In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash
The above saying was coined by the humorist Jean Shepherd and served as the title of his best-selling collection of short stories. One of those stories was made into the classic movie “A Christmas Story.” I also understand that the saying has been used as a sign and posted in bars and other business establishments. With good reason.
Note that this applies to “human” relationships. That does not include our relationship with Artificial Intelligence, which can be decidedly untrustworthy, because AI often has a mind of its own. Just now, AI, (or perhaps it was my right index finger), conspired with my iPhone to turn the word “trust” into “tryst,” which would give this blog a decidedly different meaning. Tryst me on that one. Tryst is the word with a “try” in it. Repeated “trying” does not engender trust. Trust. That’s the word with an “us” in it and is a concept essential for human survival.
When I leave my house, I trust hundreds of drivers every day. This trust, over 86 years, has been betrayed just three times — by drivers turning left in front of me at an intersection, without the courtesy of a turn signal. My body shops thank them. My body itself thanks seat belts. My auto insurance agents thank everyone.
I reserve my personal trust for people, not institutions or things (note the AI story above). When I drew wills for clients it seemed to me that institutional trustees often did not merit the first five letters of their title. (I know, word play is work but also fun, and, hopefully, rewarding.) (Oh, uh, the machines are at again — just now AI tried to turn rewarding it into rewording — which I suppose is its own kind of wordplay. But AI should take note: I am fully capable of creating my own mistakes.)
Without trust, there can be no real love. With trust we have accomplished a moon landing.
To me trust is knowing that another human being will look out for my interests above their own, even if temporarily. That’s why I did not expect my law firm — my former law firm, that is — (they shall remain deservedly nameless) — to add a paragraph appointing themselves as a trustee should Daveen ever have the audacity to remarry after my death.
That used to be called malpractice. Today, apparently, it’s merely law practice.
I rarely write about politics. But I do read editorials. The column from which this blog emerged concerned a proposed resolution of the current Iran conflict.
Is the proposal perfect?
No.
Does it require trust?
Yes.
Are both sides completely trustable?
That’s a rhetorical question.
Alan