It’s not enough to gather facts when faced with an issue of importance. We need to go beyond the fact-finding and carefully evaluate what we find. That’s the lesson we get from today’s ‘How-To’s‘ post.
“Driving slowly served a dual purpose for Tog Ericson. It kept the dust at a minimum, and gave him a few extra minutes with his two charming companions. When Claude and Charlotte Watkins had asked that he and Christine be the godparents of their two children, the Ericsons were thrilled; and through the years they had come to love the girls as their own.
As they came in sight of the house, Tog was surprised to see a man emerging from the field, a short distance ahead. Scrambling through the fence, he hurried along the shoulder for a few hundred feet, before crossing, and disappeared into the woods.”
By reckoning the man’s height, Tog judged him to be a stranger because “aside from himself, Struther Tanksley and Jed Holister, he could think of no other man in the area that topped six feet.”
“Easing the car into the drive, Tog stopped by the front porch. He could find no logical reason for it; but, his uneasiness, at seeing the stranger, had continued to intensify.
As he crossed the porch, he called softly. “Charlotte; I’ve brought your family home…” A sound from inside indicated that he had been heard, but when no other response was forthcoming, he called the name a bit louder. “Charlotte?” The reaction to this was an explosion of sounds; those made by someone moving hurriedly.
Tog yanked at the door, it yielded easily, and he pushed through the opening into the semi-darkness of the draped living room. The sudden change restricted his vision for a moment, but he could make out a man’s silhouette as he ran into the kitchen. By the time he reached the outer door, Tog could see that he was a Negro.”
As Tog moved into the home he realized calling the authorities was going to be on his urgent ‘to-do’ list but he continued gathering and interpreting facts for that call.
“Waves of nausea swept over him as he knelt beside what had been a beautiful woman. Aside from the blood-matted hair, there seemed to be nothing of Charlotte Watkins in what lay before him. For several seconds he fought for control.
Without a conscious directive, his eyes sought out the compress on Charlotte’s temple. Gradually, the contradictions it represented became the catalyst for clearer, more rational thought. He stared in questioning wonder at the pan of water, the clean pad waiting to be applied, then at the other where it had been dropped on the floor.”
Tog lived in a southern city in the late 1930’s during a time when the black community was not often trusted. And, as he entered the home of his godchildren’s severely beaten mother, he saw a black man inside. Yet something about the first aid material he saw must have been analyzed correctly, for when he relayed his findings to the sheriff, through a call placed to the local telephone operator, he carefully instructed her to relay “that it looked as though the colored man was trying to help Charlotte, but he ran when I got here.”
Mr. Ericson interpreted the facts correctly. What about you? I’d love to hear about a time when you got the facts right (or wrong) and the lessons you learned along the way.
