Charity Seeketh Not Her Own

My daughter Elizabeth's j.v. field hockey coach killed himself yesterday.

It is five o'clock in the morning and I've been awake for more almost two hours still thinking about this. We learned it about twelve hours ago, just after Elizabeth's varsity team finished practiced. Funny thing is, I wasn't supposed to be picking Elizabeth up . Most of the varsity team had already left for the pasta dinner they were attending in preparation for today's game. Elizabeth was still there, along with a couple of her teammates and the j.v. squad, because she had had a teenage hissy fit that morning and said something very unkind to her father. So, I had revoked her privilege to attend the pasta dinner.

In the chaos she had forgotten her field hockey stick. When she had called me to bring it I had refused on the grounds that she had not yet repented for her behavior that morning (I knew she could have gotten a text through if she had really wanted to). She was furious with me when I picked her up and it certainly looked like it would be a stormy night in our house. Just as we were about to drive off, however, Elizabeth's coach asked us to come to a quick meeting. Out on the field were some members of the school's grief/crisis intervention team ready to address the girls and parents who were still there. It was they who told us Mr. Taylor (not his real name) had been involved in a tragic accident that afternoon and had died.

With that everything changed. I took Elizabeth to her pasta dinner after all so she could be with her teammates. And though she still has not apologized for her nasty remark of yesterday morning (she really struggles with apologies - not her best trait) her behavior has been conciliatory and our conversations have convinced me that the irony of this situation is not lost on her. Yesterday morning she wished her father dead. Yesterday afternoon three young people were told that their father had died.

That it was a suicide makes the situation even more tragic and heart-rending. Though the girls were told it was an accident and not many details were yet available I think every adult and most of the girls present at this meeting guessed right away at the truth. Mr. Taylor's problems, unfortunately, had been on the front page of our local paper just a few weeks ago. He had been charged with embezzlement and my husband's friends in the police department said the claims against Mr. Taylor were stacking up. The man was financially and professionally ruined.

I can't say I was overly fond of Mr. Taylor. Though he seemed to be a decent man, an involved member of the community and an enthusiastic athletic coach, he was also a braggadocios kind of guy, especially where his kids were concerned. Though I didn't know much about his eldest son, who was in college by the time I became acquainted with the family, I was well aware of his other kids' accomplishments. His daughter made varsity in three sports her freshman year of high school and went on to play varsity soccer, basketball and lacrosse all four years. Ultimately she attended and graduated from Brown University. a huge source of pride for him.

His youngest boy was another sports phenom, at least according to Mr. Taylor. Here it got a little murkier, since the facts didn't always jibe with what Mr. Taylor was saying. But if we took what he said at face value we learned that several Ivy League schools were after young Charles for their Nordic Ski teams. That this young man was a good skier but not our school's best, and a good student but, again, not our school's best, didn't seem to phase anyone. Certainly not Mr. Taylor, who talked about such things non-stop. Yes, his kids were talented and accomplished - we just didn't want to hear about it all the time. I can't say that I went out of my way to spend time with Mr. Taylor.

I had a personal reason for disliking Mr. Taylor also. As Elizabeth's coach her sophomore year, we had been annoyed and frustrated at his treatment of her. Though the varsity coach had considered Elizabeth for the team because of her good speed, she had ultimately decided to leave her on j.v. so she could further develop her stick skills. We could understand this - Elizabeth had broken her pinkie in eighth grade and had only been able to play a couple of games and then in ninth grade she was benched a lot by a coach who preferred tall, hefty girls to small but quick Elizabeth. We were hopeful that under these new circumstances Elizabeth would see enough play time to further develop as an athlete.

But it was not to be. Mr. Taylor, it seemed, also preferred slow, big girls on the field and many a game Elizabeth spent the majority of her time on the bench. Though he was aware of the Elizabeth's status with the varsity coach and had promised to use her skills to help lead the team, he did not. Field hockey is a difficult sport and many of the skills necessary for success can best be developed in game situations. Naturally we worried that she wouldn't make varsity again this year after such a disappointing j.v. season. Fortunately the varsity coach appreciated Elizabeth's talent enough to take her on the team this season but we still resented Mr. Taylor for all she lost last year.

