found an emptied WD-40 can; remember the ones? They’re mostly blue but designed with primary colors, with the red spray mechanism on top. It came with a narrow red straw, that attached to the top, enabling the user to target where they wanted the lubricant to land.
The young kid was curious… what’s inside those steel, aerosol cans? … what does it look like? … how come we can’t see it?
And so in an attempt to satisfy her curiosity, she found one of her father’s flat-head screwdrivers nearby, and started pounding on the can. The hope was that the pounding would pierce the steel, appeasing the intrigue of the elementary-aged girl.
She pounded and pounded. It started with a small indentation. The paint scraped off with the greatest of ease, but the can was indeed a stubborn bit of steel… five minutes… ten minutes… the tool kept making a dent, but progress was minimal at best. The indentation increased in size, but ever so slowly.
The pounding got harder, fiercer. But change in the size of the dent was nothing short of depressing. The bang was clearly not worth the buck.
After maybe fifteen, twenty minutes (and who really knows in the mind of a 7 or 8 year old), the young girl gave up. She would have to go on never knowing the insides of the primary product of the original Rocket Chemical Company.
Shew.
That kid was me. (And sorry, Mom and Dad, if you’ve never heard that story; it took a bit of bravery to finally come clean.)
Yes, I know puncturing metal aerosol cans is dangerous. Yes, I know the unintended depressurization can result in explosion and/or fire. And yes, I know that the warning label actually on the WD-40 can states: “Do not puncture or incinerate container, even when empty” because the pressurized container can burst if punctured, potentially causing serious injury due to the release of flammable contents under pressure.
I know that now. I don’t know exactly what I knew then. And such begins the public reveal of my laundry list of stupid.
We go here today, because I think most of us are painfully aware of society’s current, unfortunate generosity in unkindness and/or judgment of other people. We can each be pretty skillful in casting stones at someone. We often, too, are quite creative in both knowingly and unknowingly justifying why those stones deserve to be cast.
One of perhaps our most foundational substantiations of the casting, I believe, is that when we witness another do/say/believe something so preposterous, dangerous or awful, we justify our shaming response because we think we are incapable of doing/saying/believing something so preposterous, dangerous or awful.
Let me say it another way… we forget our own laundry list of stupid.
Not only do we forget, but we also fall prey to concluding our laundry list of stupid isn’t as bad as another’s. Friends, what’s that quote? “Stupid is as stupid does?”
Undeniably, my list is far longer than intentionally revealed above. Also undeniably, my list includes acts and beliefs far more recent than when I was 7 or 8 years old.
But remembering that our individual laundry lists actually exist prompts two very healthy values and behaviors: one, a need to be a frequent asker and acceptor of forgiveness. And two, an authentic humility in how we treat absolutely everyone else.
Respectfully…
AR