The Achilles Who Stayed Home: Letters to His Sons

By Ronald Jenkins

The author explores the meaning of sex, love, marriage, happiness, religion, prejudice, education, family relationships, illness, death, and many other topics with frankness and humor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483442235

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THE ACHILLES WHO STAYED HOME

Letters to His Sons

Ronald Jenkins

Copyright © 2015 Ronald Jenkins.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4222-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-4223-5 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 12/04/2015

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface

How to Treat a Mother or Father Who Bugs You

In a Nutshell: Make Someone’s Day Special Because You are Part of it

Happiness

In a Nutshell: Give a Compliment

Complaining

In a Nutshell: Remember People’s Names

Tips for Writing Clearly

In a Nutshell: Never Belittle Anyone

Money

In a Nutshell: Don’t Brag

Read Great Literature

In a Nutshell: Perfect the Art of Conversation

Passion

In a Nutshell: Saying I’m Sorry is Not Enough

Parenting

In a Nutshell: Look on the Bright Side

How to Learn

In a Nutshell: Make Your Word Your Bond

Urban Life vs Suburban Life

In a Nutshell: What Are You Really Worth?

Sex and Love

In a Nutshell: Neither a Borrower Nor a Lender be

The Past Has Your Number

In a Nutshell: There is No Free Lunch

Settling Down

In a Nutshell: Don’t Lie

A Debt to Greece

In a Nutshell: Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

Prejudice

In a Nutshell: Speak Correctly But Not Stiltedly

Voice

In a Nutshell: Use Good Table Manners

Financial Security

In a Nutshell: Purchase With the Intent to Keep

A Living Language

In a Nutshell: Improve Your Mind

The Kingdom Within

In a Nutshell: Memorize

You and the University

In a Nutshell: Value the Humanities

Five-Year Plan

In a Nutshell: Keep in Touch

University Days

In a Nutshell: Learn a Sport

Great Teachers

In a Nutshell: Remember the Spiritual Side

The Ideal Spouse

In a Nutshell: Be Aware of World Events

Use Little Words

In a Nutshell: Nourish Your Health

The Institution of Marriage

In a Nutshell: Say Please and Thank You

Respect the English Language

In a Nutshell: Never be Rude

Carpe Diem

In a Nutshell: Be Happy

At Home

In a Nutshell: Don’t Complain or Give Up

The Past: Let it Go!

In a Nutshell: Celebrate Others’ Red Letter Days

Slow Down

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Host

Sainthood

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Guest

Names of Things

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Child

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Sibling

Illness

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Parent

Time and Roots Wound All Heels

In a Nutshell: Treasure Family Ties

A Leader

In a Nutshell: Harbor No Grudges

Abandon Hopefully

In a Nutshell: Be the Perfect Employee

That Final Utterance—What Will it be?

In a Nutshell: See the Humorous Side

A Gentleman

In a Nutshell: Learn to Cook

Be the Best You can be

In a Nutshell: Learn to Play an Instrument

God

In a Nutshell: Be Thankful

Let There be No Mourning at the Bar

In a Nutshell: Keep Your Own Counsel

In a Nutshell: Pay Your Own Way

In a Nutshell: Give of Yourself

In a Nutshell: Speak to Strangers

In a Nutshell: Enjoy Being Alone

In a Nutshell: Have A Five-Year Plan

In a Nutshell: Be Selective of Your Friends

In a Nutshell: Help Your Community

In a Nutshell: Live the Examined Life

In a Nutshell: You Can Excel

In a Nutshell: You are a Ruler

In a Nutshell: Vote and Urge for Reform

In a Nutshell: Don’t be a Slave

In a Nutshell: Attitude is Everything

To My Sons,

Colby and Drake,

Who keep me forever happy and forever young

PREFACE

At the beginning of the Trojan War, the mightiest warrior in the world, the invincible Achilles, has a choice between two irrevocable options. He can sail with his fellow Greeks to Troy, where he will be unmatched in military prowess during the ten-year siege; but in the final year, when the great city is sacked, he will be killed. But his name and glory will ring through the centuries as long as the world shall last. His other option is to stay home. If he stays, he will live a long life, surrounded by friends and loved ones, but will die without glory, his name lost to oblivion. Achilles chose the first option; and as foretold, his name and glory remain forever fresh.

I would have chosen the second, and so you, my sons, call me the Achilles who stayed home because I avoid risk and danger, love life for its own sake, and content myself with hearth and home. There is a kind of hubris, I think, in sacrificing life for earthly glory. I know of no better way to thank the Immortal Gods for the Living Torch of Life than to cherish and protect it as long as possible.

There is much to be said, of course, for the active life. Without those who are dissatisfied with life as it is, without those who seek unknown territories and push against boundaries of all kinds, civilization’s forward march would be slow indeed. But there is also something to be said for the contemplative life, retired from the fray, alone, introspective, content, ending without fanfare.

