Today I met a great man

When I was a smart-ass young countercultural type, inclined toward a vaguely Eastern all-is-one model of spirituality (and eschewing the Judeo-Christian model of individual accountability before a sovereign Lord), I was always on the lookout for "enlightened beings."  Not just relatively serene and content types, but the embodiment of ultimate cosmic understanding.

Of course, I've abandoned such a preoccupation, but in its place, my radar is now attuned to examples of human beings exuding character and wisdom born of humility.  I met one such person today in the most unlikely of settings: a dynamometer factory.

One of my long-standing gigs as a freelance writer is the cover story and other local feature article for each issue of a quarterly business magazine.  My current assignment is a profile of a dynamometer company in our area.  Today I went there to interview the CEO and take a plant tour.

It's about as technical an environment as you'll find.   There is a machine shop, where the faces of castings get smoothed off to stringent specifications.  There's a paint booth.  Boring and milling equipment. Test cells to measure torque and speed.  An area where electronic controls are made.

My conversation with the owner, an unassuming fellow with an easy smile, followed the usual arc: his background, the circumstances of his buying the business, square footage of the facility, number of employees, customers, marketing efforts, quality standards applicable to his field.  I found him articulate and in possession of a wealth of knowledge.

It when I got to my two customary conclusion-of-interview questions - from what does he derived his greatest satisfaction, and what does he see as his greatest challenge - that I began to take his full measure as a good and great man.

Regarding satisfaction, he said that it was being able to assure customers of a solution to their problems.  He said that for all the arcane details of the dynamometer field, he considered himself to be in a people business. He then volunteered - in fact, strongly hinted that he'd like mentioned in my article - that he was a man of faith.  He stated plainly, following with a pause, that his faith was more important than his business, and that he tried to operate on principles derived from his faith.

Which led us into a conversation about the folly of thinking our species had all the answers.  He said that much of our current predicament as a society stemmed from an attempt to usurp the powers of the Divine.

His greatest challenge? Government regulations.  Environment, safety, health insurance, taxation.  "There was a time when government's relationship with business was more positive," he noted.  "Now I probably spend 25 percent of my time figuring out what regulations are coming down the pike and how to adapt to them while remaining profitable."

He flatly characterized the course of our nation as the path to socialism.  "Government is going to continue to impose policies that consolidate businesses into ever-larger bureaucratic entities that are easier to regulate.  Unless there is a sharp reversal soon, I fully anticipate that companies like this will no longer exist at some point."

This is a guy who grew up on a farm in Kentucky, studied business administration in college, and then embarked on a career in the dynamometer business.  The breadth and depth of his understanding of the relationship between the individual and the state - and between God and the human being - just comes from a particular set of experiences and accomplishments, not any kind of specialized immersion in philosophy, science or esoteric regimen.

If America has a chance at a future that's not grim and characterized by decline and meaninglessness, it's because of individuals like this man.

Giants among us aren't always before a camera.  Sometimes they're roaming the shop floor, quietly advancing the lot of our species in spite of the obstacles set forth by a fallen world.