This phrase was coined by Eddie Green, as the title of his song “A Good Man Is Hard To Find”:
A good man is hard to find
You always get the other kind
Just when you think that he is your pal
You look for him and find him fooling ’round some other gal
Then you rave, you even crave
To see him laying in his grave
So, if your man is nice, take my advice and hug him in the morning, kiss him ev’ry night,
Give him plenty lovin’, treat him right
For a good man nowadays is hard to find, a good man nowadays is hard to find.
In her story, “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” O’Connor searches for a spark of good within evil. The Misfit (a psychopathetic killer in the story) found enjoyment in hurting others because his experiences in life had shown how others found enjoyment and pleasure in hurting and harming him. He made enjoyment and pleasure in crime an end in itself. He thought this was his right instead of remembering that rights and duties are intertwined. Perhaps his killing of someone as old and helpless as the Grandmother planted the seed of change in The Misfit, but what is certain was that the encounter changed the Grandmother.
Redemptive Acts / Salvation… a chance to start over, fresh, anew. But whose start is it?
It’s been a long Sunday night and I have not seen any sparks of goodness.
I find myself constantly in relationships that prove the same thing; denying the notions of karma while twisting my arm behind my back until I whimper the words I hate to say, “nice guys finish last.”
I made her laugh, she made me cry, and then she pretended not to know me; hiding in her own unhappiness. And I look at you and think of what could have been, what never was, what will almost certainly be… but not with her. Somewhere I believe she still loves me, and I dream of a life where I did not waste those years taming myself like a lion and hoping to impress her with all of my new tricks.
It was too late when I found out it was she, not I, that was the lion- A maneater. I crumbled like ash between her fingers. Anxieties were high and I was not quite myself and she knew it and she fed upon it. And with great joy she kept her hands, not around me, but over me- [ Those hands with all of their power to embrace and give comfort and give love] tightened their grip as I struggled to break free, to break the surface, to find that last gasp of air- My ticket to a chance for second thoughts.
I’ve been having a lot of dreams with spiders lately.