The search for a perfect shirt and lessons from the Second Degree combine to give a new, beneficial perspective on life.

I have a confession to make. I secretly desire the perfect shirt. I have taken up the personal (if not Quixotic) quest for the single shirt that meets my exacting standards. Perhaps I accept this personal challenge because I spend 90% of my waking moments in dress shirts or perhaps the search for the perfect shirt satisfies a less utilitarian need, my vanity.

Regardless, I seek out shirts that have a 4-inch barrel cuff, with no less than 5 pleats, a certain blend of cotton, and, of course, a 2.5-inch button-down collar. So far, I have been forced to settle on a design Joseph Brooks brought to us in 1896 from the polo fields of Great Britain. However, if Mr. Brooks were alive today, he would find me nothing less than a pesky and demanding customer. So, my personal quest continues.

Directly across the street from my house is a laundry run by an immigrant family from Korea. My wife, Carrie, and I are very well acquainted with the manager, Lu. I absolutely had to get to know the person I entrust with my coveted shirts. Lu is one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. She is hard at it by 7:15am when I am on the way to work and when I return at 8:00 or 9:00 pm. Lu seems to keep these hours six days a week. No matter what, Lu always greets me with a smile and a friendly "Hello, Hancock." Her English isn't all that great, but she manages to communicate with her customers.

At some point, I realized that my shirts are probably nothing special to Lu. They are simply another heavy load of laundry that she must wash and package to make her living. I then decided to become something more to Lu, something more than an overly privileged young man who insists on medium starch and hangers. I decided to offer impromptu practice in conversational English. Every time I go in now, no matter how busy I am and if Lu is free, I take an extra few minutes for a basic exchange: "Nice weather today," or "How are you doing this afternoon." This way, Lu has an extra opportunity to practice her English and feel like a part of the greater English-speaking community.

I can honestly say that, over time, Lu's English has greatly improved because we can now have conversations at least five or six sentences in length. One day after one of our conversations, Lu put her hand over her chest and said what sounded like, "Hancock, you have a very green head."

I immediately looked into a nearby mirror. I thought she was telling me that I looked ill. She realized I didn't understand, so she stepped out from behind the counter, placed her hand on my chest, and repeated very slowly, "Hancock, you have a very great heart. Thank you for talking with me."

I walked away from that conversation astounded by the impact I had made on this person's life. I thought to myself, "What did I do to deserve such a sincere compliment?" All along, I engaged this person in my worldly quest for maintaining my perfect shirts. However, I ended up benefiting her and learning the value of centering my endeavors on meaningful pursuits rather than worldly goals.

It is no secret that Masonry provides us with allegorical lessons and various metaphors for personal edification. However, I personally gleaned this same lesson from the Second Degree. When experiencing the lecture portion of that Degree, I remember learning that I was now qualified as a Fellowcraft to receive my wages of corn, representing nourishment, wine, representing refreshment, and oil, representing joy.

During the period of King Solomon's Temple, each of these commodities was very valuable and arguably more desirable than currency. However, the Second Degree makes it clear that wages are not to be the focus of our work as Freemasons. For example, the ritual details our duty to study the liberal arts: grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. Furthermore, we are charged with the work of a Freemason in the sublime science of geometry or architecture as the builders of our communities.

I think the lesson, simply put, is not to focus on the material gain in our pursuits, but to focus on building our communities, which will yield the bounty of improving ourselves as men. Eventually, money is spent, fancy shirts become soiled, and buildings crumble. However, healthy communities and meaningful relationships endure the passage of time.

Each of us has the challenge to stop, take a look around, and evaluate exactly what we are pursuing. How can we improve our present condition and our community?

The Second Degree leaves us fully empowered to do so. We are invested with the Square, Plumb, and Level, metaphorically, the abilities to walk upright before man and God and to always square our virtues over the level of time. It is up to us periodically to take a moment out and evaluate what we are looking for in the journey of life and to realign or center our pursuits to meaningful ends.

My experience with Lu definitely brought me back to center. I think I was going somewhat around the bend with my quest for the perfect shirt, without realizing that the real impact I was having on another human being. Now every time I go in, the focus is less on the starch for the collars and more on the few pleasant moments I have to brighten someone's day.

The lessons of the Second Degree have taught me that such a focus in my relationships with acquaintances, neighbors, friends, and family is ideal. At the same time, I recognize I am bound to pursue worldly achievements. Now that I am invested with the tools of a Mason, I will do whatever I can periodically to slow down, take a moment out, and evaluate who I am and where I'm going.

Simply put, "Thank you!" to Masonry from someone who now better appreciates the Craft's ideals. They feel better than any perfect dress shirt ever could.

The above article, edited for Journal format, was presented by Bro. Mark S. Hancock, 32°, as an address to the Brethren of Benjamin B. French Lodge No.15, Washington, D.C., on January 16, 2002, and originally published in that Lodge's Trestleboard (Issue 153).

Mark S. Hancock is an upstate New York/Southern Maine transplant and a member of the Benjamin B. French Lodge, who lives and works in D.C., enjoys chess, tennis, the study of Roman Law, and the works of Gilbert & Sullivan. He is also a collector of pre-1900 federal and colonial tax antiquities.