Austin Lewter/Jefferson Jimplecute
My grandmother became my trusted adviser long before we worked together at the hometown newspaper. As is the case with most extended, generational families, she blessed us with her wisdom from an early age.
She was an intellectual and a literary critic, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t cut straight to the point when needed.
She always knew exactly what to say, but more importantly, she knew how to say it.
She was reared by parents both born before the first World War. They both survived the Great Depression and were among the silent generation who came of age before World War II.
Her mother was an introverted, straight-arrow lady who grew up poor, never borrowed money and was in the pew at a Church of Christ every Sunday—no matter where in the country, she was on that given Sunday morning.
Her father was an extrovert who bent more like a bow, enjoyed a good tall tale and the (more than) occasional card game.
Nonetheless, they were both salt-of-the earth people who came from nothing and were able to put two children through college.
This was the generation from which my grandmother was raised. Their work ethic and directness carried on with her.
Combined with her expert take on the English language, my grandmother’s literary knowledge was unsurpassed.
One of her famous expressions came from her own mother.
“If you lay down with the dogs, you get up with the fleas,” she’d often say.
Boy, isn’t that the truth?
We are guilty by association and our acquaintances matter.
The company we keep matters.
The people in our lives matter.
If you want to soar with eagles, you must associate with eagles.
If you hang out with vultures, you’ll become a vulture.
This was the lesson of her parable.
She told me this very pointedly when I was 20 years old. At the time, I had successfully totaled two different vehicles in a matter of six months.
I totaled them all on my own. Both were my fault.
The insurance company was done with me, and my father had his fill.
Blessedly, neither incident caused injury to me or anyone else; but it was a wake-up call.
Both happened late at night—after such an hour that nothing good ever happens.
Some days after the second incident, my grandmother joined me on a downtown bench and proceeded to let me know what she thought of it all.
“If you lay down with the dogs, you get up with the fleas,” she said.
I told her I was alone when both wrecks occurred and there were no other “dogs” in the vehicle.
“Yes,” she said. “But where were you and what were you doing before all this happened? Earlier that night? Where had you been? Where were you going?”
I didn’t answer her. I didn’t need to. She knew I shouldn’t have been out so late. She knew I shouldn’t have been driving so fast. And she knew I shouldn’t have been where I was earlier those nights.
Had I not been keeping the company I had, none of it would have occurred—had I not laid down with the dogs.
Proverbs 13:20 says, “He who walks with wise men will be wise, But the companion of fools will suffer harm.”
This is what Granny meant, in her colorful way.
More than 20 years have passed, and my driving record has been clear ever since.