As an adolescent growing up in 'Blue Collar' East St. Louis, Illinois, I soon came to understand what the phrase, 'keeping up with the Joneses' meant. My devout Christian grandmother, Mammy Bennett explained using the Commandment: "Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is thy neighbor's." As a teenager, I was content / even happy to drive the 1950 family Chevy in the year 1956 and wear regular jeans instead of the latest 'cord' pegged-pants. If I could earn $4.00 working all day Saturday at my aunt's grocery store, I was happy as a pig-in-a-sty because I had date money. Thank goodness, I didn't date the Jones girl.
I married well. My wife was never excited about nor driven by material desires. I believe she understood that she married the 'pig' and she would attempt to keep our sty clean and presentable.
Today, I look out my front door and notice one neighbor has a $85,000.00 boat, another has a BMW and three of my close friends leave every winter for Florida dwellings. All of my contemporaries grandchildren seem to drive late model automobiles and are understood to have the latest technology devices. Somewhere along the line that 'covet commandment' lost some volume!
On a personal note, I had my six months med-check with the family doctor yesterday and my medical test reports cause me shame to even briefly 'wish or covet' any thing! I have transitioned through life without those superficial designer tags that are seemingly desired by many as if designating one to a higher status. Today, at this scaffold in my life, I would not have the energy nor inclination to covet any thing other than a continuation of my own good kismet!
I should 'come-clean' with one minor coveting confession; a shady spot in my backyard come this spring after working up a grass-cutting sweat. I can close my eyes, right now and feel the breeze as I sit on my swing with poodle,"Yodie" and eat peanuts I just poured into a bottle of Pepsi.
Whoa, Nellie!
Should I buy Polo brand shirts then I allow Ralph Lauren to define me...as a fool!
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