Responsibility

What a long word! What does it mean? Well, the dictionary talks about "Being morally accountable, and reliable". How long does it take one to truly understand the outlying borders or the nearest globule of such broad directives? My Dad, as I have discussed in "Surviving High Society" was the first one who taught me that usually whatever one does has a consequence and that in many cases, it makes sense to try to think a little about the consequences before you do or say something which could be significant.

In 1962, when I was 21 years old, I made a promise to my dying father that I would do whatever I could to protect my younger adoptive brother. I made the promise because I loved my father dearly and because I knew he needed to hear the promise. But I hoped and prayed I would not have to follow through on that promise.

And for a long time, I didn't have to do anything because Ted and I lived very different lives in different states. I had lived by the premise that if one lived responsibly on one's own (did not lie, or steal or cheat and did not do stupid things like getting stoned or drunk every night), that would be enough. I lived alone then and my responsibilities were just my own....no husband, no children.... just my cat, my car, my job, my mortgage, a few friends, etc.

The phone call came out of the blue from an adjoining state in 1983.

It was Ted and he was definitely in trouble. Drunk, living in a motel, he reported that he ate "One dozen fried eggs and a bottle of scotch for breakfast.....his main meal of the day." We talked for a bit and I got the name of the motel and his phone number. After putting the phone down, I cried for five minutes.

And I remembered the promise I had made to my ashen faced father who would die eight months later. What could I possibly do for this man, this brother, I barely knew? There were so many reasons why I was unable to help. I had no medical degree, no expertise in alcohol abuse, no fortune I just could dip into and just support him. I lived 150 miles away and dreaded the idea of trying to find his motel in Boston. I had many commitments to an organization in the town I lived in. I felt as if I was being asked to be a good Samaritan and I wasn't sure I wanted to do that. How involved was it all going to be?

As I cried, my Dad's face kept coming up in front of me. He had been the most moral and reliable man that I had ever known. And I had made that promise. I kept trying not to remember that I had done that. Robert Frost's verse kept pushing its way into my head. "But I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." I had gone many miles and had slept many sound nights. Now it was time to keep a promise.

Drying my tears, I picked up the phone again, dialed the Bank and asked for Ted's trust officer. I started a conversation to see what could be done for him. There was much that had to be done over the years. But I never regretted making that call.