My parents, Arthur and Olwen, were honest, working-class people

The words of David Jason—“My parents, Arthur and Olwen, were honest, working-class people who raised my brother Arthur, sister June, and me with the values of that era—patriotism, stoicism, honesty, concern for your neighbours, and judging a man by what he did rather than what he had.”—speak not only of one man’s upbringing, but of a whole generation’s moral compass. These words carry the fragrance of a time when wealth was not the measure of greatness, when character was the true crown, and when the bond of community held people steady against life’s tempests.

Patriotism, in this sense, was not a loud proclamation but a quiet loyalty—an abiding love of country expressed through work, sacrifice, and duty. It was the pride of laborers who built with their hands, the quiet resilience of families who endured war and hardship, and the devotion to a nation’s survival more than to its glittering triumphs. For Jason’s parents, patriotism was not in banners but in service, not in boasting but in steadfastness. It was a rootedness, an understanding that to love one’s land was to live honorably within it.

Stoicism too was a jewel of that generation. Life in the working class was often hard: wages were modest, opportunities few, and burdens heavy. Yet the people endured with dignity. They did not yield to despair but pressed forward, bearing hardships with courage. This echoes the wisdom of the ancients: Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor, taught that adversity is not our master but our teacher. The stoic spirit that Jason recalls is that same spirit: the quiet heroism of ordinary lives lived with endurance, strength, and grace.

To these virtues was added honesty, the bedrock of trust. In an age before contracts and constant surveillance, a man’s word was his bond. If one promised to work, he worked; if one borrowed, he repaid. To lie was not only to betray another but to destroy the fabric that bound community together. Jason remembers his parents as embodiments of this value, for honesty was not an ornament but the very foundation of respect. A person could be poor in possessions, but if rich in truth, he was honored.

Equally important was concern for one’s neighbours. In hard times, survival was often communal. Families shared food, tools, and even burdens. A neighbor’s child was watched as one’s own; a neighbor’s misfortune was answered with help. This reflects the ancient idea of philia, the love of friends and community that Aristotle deemed essential to the good life. It is a reminder that a society is strong not when each man hoards for himself, but when all watch over one another as brothers and sisters.

The final jewel is the principle of judging a man by what he did rather than what he had. Here lies the greatest wisdom. For wealth can be inherited, stolen, or lost in an instant, but deeds reveal the soul. The ancients knew this too: Achilles was judged by his courage, not his treasures; Cincinnatus by his selfless service, not his estate. Jason recalls that in his parents’ time, status came not from fine clothes or large houses, but from kindness, integrity, and labor well done.

The lesson for us today is clear: in an age often dazzled by wealth and blinded by status, we must return to these enduring values. Let us measure others not by riches but by character. Let our patriotism be humble service, our stoicism quiet courage, our honesty unshakable truth, our concern for neighbours genuine compassion. These are the stones on which a noble life is built.

Practical action flows from this. Serve your country not only with words but with deeds. Endure hardship with patience rather than complaint. Speak truth even when falsehood seems easier. Watch over your neighbors, for their welfare is your own. And when you look upon another, do not ask, “What does he own?” but rather, “What has he done?” In this way, you honor not only the legacy of Jason’s parents, but the wisdom of generations past, and you build a life worthy of respect in the eyes of those yet to come.