Don’t Be a George Bailey

Don’t Be a George Bailey

Gary Schneeberger

August 30, 2024

We are nearing the end of our summer podcast series CLASSIC FILMS, CLASSIC CRUCIBLE LESSONS, each episode examining the inspiration and action steps we can glean from the central characters in movies the American Film Institute named as among the Top 100 U.S. motion pictures of all time.

In every episode, we have focused on one character (OK, two in the still-to-come Toy Story) to extract our lessons, be it Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird or Oskar Schindler in Schindler’s List, Rocky Balboa in Rocky or Frodo Baggins in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

In most cases we have held up that big-screen protagonist, and the crucible(s) they overcame, to say, “Follow the steps they followed in moving beyond setback and failure and you’ll understand how to move beyond setback and failure, too.”

Except in three instances.

Two of the exceptions were found in our first two episodes: Citizen Kane and The Godfather. That’s because neither Charles Foster Kane nor Michael Corleone had the character or courage to not let their worst day(s) define them. The lessons they taught us about moving from trials to triumphs were in spite of how they lived, not because of it. If you want to move past your crucible to live a life of significance, what they teach us is what not to do.

And George Bailey nearly teaches us the same lesson. In fact, only divine intervention saves him from doing so.

Does that surprise you? That there is a more joyous path toward living a life of significance and fulfillment than being a George Bailey? Then keep reading.

George suffers through a series of crucibles — from losing his hearing in his left ear saving his brother Harry from drowning to having to step in as president of the family’s small building and loan after his dad dies, and then needing the honeymoon money he and his new wife Mary saved to keep the institution afloat when the stock market crashes. What makes these such painful crucibles is that George has, from his youngest days, dreamed of being an explorer, “shaking the dust of this crummy little town” of Bedford Falls off his feet and not just seeing, but conquering, the world.

“I want to do something big and important,” he tells his dad when asked if he’d ever consider taking over the building and loan. George dismisses the enterprise as being in the “business of nickels and dimes” – and yet, each crucible requires him to stay in Bedford Falls and keep the building and loan afloat.

George never completely stops resenting the life he is left to live or grieving the life he believes his crucibles have stolen from him. Through the thick of the plot of It’s a Wonderful Life, he continues to do the right thing even as he dreams of doing something different. He is living out a vision for a life of significance without realizing it, let alone understanding it.

Yes, it’s clear he finds real joy in his family life with Mary and their children and doing good deeds for the community. But in his heart there remains a gnawing feeling that he is not doing what he was created to do.

It takes the searing fire of his final crucible, caused by his Uncle Billy’s mistake of losing eight thousand building-and-loan dollars he was supposed to deposit in the bank, for George to see that he’s already living a wonderful life – even without the exotic vacations to faraway lands. More importantly, he sees that he is living precisely the life he was intended to live, and that he is doing something plenty big.

This is where his guardian angel, Clarence Odbody, plays an indispensable role. George, fearing financial ruin and jail, gets drunk and prays for help. Contemplating suicide, he goes to a nearby bridge. But before he can jump, Clarence dives into the freezing river and … George rescues him.

When George makes an offhand comment to Clarence that everyone would be better off if he had never been born. Clarence seizes on that hastily spoken wish to grant it: showing George what life would be like in Bedford Falls if George Bailey had never been born.

With him erased, life is bitter and bleak. Bedford Falls isn’t even Bedford Falls anymore, but Pottersville, named after the dour, greedy town magnate, its quaint town square replaced by sordid characters and sketchy businesses. Harry is dead – having drowned when he fell through the ice in 1919 because his big brother wasn’t there to save him. And Mary is living a scared and lonely life – no husband, no children, no joy. It is, most assuredly, not a wonderful life.

George flees back to the bridge and begs for his life back. His wish granted, he rushes home to await his arrest – bank examiners who had been doing an audit of the building and loan end up investigating George when Uncle Billy loses the deposit. Meanwhile, Mary and Billy have rallied the townspeople, who donate more than enough to replace the missing money. Harry arrives and toasts George as “the richest man in town.” Not in material wealth; that would be the stingy Mr. Potter. But in the richness of his relationships.

This is George’s epiphany. He sees for the first time that the life he has led has made his community a much better, richer place. He has offered hope and healing to his friends and family. His passion for adventure and to make his mark on the business world in a way bigger than the building and loan has allowed has not been denied – just realized in a quieter, more meaningful manner. He feels his impact has been slight, but it has been anything but. He understands that taking care of others’ needs rather than chasing his own wants has led to robust reward. He finally sees the same value in himself others have always seen in him.

Such is the power of embracing our crucible experiences and allowing them to lead us to discover our design, craft our vision, and make that vision a reality. When that reality leads us to live a significant life, it is indeed a wonderful life.