When Epictetus was asked what he would like to be found doing when overtaken by death, he said: If I might choose, I would be found doing some deed of true humanity, of wide import, beneficent and noble. But if I might not be found engaged in ought so lofty, let me hope at least for this—what none may hinder, what surely is in my power—that I might be found raising up in myself that which had fallen; learning to deal more wisely with the things of sense; working out my own tranquility, and thus rendering that which is its due to every relation of life.

If, at death’s door, I could say that I had rendered that which is its due to every relation of life, I would, in my view, have lived a good life. I would have made the most of my time on earth. Even though that Final Exit draws near, I can make no such boast. Nor can I boast of having acquired much, if any, wisdom over the years. Some say it comes with age, but I have not found that to be true. What I have learned about life is painfully commonplace.

Over the years, I have told you all I know in these (expurgated-from-personal-matter) letters, much of which may be entirely wrong. I tried to spare you pain, while urging you to excel and to be the best you can be. Somehow, in spite of my influence, you have become men of good will, sterling character, and tender, loving natures.

As you reread these letters, take everything I say with caution, using your own good judgment to discard the irrelevant and erroneous, which may, in fact, be almost everything.

Portia, in The Merchant of Venice, says, I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. I wish, indeed, I could say I had followed the advice I gave; but what little I have learned over the years comes, not so much from personal experience, but from the observation of numerous others who succeeded in mastering one or more of life’s challenges.

HOW TO TREAT A MOTHER OR FATHER WHO BUGS YOU

I am sure I never bug you. That strikes me as an impossibility. I am sure, too, your mother never bugs you. Impossible! But if you think she and I bug you, you don’t know jack shit. When I think of being bugged, I think of my mother. She was a master of that art! I know that’s hard for you to believe because she treated the two of you as if you had dropped right out of heaven. With me things were different. It’s a sad irony that we generally treat family members—the people we love most in the world—worse than we treat anybody else. I have a young friend who finds it hard to be in his mother’s presence for more than a few minutes because she knows where his most sensitive buttons are, and she can’t resist pushing them.

I understand his situation completely because my mother knew the whereabouts of my buttons (well hidden though they were) and simply couldn’t leave them alone. Even when I was in my fifties (oh, to be fifty again!) with a wife and you two children, the button-pushing continued. I would drive six hours to see her, and I wouldn’t be with her thirty minutes before she would say something like You’ve gained a lot of weight (which was true). That starch-filled food is not good for you, you know (also true). And then she would get upset if I didn’t eat like a pig at every meal: Don’t you like my cooking anymore? Or she would run her hand over my head and say, Have you tried any of those hair-growing medicines? You’re receding a lot (which was true), and it makes you look old (Jesus, how true). You need to give some of those medicines a try.

The reason our buttons are so sensitive is that they try to hide the Truth, and it’s the Truth, stripped naked right there in front of us, that irritates us so much. If my mother had said, You’ve lost all your teeth—(well, that’s not a good example) or—You’ve turned purple since I saw you! or You have eleven fingers now, I would simply laugh (and call for the men in white coats) because what she said was not true. It’s the Truth that hurts and irritates!

She not only held me accountable for my weight and hair—Oh, if they were my only shortcomings, I think I could manage!—but I was also held accountable for my wife’s deportment, my children’s acne, my dog’s grooming, and my overall lack of success when measured against that of celebrities.

She knew exactly how to put me in my place. During my short visits, she maintained her routine of reading the local paper aloud to my aunt while I sat silent, listening. They lived together. On one visit, she was reading about a high school friend of mine who had done something to get his name in the paper. She read, Dr. Sanders won the award while … My aunt interrupted, I didn’t know he was a doctor. He’s not, my mother replied, he’s just like Ronnie (referring to me). He’s not a real doctor. She knew how to put my Ph.D. into proper perspective.

What was my reaction to all the button-pushing? I wished, first of all, I’d stayed home. My feelings were hurt, my ego wounded, my pride shot to hell, and my anger aroused. And I fought back. Before long both of us would have been better off with duct tape wrapped around our heads.

So it went for many years. One day I got to thinking (something I don’t do very often). One of us has got to grow up, and I don’t believe she’s interested. So it’s got to be me. For a long time I was fooled into thinking Old Age and Wisdom were relatives. But as I began catching up with my mother in age, I saw that Old Age and Wisdom would hardly recognize each other if they met on the street. I knew my mother would never quit nagging me unless I could figure out some way to make her stop, and nagging back certainly hadn’t worked. If I couldn’t find a solution, our brief visits would continue to leave us exhausted and eager to say good-bye. And what a shame since neither of us was getting any younger. Furthermore, we both loved each other. So why keep on hurting each other?

I was