A few years back I had the displeasure of witnessing the most ignorant thing I had seen in all my thirty years. The place, a funeral. The culprit was John, the deceased man’s son. (That is not his real name but we shall name him John just for the sake of the story.) John walked up to the platform to say a few words about his father, and being the colossal jewel of glittering ignorance that he is, he begins to use all sorts of profanity. John wasn’t speaking bad about his father, but his desire to “keep it real” was apparently stronger than his sense of proper funeral etiquette. Then to his poor mother’s horror and my shock, his ignorance blazed with the intensity of a billion suns as he pulls out a bottle of whiskey and demands that the casket be open so that he could bury his father with it, because it was his father’s favorite drink. Then he began to tell everyone how much of a “real nigga” he was and he didn’t give a “blank, blank, blank, blank.” Then I noticed that ignorance began to seep from him and infect others, as a few stood and cheered him on. A couple of his sisters tried to get him to sit down, and he then proceeded to cuss them out and say,
“I was his favorite son! I was his best son!”
Finally a few of his brothers walked up to the podium and got him to sit down. Just exactly how many children did this man have? Well 18 was listed in the obituary, but the rumor is the number is actually somewhere between 20-30. (I guess the family slide show with the song “Poppa Was a Rolling Stone” playing in the background was well warranted.) But I can say the deceased man appeared to be loved by many. The funeral home was packed and just about everyone got up and told stories about how his door was always open to everyone not matter what time of day or night, and one daughter even got up and told a fond memory about him cursing them out.
Later on that day as I discussed the funeral with my father and the events that took place afterwards (more happened but what I previously described was the worst of it) my father said something that struck a chord with me. He called us the BET generation. No manners, little morals, and even rarer, good old fashioned common sense. We celebrate rudeness, debauchery, and ignorance. But I will put it another way, my generation as succeeded in killing off class.
Let me explain what class is. Class is not having money, moving to the suburbs, driving fancy cars, and wearing expensive clothes. It’s not about eating with the proper fork or walking around with a book on your head. Class is about being RESPECTABLE, respecting others and yourself. It’s about making an honest living. It’s about taking care of your house, your home, and your family, LEGALLY. Class is about personal responsibility, realizing that no one owes you ANYTHING, but you owe God EVERYTHING, for Jesus paid it all, and all to him, I owe.
But sadly that is not how many of the people in my generation think. They think that someone owes them something. That under the guise of “keeping it real” they have a total lack of proper respect and proper etiquette of those around them. In short “keeping it real” is a self- appointed license to be and act like a total fool. These people are going to do whatever it takes to get what they want or need no matter at whose expense. A generation that celebrates pimps, whores, thugs, and hoodlums....this is the death of class.
It is sport to a fool to do mischief: but a man of understanding hath wisdom.
Proverb 10:23
