From the Tennessean, 02/10/06

Wondering what's right? Consider what Earl would do

By JOE PAGETTA

Guest Commentary

Can a television show make you a better person? What if the show is littered with raunchy language and features a disheveled protagonist who drinks and smokes and lives in a motel room with his ne'er-do-well brother, all the while embarking on daily goodwill missions meant to alter the course of his life?

If the show is My Name Is Earl, it just might. In the show, Jason Lee stars as Earl Hickey, a reformed petty thief who discovers karma by watching Carson Daly on a late-night talk show. At the time he sees Daly, Earl's in the hospital recovering from being hit by a car after winning $100,000 on a scratch-off lottery ticket. Earl decides he's responsible for all the bad karma in his life. He makes a list of all the people he's hurt and sets about righting all of his wrongs.

My wife and I have always considered ourselves good-hearted people. We do our best to help those in need and will jump into action at a moment's notice if we know we can help. Occasionally, we get a little bogged down when going out on limb for friends or acquaintances seems unnoticed and unappreciated. Sometimes we even feel a little taken advantaged of - then quickly feel guilty about feeling that way - and decide again that we always need to do the right thing, regardless.

This brings us to the other morning. While walking around my Brentwood subdivision, I came upon a beautiful dog near the walking track. I initially assumed he lived in the neighborhood, but after 15 minutes, his erratic snooping pattern convinced me he was lost. He had a collar on, so I called him over to check the tags, which fortunately had his name and a phone number. I called the number and a sweet-sounding woman answered the phone.

I asked if she was the dog's owner, and when she said yes, I told her he was over by the pool.

"The pool?" she inquired.

"Yes, the pool - do you live in (subdivision name)," I asked.

"No, I live in (another subdivision)," she replied. "We just moved in, and he must have gotten out."

The pooch was from the next subdivision and had strayed a good 10 blocks from his new home. Our only problem was that the woman on the phone was in another state. She asked if I could get a rope and tie him near the pool so that her daughter, whom she thought was home, could come get him. I told her I'd hold on to him for a few minutes while she called her daughter, then walked with him back to my house.

The woman called back and said she couldn't get a hold of her daughter and didn't know what to do. I asked where she lived and told her I'd be glad to take him back and secure him in the back yard.

At this point, my wife was with me out on the front porch as I spoke with the woman and discussed what to do. My wife suggested I leave the lost pooch in the garage until someone could come to get him.

And that's when I thought of Earl.

"What would Earl do?" I wondered.

"You know I have to take this dog back to his house, don't you?" I asked my wife.

"I know you do," she said.

"It's what Earl would do," I reminded her, recalling the episode we both watched the night before. In it, Earl and his brother Randy were making amends for repeatedly stealing the gas of a neighbor in the trailer park where they used to live. They not only gave him back the gas they had stolen, but convinced him not to kill himself - he was suicidal - and became his friends in the process. At the end of the episode, their new friend (and he's a really annoying guy) wants them to come in and watch old high school wrestling videos with him.

"You know I have to go in there, Randy," Earl says.

"I know you do, Earl," he responds.

I put my new dog friend in the car and drove him back to his house. There was a break in the fence where he had escaped, so I grabbed a bunch of firewood in the yard and, piece by piece, started piling it up to cover the hole.

"It's what Earl would do," I kept telling myself as I lugged the firewood over to the hole, even if I wasn't making amends for anything like stealing a dog, which I hadn't. Although pretending I did might have justified going through the hassle of bringing the dog back home.

But Earl wouldn't need a reason, so neither did I.