Tales of the Good and Bad
By E. Noel Preston, M.D.

   Like the late comic Flip Wilson, I've been convinced for a long time there is "good" and "bad" in all of us. Sometimes the angels are in control, but sometimes the devils take over the cockpit and we say and do something mean, rude, impolite, inconsiderate, selfish and actually downright evil. Whenever one of Flip's characters, Geraldine, was caught in a lie or doing something wrong, she would flounce her curls, smile, and say "The Devil made me do it," and we would all laugh along with her because we all knew, as crazy as she might be, she was right.

   I've also been convinced there are people in the world who actually are angels or devils -- people who bring out the best or the worst in the rest of us. My grandmother could do that -- she was the closest to being a real live saint of anyone I ever knew. She was generous, and sweet, and kind. She gave money to the church, The Salvation Army, The Lighthouse for the Blind, and C.A.R.E. -- so much so that my mother and I hid the mail so Grandma wouldn't see all their solicitations asking for even more giving. She was funny, and gentle, and strong. When she was in her 80's she was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch with her feet up on the rail and someone asked her "Hello, there, Adah, how are you doin'?" and she just smiled and said "I'm doing exactly as I please!" She was smart as a whip, stubborn as an ox, and could play the piano better than any organist at church. She taught me enough algebra to be able to pass high school math classes (something my regular teacher couldn't do at all) and she comforted me when I spat at my mother's picture because Mom wouldn't let me wash the car in my new Florsheim shoes, and then Mom burst into tears and I crawled under the bed and wouldn't come out until Grandma coaxed me out like a puppy that had piddled on the floor, and then she told me everything would be all right -- and it was. To be around Grandma and not be the goodest boy on earth would have been unthinkable.

   Father Dewey Gable at Saint Martin in the Fields Church was another saint on two legs. A beloved pastor who played the cello at Midnight Christmas Eve services, he had baptized and married most of the children, visited the sick, and buried most of the grandparents at Saint Martin's Parish. He gave marvelous, straight from the heart sermons and was a staunch conservative who vastly preferred the beautiful cadences of the old 1928 Book of Common Prayer. Years ago, when the Episcopalians were going through yet another argument about revising the Prayer Book, some of the good folk at Saint Martin's threatened to leave the denomination if the national church voted to change the Prayer Book. Father Gable gave an amazing sermon about the Russian Orthodox clergy, who on the eve of the Russian Revolution were unconcerned about the peasants rioting in the streets, but were arguing over what color of robes the priests should wear. Father Gable admonished his adoring congregation "we don't worship a book, we worship God," and all talk about whole families leaving the church ended. When I was going through my own intense and terrible hell during my divorce, Father Gable asked me why I came to the communion rail for a blessing but no longer received communion. I told him the Prayer Book said I couldn't if I weren't in love and charity with my neighbor, and he said "It doesn't say that in the Bible -- it says 'Come unto me, ALL ye that travail and are heavy laden.' You need Communion! You're the sort of person Communion is for!" And so I did, and that was one of the first few baby steps I took away from loneliness and despair towards rejoining the human race.

   Legend has it that years ago there was a horrible fearsome man, one of the most evil creatures on earth, and that a beautiful, wonderful, lovely woman was coming to live in his town. The man wanted to meet her, but knew he was so repugnant that if he dared show himself she would be horrified and refuse to see him ever again. And so the man made a mask of a good person, and although it was uncomfortable and it pinched his face, he would wear the mask whenever he came to see her. Years went by, and he continued to wear the mask whenever he was with her. One day the woman and the man died and they were standing outside the gates of heaven. The gatekeeper let the woman in, but he told the man, "You look like a good person, but no one can come in wearing a mask. You must remove it, or else go away."

   The man was terrified. He couldn't stand not being with the woman, but he couldn't stand to keep on wearing the mask without her. At last, the man took off his mask, and underneath it was the face of a truly good person, and the gatekeeper said, "Come in, the door is open for you."

   And now, after all these years, I've met Susan! I've met a woman who truly loves me, and it's dumbfounding. She's a cat person, but she loves my dog. She laughs at my jokes, even if she's heard them a thousand times. She thinks I'm the smartest man on earth. She cuts things out of the newspaper for me. She remembers my daughters' and their husbands' and the twelve grandchildren's names, and she gives them Christmas and birthday presents. She heard me blathering on about how everyone needs a passion, and for years at Christmas she would give me a puppet or a doll or a book or a pillow or something that had the word "Passion" written on it. One passionate evening I proclaimed myself a sensual creature, and that Christmas she gave me five presents, each one for a specific sense: cologne for the sense of smell, a CD for the sense of hearing, body splash for the sense of touch, a comic book for the sense of sight, and chocolates for the sense of taste. She's clever and imaginative and funny. She's my very best friend, and to be around her and not be the goodest man on earth would be unthinkable.

   I've thrown my mask away, and it didn't hurt a bit.

E. Noel Preston, M.D. is a pediatrician in solo practice in Peachtree Corners. 6063 Peachtree Parkway, Suite 202-A, Norcross. (770) 448-1553. More information can be found at www.PeachtreeCornersPediatrics.com

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