I am ashamed to admit this resentment resulted in smug satisfaction when Mr. Taylor's legal troubles became known. It seems so petty now and I am ashamed to admit the mixture of horror and glee we experienced when he was arrested. I remember picking up a friend with whom I was taking golf lesson and asking her if she had seen the paper. When she said she had not, I happily spilled the beans. She knew the meatiest part of the story before we left her driveway. As recently as Saturday night the subject had come up at a dinner with friends - it's a small town and everyone at the table had interacted with Mr. Taylor in one capacity or another. We all sat around hashing out the details of the case, shaking our heads, and sympathising with the family. All the while we felt a certain superiority mixed with relief - we weren't perfect but at least we weren't that bad.


From the start my heart has been with his family, whom we have known for several years now. Mrs. Taylor is a friendly, smart and capable woman. She was one of Elizabeth's humanities teachers freshman year and has always been kind and encouraging. His youngest son was a friend of my 18-year-old daughter, though they had not been close the past couple of years. Unfortunately, Charles had changed in ways that put a lot of his friends off. It seemed he had started to believe his father's PR shtick about him and had developed quite a swelled head. Yet Charles was still a nice kid, polite, smart and very accomplished. He is in his freshman year at a prestigious and very expensive college. That his tuition was probably paid through a combination of scholarships and grants due to the Taylors' financial circumstances - during the investigation it was revealed they declared bankruptcy about six year ago - and stolen money has been cause for consternation amongst those of us who are paying every dime of our kids' education. Now we understand exactly what all this has cost.

Of course we can never know all the particulars that led Mr. Taylor to his ultimate and fatal decision. Since he was a man who certainly seemed to seek others' approval and admiration it's easy to imagine the humiliation he felt as his shameful behavior (as a financial advisor he was accused of taking money from elderly clients) became known throughout our small and gossipy town. As I watched him strut around the field in the days following his arrest I didn't know how he did it. Had it been me in these circumstances I would have secluded myself in my house. For a man with what seemed an enormous amount of pride and ego this had to have been devastating.

That his family was being dragged through the mud with him must have made it so much worse. That he loved his family was never in doubt and it's tempting to believe that ultimately he wanted to spare them the humiliation of a trial and possible prison sentence. Yet now he has taken himself from them in a more permanent way than prison could have. He will not be there to see his son graduate, or his daughter marry, or to play with his grandchildren. And most likely he would not even have been incarcerated. In cases like this restitution seems to be the priority so over time Mr. Taylor could have paid the money back, performed some community service and put it behind him. The whole experience may have ultimately made him into a humbler and better man. But his lawyer must have told him this. Why he decided on the route he took we really can't know.

Throughout the past twelve or so hours a scripture has repeated itself in my mind many times. It is Paul's sermon on charity, which is found in 1 Corinithians 13. It is my favorite scripture - for Christmas my daughter Emily presented me with a beautiful copy of it done in calligraphy which I have hung in our foyer - and it begins with "Charity suffereth long, and is kind;" But the part that I keep hearing, the lines that scold and humble me are found in verses five and six: "(Charity) Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;"

The truth is Mr. Taylor's actions, though reprehensible, were just a more public and harmful way of hurting others. We all engage in similar actions, though usually to a lesser degree. It may only be gossip between friends or even just a a spiteful thought. But it is harmful: to others because they know what is being said behind their backs, even if they don't know specifically what and by whom; and to ourselves because every unkind thought, every feeling of superiority and self-righteousness ultimately detracts from our character and diminishes our spirit.

We will all take something different from the story of Mr. Taylor's life and death. This is what I have taken.

All I Really Need to Know About Life I Can Learn From my Dog

I've been trying to simplify my life for years now and it recently struck me that the best path to a simple and satisfying life is to follow my dog.

Now obviously I can't live life quite as simply as Madison does. I don't have the mentality or the living circumstances of a toddler, like Madison and all well-cared for dogs do. But still, there are lessons to be learned from Madison's approach to life.

