Keep an Open Mind

Three weeks before my wife and I were married, her

grandfather died of an aneurism. Just one month prior
he had sent us pictures of his new wedding tuxedo
that
unfortunately he would never get to wear. We were
devastated.
Grandpa Phil was a great man whom everyone
adored—he was a well-known physician in a small
town
in upstate New York, an accomplished photographer,
and
an all-around good guy. He looked like a big teddy
bear,
and he reminded me a lot of my own grandfather, who
had long since passed.
The day before his funeral, we had to sort through
Grandpa Phil’s belongings to see what family members
wanted to keep and what they wanted to give away.
He
had a large house, so we divided up the task by rooms
and
I got the basement. While weeding my way through
the
clutter, I found a dusty old trunk that looked like it
hadn’t
been touched in years. I opened it and found hoards of
fi les, each marked with a brief description of what the
folder contained. Most were fi lled with photographs
that
Grandpa Phil had taken of his family and grandchildren
over the years. However, one fi le in particular that
caught
my eye had only “1934” written on the label. Inside
was
an old, yellowed clipping from the local newspaper. In -
trigued, I sat down and gave the article a quick skim.
The story was about a court case where a man was
actually
sued by his own parents. He had gone to study
medicine
in Edinburgh, Scotland, in the late 1920s because at
the time many medical schools in the United States
would
not accept Jewish students. Although his parents had
readily provided some fi nancial support for his
academic
endeavor abroad, they had a change of heart when he
married
a non-Jewish Scottish woman whom he had met while
at school. His parents disowned them both and then
sued
him for all of the money they had invested in his
medical
education. Moreover, after his wedding day, his
mother
and father held a traditional ceremony of mourning for
him as if he were dead. The man eventually prevailed
in an
extended legal battle, but his parents never talked to
him
again. He and his wife, and subsequently his children
and
grandchildren, were permanently cut off from his
parents
and relatives, many of whom lived in neighboring
towns.
Only after I reread the article a couple of times did
I realize that the man in the story was Grandpa Phil. I
was struck by the regret that his parents must have ex
-
perienced at some point for never seeing their son’s
family
grow up and for never being a part of their
grandchildren’s
and great-grandchildren’s lives. I also tried to imagine
how
hard it must have been for Grandpa Phil and his family
to
live in such isolation; surely it must have been a
source of
regret for them as well.
People may look different, act different, or believe in
different things. But that doesn’t make them any
worse
than us—or us any better than them. When we reject
others
simply because they are different, we deny them the
re spect they deserve as human beings and make a
statement
about our own character in the process. We also miss
out on the opportunity to get to know what they have
to
offer as individuals. This sense of “never knowing what
could have been,” along with the narrow-mindedness
and
implicit arrogance that go with it, are viable reasons
for
regret that can easily be avoided if we work harder to
keep
an open mind.
Make it a habit to set aside your preconceived notions
and assumptions about others. Give them the benefi t
of
the doubt and strive to be more accepting of their
differences.
Think of how you would like to be treated if
you were in their shoes, and then treat them
accordingly.
When you keep an open mind, people just may
surprise
you and do great things.