The Emperor's New Clothes

“Humpty Dumpty Magazine” was (and still may be) a children’s magazine which I read many years ago. It presented simple stories, poems and other reading material for young children. One continuing story was of a monkey who was always into mischief. One episode featured him eating too much and exclaiming “My eyes were bigger than my stomach!” Looking at the picture, my six-year-old mind didn’t see eyes larger than stomach and I questioned the meaning of the sentence. It puzzled me for some time and only later did it dawn on me that it was a metaphor-my first such recognition. Another edition retold the story of the emperor taken in by crafty weavers, who informed him that they would weave a garment which would tell him who was worthy among his courtiers. The picture showed the emperor in a “union” suit-full body long underwear-for propriety’s sake, I suppose. The emperor, as you remember, went on full dress parade before his subjects, all of whom exclaimed over the beauty of the garments, not wanting to be seen as unfit, but who could barely contain their laughter at the sight of the nude emperor. This was true, until somewhere along the parade route, a little boy exclaimed, “But the emperor has no clothes!” Now no one can be unfit to be a child, so the truth was out, the emperor was made out to be the butt of a scam and the people were revealed to be the sycophants they truly were (and are). But what about the little boy. His honesty, his childish naiveté are honored as being untouched by the social climbing and artificiality of those seeking the approval of those in power. He had no ladder to climb; he was already at the top from which he could see clearly. While we were wrestling on the floor, my four-year-old grandson recently exclaimed “Grandpa you stink! You need to take a shower.” Such is the pure and uninhibited nature of childhood, unbounded by society’s social amenities, they speak the truth (and he was right-grandpa did need a shower!). This morning, talking with my wife, we discussed various individuals (not you) and pointed out their various flaws. It dawned on me that we were claiming to have the insight, the wisdom of that child, “but he/she has no clothes!” Dissecting their lacks and wants, we revealed to each other how their clothes were invisible and we could truly discern the motives for their actions. But wait just a minute! The emperor’s critic and my grandson spoke the clear-eyed truth. I may have been telling the truth when pointing out the flaws in others. But a child’s motive is observation; mine was judging. I took the position of judge, jury and executioner onto myself. Why do I do that? Is it perhaps to make me feel better? Superior? In comparison, are my faults minimized when portrayed against someone else’s? Is my log somehow diminished, at least in my own eyes, when I point out or maximize another’s dust mote? I don’t’ have the answer, but would that I might have the child’s clarity of vision to see my own embarrassing state of undress before I walk out the door into the parade of life. 8/10/13