1. A stranger is only a friend I've yet to meet - A friendly dog, and Labrador Retrievers like Madison are definitely friendly, loves everyone and expects that everyone loves her. Madison never greets a new person with a shy smile and cautious handshake. No, Madison explodes with joy at the introduction - her ears perk up, her eyes light up, her tongue hangs out in anticipation of bestowing a sloppy kiss, and her entire body shakes and wiggles with excitement. Sometimes she just can't contain herself and jumps on her new friend (this isn't appreciated by everyone so I wouldn't recommend it in human relationships). Since I've always been a shy person it's hard for me to perform the human equivalent of Madison's meet and greet but I think it's time to try harder. It's hard to resist anyone, human or canine, who makes you feel like you are the one she's been waiting to meet all of her life.

2. Get some outdoor time and exercise everyday - Since dogs cannot be toilet or litter-box trained (at least not big dogs like Madison), owning one necessitates daily time outside. This can be uncomfortable at times (think 24-hour torrential downpours or temperatures below zero) but it can also be invigorating. Throw in the need for regular exercise, especially for high-energy dogs like labs, and you have the ingredients for a life full of fresh air and activity. Since acquiring our first dog almost 25 years ago there have been few days we have spend completely inside and inactive. Like our postal carrier, "neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night" keep us from our appointed rounds. I have the worn-out walking shoes and rain gear to prove it. And all this activity is the perfect segue into a life-lesson of which Madison always provides a good example -

3. Never turn down a nap - Many years ago my husband read some health advice that suggested one should "exercise to your limits and then rest." How many of us, however, get to the "rest" part? Like many things in Madison's world, naps are not regularly available to the average busy human. But maybe it's time to make them as much of a priority as getting to the bank or cleaning the tub. To be honest, I have never been much of a napper, even when I was pregnant. But recently I've discovered this simple pleasure. I happened to pick up a chaise lounge for five bucks at a tag sale. After re-covering the cushion I put it in the backyard and decided to try it out. It was a warm summer day and I placed the chaise in the shade of our big maple tree. There, with a warm breeze rippling the grass and little dots of sunshine sprinkled around me, I read about two pages of my book then fell into a delicious, almost narcotic sleep. It felt so good, I confess, I have returned several times to my chaise, sometimes without even bringing a book. I bring my cell phone and set the alarm (wouldn't want to miss a kid pick-up, after all) and then drift off to a land where rest, relaxation and refreshment are the only articles in its constitution. I think it's called "The Republic of Dog."

4. Love with every fiber of your being It's been a long time since I've parked myself outside the bathroom door and whined until my husband came out. Okay, I've actually never done that. But Madison did this morning. She does the same thing to me on Saturday mornings when I stay in bed a little longer than usual. Larry lets her out of her mudroom but instead of heading to the sunroom for a little post-bedtime nap, she races down the hallway and parks herself outside our bedroom door whining and crying until I come out. When I do emerge she greets me as if we haven't seen each other for years, rather than a mere seven or eight hours. And no matter what my mood, her greeting is the same - cheerful and loving. What if we always treated those we love this way? If we didn't allow bad moods or lack of sleep or worldly worries cloud the vision of our hearts but let the love shine through unashamedly? I know I would enjoy being loved that completely, wouldn't you?

5. Never be afraid to say "I need some lovin' - A corollary to number four, when you give love completely aren't afraid to ask for it in return. Madison is never shy about coming up to us, wiggling her torso and wagging her tail and then, the minute we pat her head, falling to the floor, rolling over and showing us her tummy so we can give her a good scratch. If we're willing to give kisses and hugs and backrubs we shouldn't feel shy about asking for them when we need them too.

I'm not about to follow Madison into every one of her habits and ways. For instance, I have no desire to roll in animal feces or gnaw on a decomposing deer leg. But I wouldn't mind acquiring some of her personality traits. As the saying goes, Lord, help me to be the person my dog thinks I am. And help me to be the person my dog already is.