Sometimes guilelessness can be cluelessness. Sometimes it can be hurtful, too: the art of the polite compliment is not one of my husband's strengths, and he is consititutionally unable to "throw" a game, even if his opponent is a small child. But in a world of deception, the honesty is refreshing and reassuring. If he says something nice to you, you know he means it; and if you beat him in a game—well, that's quite an accomplishment, much cherished by the more competitive members of our family. At Thanksgiving, when much of his time is spent playing games with our nephews, I believe their goal is never so much to win as to "beat Uncle Porter."
And this is (one of the reasons) why I love him: My brother came for a visit during the time our bathroom was radically torn up, with all but the necessary accoutrements removed. We cleaned up before he arrived, but put only the minimal, essential articles back, since there was more work to be done after he left. I noticed that Porter had included among the "necessary items" a clock that my brother had given us. "That was thoughtful," I commended him, "remembering to put back D's clock for his visit." Puzzled, he replied, "For his visit? I put it out because I use it."
