Seeking and avoiding the George in all of us

I was sitting in a Quaker Memorial Service on Saturday for a man named George and was reveling in all the amazingly wonderful messages people were sharing about him, especially considering that George, whom I didn't know terribly well, suffered from some personality disorders and while an incredibly intelligent man, could also apparently be a very difficult friend to have. The gathered crowd made no attempt in their spoken messages to hide what everyone there knew about him and made passing reference to the challenge of being his friend, but took great care to emphasize all the best things about him as well. And I was so impressed by the loving, intelligent people with whom I was surrounded. They seemed to be all the same people who had been to all the previous memorial services I'd been to, fully of loving, caring messages about the deceased. And I was reveling in their love and thoughtfulness and wondering why there aren't more people like that in the world, when I realized that these are also the same people who, when I get back out in my car on the highway, going 64 in a 55 mph zone, will be flying up behind me, blinking their lights at me, or not letting me in when I try to merge or taking my parking space if I don't get there first. I think there is a bigger message in what I realized, but I'm not sure what it is yet. But it did strike me that that duality in all of us was apparently most evident in George himself, who could be both the best of friends to have, and the worst as well.