SPEAKING OF VALUES By Joseph Walker

All for all Mom could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she’d just had Dick and Bob as twins. My older brothers were always together anyway. For as long was I can remember it was never just “Dick” or “Bob,” but always “Dick and Bob.” Sort of like “Stanley and Livingston.” Or “Lewis and Clark.” Or perhaps even more appropriately, “Laurel and Hardy.” One day when Dick was in the fifth grade and Bob was in third, they were playing in a sandlot baseball game. Bob was the smallest and youngest player on either side, so they stuck him out in right field - deep right field. Dick, on the other hand, played first base because ... well, because Dick always first base. But when Dick and Bob’s team ran out to take the field late in the game, a sixth grader new to the neighborhood, walked up to Dick and informed him that he was taking over at first. Dick, a sweet and gentle boy by nature, tried to ignore him. The sixth grader, almost a head taller and probably 30 pounds heavier than Dick, told him to move ... or else. Dick suggested (politely, I’m sure) that he take a flying leap. Angrily, the hulking older pushed Dick out of the way, then shoved him to the ground. Bob had been creeping in front right field since the first sign of conflict, and he was on the older boy’s back in an instant. While the stunned sixth grader whirled around trying to get his hands on his attacker, Dick wrapped himself around the would-be first baseman’s knees. Within seconds they had him down on the ground and pleading for mercy. As the newcomer hurried from the ball field, his nose bloodied and his ego in shreds, little Bob bravely shouted after him: “Remember - if you want to fight one of us, you have to fight both of us!” It didn’t take neighborhood kids long to learn that lesson. Which is not to say that my brothers terrorized the block or anything like that. I mean, Dick is an accountant, for Pete’s sake. That skirmish, which may have been the only altercation either one of them was ever involved in, wasn’t about domination, intimidation or control. It was about loyalty. And unity. And being willing to stand up for what’s right even why you’re not the one being wronged. Children seem to understand these traits intuitively, perhaps because they are more reliant upon others for their safety and happiness. But as we become more competent, capable and independent, community-oriented traits and characteristics seem to become less relevant in a world that values individual conquest above group accomplishment, and where “all for one and one for all” has been replaced by “what’s in it for me?” Take loyalty, for example. There was a time when there were few higher compliments you could pay a person than to call them “loyal.” Brave warriors were knighted for it, duels were fought over it, business was conducted through it and passions were subdued because of it. You could always count on your spouse and your friends to be loyal - to be there for you, no matter what. And if your employer considered you a loyal employee, you probably had a job for life. It’s clear to see that loyalty’s value has slipped a little through the years. The cultural narcissism of the past couple of decades has left society with a little “I” trouble. It seems to me that we’re missing something important if we’re not including group values as part of our approach to strengthening the individual. You find something special within yourself when you lose yourself in others. Loyalty to something greater than “self” - a cause, a faith, a family, a community - deepens one’s sense of “self.” It means you’re capable of caring. It means your life matters to someone or something else. It means you belong. And who knows? Someday it might also mean that you get to play first base.