Serving Barnwell County and it's neighbors since 1852
Have you ever felt like you received more credit for something than you deserved? Well, I have.
About 15 years ago, I came across a recipe for pancakes in a little book of breakfast specialties. I made those pancakes for my family. Everybody loved them, and I’ve been making them ever since.
Today, they are called “Granddad’s Pancakes.” The recipe is even listed in a cookbook produced by our daughter Michele’s church in South Carolina. The title is: “Granddad’s Pancakes.”
But that’s not my recipe. I got it from a book, for goodness sake. Yes, I tweaked it a bit—I cut down on the amount of sour cream called for—but, still, I did not concoct this recipe. Being able to follow directions from a cookbook does not make a person a good, innovative cook. I got more credit than I deserved.
Another example: I was sent to the Army’s Wheel Vehicle Mechanics School while stationed at Fort Jackson, S.C. I graduated with honors. I was deemed a worthy mechanic.
When I reached the motor pool, however, the sergeant said he needed someone who could type to work in his office. I volunteered. Suddenly, this worthy mechanic became a clerk typist. Being able to make A’s on written tests does not make someone a worthy mechanic. I got more credit than I deserved.
In 1986, the newspaper I worked for sent me to the Washington, D.C., area to help USA Today get off the ground. (The Gannett-owned paper back home paid my salary, allowing an undetectable improvement in USA Today’s bottom line.)
One of my first assignments was to fly to Dallas, Texas, drive to nearby Garland, follow an interior decorator around for a couple of days and write an understandable piece about a company that specialized in van-traveling decorators.
It didn’t take long for the decorator to figure out that I didn’t know a color palette from a plate of spaghetti. She had to explain everything to me. She was very patient, thankfully, and the story turned out okay. A USA Today reader might have thought, wrongfully, that I was an expert in interior decorating. But I was not even a novice in interior decorating. I got more credit than I deserved.
When I was 15, I opened a book of matches and there inside was a picture of a woman. “Draw me,” the matchbook seemingly demanded. I drew her and sent my wonderful creation to a learn-art-by-mail company looking for suckers.
“I want to take this course,” I told my mother. “They said I have a lot of potential.”
“Bonelle,” my daddy said when presented the request, “I don’t think he’s cut out for this.” But he relented after my mother argued my case, and I became a struggling artist. The more I drew and painted, the more I struggled to enjoy it.
It was over after six months. My mother gave me more credit than I deserved. And my daddy knew it all along.
Sometimes, we don’t deserve any credit at all.
