A long time ago, I heard the words, “show some respect.” They were uttered in disgust by my Father at something I had done. I knew I was in the wrong, but the weight of those words took years to register to me. I didn’t understand all the nuances that a statement like that can hold. As with so many other teenagers, (and even tweens), I was very literal.

Now that I have a daughter of my own, I have a better sense of what both sides might have been thinking. I imagine what my Father was really saying to me, and I understand, with a certain level of shame, how I was defiantly trying to make my own way in the world.

This summer, I came across a song on a local country radio station that puts thoughtful context to those 3 words.

Show some respect by Bobby Wills 

He said Hey 22, I wore that jersey too.    You see me now, you’d never know I was a one man show    Back in the good old days    Us boys could really play    We almost took it all the way   To state that year    So remember all the rest    That wore that number on your chest    And show some respect

Young kid playin’ in a bar    With an old beat up guitar    No idea of all the nights    It used to shine in neon lights    Never thought of all the hands    All the hours, dreams and plans    And all the thrown-together bands it made it through    It needs a lot of love    So when you pick it up    Show some respect

CHORUS    Some things are more than things    More than steel, wood or strings    More than what a person sees with the naked eye    More than just history    They’ve left behind a legacy    Some things have earned their keep a hundred times

So you took that beat up truck    Lifted the whole thing up    Put lights all over it    Big tires and a muffler kit    But I bet you never gave much thought    To the man that paid it off    With the hay and feed he had to haul    In the scorching sun    So don’t drive so fast    And get your feet down off the dash    And show some respect

CHORUS

Take a look around today    At everything we throw away    We’re all so busy running fast    We breeze right by the things that last    Like a hundred year old Georgia pine    That loves to stand the test of time    Your Grandpa’s old Case pocket knife    He used to whittle with    So when you’re around    A piece of sacred ground    Show some respect

It didn’t start with you    There were lots of others too    So show some respect