In a small village east of Indianapolis but west of Terre Haute, a young boy stared at his desktop… at the lumpy rag he could just barely see. Beneath the rag, was his prized possession. His Bee-Whacker. A gift from his father on his thirteenth birthday, who thought him old enough to start on his Bee-Whacking apprenticeship. He had a hard time sleeping, knowing that early in the morning his brother would take him Bee-Whacking. He finally drifted to sleep, and dreamt of becoming the Bee-Whacking champion, and of people comparing him to the ultimate Bee-Whacker, Sam.
The next morning, he rushed out with his brother, not even bothering to stop for breakfast. His Bee-Whacker in hand, he was ready to take on the world, and he barely listened to the instructions given to him by his older, more experienced brother.
He saw his first bee close to the field situated near his back yard. He rushed at it and swung. The bee flew away. His brother had stopped walking, and simply watched, while he went from one bee to another, swinging, and mostly missing.
After his tenth swing, he grew frustrated. He threw the Bee-Whacker to the ground and stomped his feet. “I’ll never be a good Bee-Whacker,” he yelled. “I’ll never be like Sam.”
His brother sighed and put his arm around the boy. “Listen, being a good Bee-Whacker is more than just being able to hit them. If you want to be a good Bee-Whacker, you have to look at the great ones—at how they lived their lives… not just how they whacked bees.
“Sam the Man wasn’t just good at swinging a Whacker, he was a sportsman, through and through. He had patience, and he didn’t let himself get angry when things went wrong. He treated everybody with respect, and never tried to hurt people. If you want to be more like Sam, you have to learn about his overall character, and emulate that. Then you’ll become a truly great Bee-Whacker.”
“You’re right,” the boy said. “I’m gonna try to be more like Sam.”
“You mean you’re going to try to be more like Sam,” his brother said. “Remember… Sam didn’t care for grammatical errors. They called him English.”
“Okay,” the boy said, smiling. “Let’s go whack some bees. Maybe I’ll even hit one so hard it’ll stick to the Bee-Whacker.”