“Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all.”

That’s Hamlet. And I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.

I am lazy. Ergo, I don’t read Shakespeare very thoroughly. But I love several of his lines. I recently wrote about his Macbeth characterization of life as a “tale told by an idiot. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” Especially important when I foolishly thought I was indispensable.

But “Nothing?” I don’t buy that.

So here’s a question that comes to mind from Hamlet’s line:

Was I a good kid, or was I just scared of getting caught?

From the ripe old age of 10, I was a latch-key kid. Very little supervision. Mom worked. Dad passed away when I was 4. I “coulda got away wit moida,” as a New Yawka would say.

And yet…

I stayed outta trouble. Mostly. When one of my “buddies” tried to talk or shame me into doing something “naughty” (Halloween tricks, for example) something stopped me. Never even thought about mooning the PTA. Lol.

Was that conscience? Or was it Mom?

Mom had a line she repeated so often it got wired into my brain:

“Whatever you do, don’t bring disgrace to the family.”

Now. Was that good upbringing? Or was it the very specific guilt that Moms are so expert at aiming at you?

Part of me thinks it was the “Scooler luck” theory. If I misbehaved, I’d surely get caught. No doubt that thought occurred to me more than once. But I think Mom’s warning had already done its work before the temptation even showed up.

She planted something. I’m just not sure what to call it.

The question followed me into adulthood.

Why did I choose a life of government service? Thirty years in the U.S. Air Force. Ten years as a teacher and program director at Trident Technical College.

Was it a drive to serve my country, my state, my fellow man?

Or was it my need for a secure, monthly paycheck, the kind I needed to adequately support my family?

Why not aim higher in terms of economic achievement? Make a lotta money?

Desire to serve, or fear of failure?

A little bit of both, I surmise.

Mom’s voice in my head. Hamlet’s line on the page. Eighty-seven years of evidence.

I stayed outta trouble. I served. I supported my family.

Maybe it doesn’t matter why you take the right road.

You just do.

Enuf.