Distinguishing the Wheat from the Chaff

Is separating the wheat from the chaff as easy as it sounds?  How does the ordinary citizen tell the difference?  How do we try to make it real?  Compared to what? …

One of the more challenging and less talked about difficulties of human existence involves distinguishing what is real from that which only appears to be real.  Some use the old farmer’s cliché of separating the wheat from the chaff.  Perhaps it is easier on a farm.  In real life, for example, when the vices of greed and pride are presented or appear as virtue, it’s not so easy.  Beneath every truth and appearance there seemingly lies a measure of paradoxical opposite.  Although confounding at times, that which has one guessing keeps life interesting.

In my impressionable years, my father taught me many things I have not forgotten.  He was an insurance broker and had done quite well for himself, as far as I could determine, having raised five children with my traditional, stay at home mom.  Dad was a great speaker, not so great at changing a light bulb, however.

One day, dad was pontificating about the various traps and pitfalls which one must encounter on the way up the corporate ladder of success.  As one of my good friends likes to say, “Remember, the toes you're stepping on today could be attached to the ass you're kissing tomorrow.”

Anyway, my dad was starting to sound a bit frustrated, his passion catching my attention, and so I began to listen.  Sensing this, dad continued: “You know, Michael, when you get to the top, there’s only two things, basically, which you’ll find there: cream and human excrement (actually, he used a different word that began with “sh” and ends with “it”).  They both float to the top.  And, as incredible as it may seem to you, it’s exceedingly difficult sometimes to tell the difference between the two!”

At the time, given the folly of relative youth, I had no idea what he was talking about.  But, I remembered his words and learned later that dad had been right about this.  Such that today, in mid-life, I continue to find it amazing how smart my dad really was about certain things.  One of his strengths was that he could always seem to judge the character of people extremely well.

Perhaps, this was because dad was a salesman, who lived in a professional world not necessarily of “what was,” but rather, “what do you want it to be?”  In other words, his world was about image making or creative marketing.

For example, US History paints the mid-20^th century American Western man as being basic in his needs, fiercely independent, individualistic and self sustaining, without the need for (government) assistance.  The image was of John Wayne, the cowboy, and the Madison Avenue marketing creation of the “Marlboro Man.”

Some swear they are the sole torch bearers, the reality on which the hope of enlightened progress depends.  The gray suit, heavily starched white dress shirt figure of the White Anglo-Saxon Prostestant (WASP) male Ivy Leaguer fits that particular bill to a tee.  But can we count on it to be it real?

There are yet other people who walk the walk, talk the talk, and actually sound quite real and legitimate, except that they are fake through and through.  The pathological liar is the most egregious example.  They live in a nebulous world, their brain short curcuited from the ability to separate fact from fiction.  What sets them apart is one would swear they were telling the truth, even when it became certain that they were not.  There is no intention to deceive, but the message is clearly disconnected.

A terrific, concrete example of dad's metaphor in action came to America by way of the 1991 Senate confirmation hearings of Clarence Thomas for the position of Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court.  Thomas had been nominated for appointment by then-President Bush/“41” to succeed the celebrated Hon. Thurgood Marshall, holder of the so called “black, liberal seat.”

At Thomas’ US Senate confirmation hearing, things got strange.  A witness was put forth to testify in such a fashion as to discredit Thomas and thereby attempt to dissuade the Senate from voting in Thomas’ favor.  The witness, Anita Hill, was an attractive, educated black woman, who had initially been hired by Thomas in connection with his first federal job appointment.  Ms. Hill also worked under Thomas later at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC), where Thomas had headed up that agency as appointed by then-President Reagan.

Day after day the battle raged on during the confirmation hearings, which were broadcast via live television into the living rooms of ordinary citizens, who watched in fascination.  The public was mesmerized, one day by Thomas, the next day Hill, then Thomas again in a final rebuttal.  And it seemed all but impossible to tell who was telling the truth.  Perhaps we’ll never know for sure, the only certainty being that such is the way of the political process. 

Finally, distinguishing what is real from what is merely a facsimile was boiled down to its essence by Bill Parcells, the successful, former NFL head coach with two Super Bowl rings to his credit.  Coach Parcells lamented players who made excuses for poor or unacceptable performance.  Those players  typically attempted to rationalize their particular team’s slow start, for example, an 0-3 record out of the gate, with a proviso that the team really was “good” and would turn it around.  Coach Parcells would have none of it, however, formulating his standard response: “You are what your record is.”

For anyone who has played team sports, it is apparent that such a statement is unassailable.  Rarely in life does reality tend to be that black and white.

-Michael D’Angelo