It was the late sixties. I was under 10, my father heading toward 50. He was, by all present accounts, a square. Literally. Boyscout, mathematician, grammarian, disciplinarian, frugal. With him, just about everything had defined corners, 90 degree angles and straight lines. Not a lot of gray, not a lot of warm and fuzzy. Be home by 11pm meant exactly that. Yes meant yes; no meant no. Self-indulgence was overruled, truth prized. Once I had to stand in the corner during dinner for telling a lie about brussel sprouts.
Dad and his square occupation as a transportation analyst provided sustenance, structure and a springboard to future opportunity. He did not seek fulfillment, except to duty, and had little skill or patience dealing with the emotional needs of a family of five. (There are still some hurts.) Even so, I can think of a lot worse ways to raise kids.
Squares are good things, he would tell me, pointing to a table leg. The reason it doesn’t rock, requiring a matchbook placed underneath, is because of close attention to squareness. It was simple math (my least favorite subject).
Culturally astute, Dad said it was a bad sign when the word “square” became a social stigma. To be called a square back then was about the least cool thing you to say to a kid. The great rebellion against squareness may have started with the beat haircut, yet today moral curvature, or should I say, distortion, is normative. Plumb lines (and squares) be damned.
(Curiously, we still prize honesty in business, integrity in government, fidelity in marriage, heroism and self-sacrifice. It’s easier to see how these “squares” really do matter.)
Today glasses and plates are sliding off society’s wobbly tables like a scene from Titanic. Our coping skills – those proverbial match books – aren’t quite up to the task.
Where in your life or organization might you need to bring things back to 90 degrees?