GOOD ENOUGH

If you hear of someone described as a "good boy", what characteristics come to mind? If you hear of someone described as a "good girl", are the characteristics the same?

Is good enough?

Today is my first official work day to not be at work anymore; in the strict vocational concept of work. Over my years of working a lot of my reading was in books of leadership, branding, marketing, motivation and such. There is a list of books of this genre that have endured. One is Jim Collins' book, "Good To Great". The most often quoted line from the book, the one people recite to prove they read it is: "Good is the enemy of great." Is it really? Now, I'm looking at things from a different perspective.

I remember back when shopping was done at stores like Sears, Montgomery Ward, OTASCO, etc. They used a marketing technique to sell the most expensive stuff like lawn mowers and washing machines. In pictures and in point-of-sale displays they would have three--lets say TVs: GOOD, BETTER and BEST. Who wouldn't want the BEST. I always felt kind of sorry for the BETTER. I mean, who's going to choose that? If you don't care whether the rabbit ears were built in, or you didn't need dual 6 inch speakers, GOOD was enough. But if you going to buy the better, why not go big and get the BEST? That's was their bet.

There was a time when living the GOOD life was good enough. Even Martha Stewart believed in the goodness of good. Remember when she would show us important things like how to take the core out of a head of lettuce? She would establish its value by proclaiming: "It's a good thing!" By golly Martha said so, good is enough.

I heard a comedian do a bit about every house needing to have at least one good chair in the living room. (I'm pretty sure he stole the idea from a skit that Tom Hanks did on SNL.) You needed at least one quality chair for when Pops came to visit. As soon as he would walk in the door, someone would say, "Let Pops have the GOOD chair."

We're visiting one of the places in South Texas where retirees go for the winter. We're renting a lovely "park model" trailer and enjoying the 80 degree weather. It has a microwave, a coffee maker, a full-size fridge, AND a good chair.

There's a comic named Dusty Slay I really like. He talks about different kinds of money: well-earned money, found money, fast money, easy money. You get the idea. Dusty says that in his home growing up they had one kind of money: Good Money. He says one day he laid his bike in the yard rather than using the kickstand. His dad told him, "You better take care of the bike. I made Good Money for that."

While we're here in the compound with folks from Canada, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa and other frigid parts, I'm looking for good weather, good fellowship, good friends, good food, good times and a good memory or so.

The hard part so far (Day two), is adjusting to the schedule. Dinner is at 4:30p, curfew is at 8:00p, lights-out is at 9:00p. WHY!?

My Amazing-Missus woke me up around 6:00a getting ready to go to the crafts building for Busy B's sewing. It's now 10:30a and I feel like I've been up all day. I'm hoping for lunch around 11:00a, and then a good nap in the good chair. Texas Hold'em is at 1:00p and there's four dollars with of good money at stake. I need to have my wits about me.

It's all good.

REVOLVING AND RESOLVING

IT'S LIKE I'VE BEEN HANDED A BRAND NEW PUZZLE: Here's your life now. I feel like I just finished the last one and now it's going back in the box.

Allow me to wear this metaphor plumb out. Just before Christmas I bought a puzzle for the GrandKids to piece together while they were visiting for Christmas. Some were interested, some not. Jeremiah, the youngest, soon to be three, decided to take a turn. After a few seconds at the table I knew that at least one piece was missing. It was an edge piece because we had already put the entire border together. I lost interest. I said to Haddi and Harper, "How can you all keep working on that puzzle knowing it has at least one missing piece? It will never be complete!"

Haddi explained to me that when you have younger siblings you don't expect that all the pieces of the puzzle will be there. Harper added, "We might find it later, but if we don't it's no big deal."

NO BIG DEAL!?

My new puzzle is called retirement. I don't know what it will look like, I don't know how many pieces are in the puzzle and I don't know if, when it's finished, all the pieces will be there. Maybe it's no big deal. I will admit that the process of our family Christmastime puzzle was glorious. With about 50 pieces to go Haddi, Harper, Malachi and I sat at the table and brought the thing together, excitement growing as each of the final pieces became a part of the whole (or nearly whole). That last piece is still missing. It actually offers a bit of hope we hang on to that someday it will be found; and to some degree I don't want it to be found. I love that there is still a project with my GrandKids to be completed.

I have a friend that is reading a book that uses a concept called "pivot points" to talk about leadership. I like this picture of life being a series of pivot points, places where we can and should revolve a bit, seeking our best path forward. No doubt, life hands us some of those points, the ones where the only option is to pivot. And that's okay. A puzzle missing one or two pieces creates a pivot point and is still fun and fulfilling.

One of the most revolting words in our lexicon is the word: squander. It means missed opportunities, foolishness, waste, arrogance. When we close up and close off, letting prejudice, dogma, and maybe even sometimes, orthodoxy bind us and blind us, we squander. We lose the chance for experiences, relationships, adventure. Not only do I hate squandering, I fear it.

I'm at a pivot point, needing to revolve, needing a new resolution. Here's my thinking about that.

As much as I am appalled at squander and squanderers, I am encourage and vitalized by creators, wide-eyed wonderers, brave wanderers, those who squeeze all there is to be squeezed, unconcerned with the possible disappointment of potential missing pieces, people obsessed with excellence and the pursuit of the sublime that exists at every pivot point.

Here's an example: Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys, pursued his musical genius with reckless abandon--almost too much. Through his mental illness he broke musical ground with a boldness that has inspired many. I'm using this quote from Brian to challenge myself as I crack open this latest puzzle box.

“Beware the lollipop of mediocrity; lick it once and you'll suck forever.”

HARK!

FOR THE MOST PART I was a pretty good attention-payer. Occasionally, a teacher or other authority figure would ask, “Are you paying attention?” It was a legitimate question. I’m a daydreamer. A blank stare off into space could cause someone to question if a daydreamer is paying attention.

HADDI’S SNOWPERSONS CREATIONS

That’s a weird figure of speech, isn’t it: paying attention? I did a bit of research to see if I could find an origin; not much luck. It almost sounds like a currency of courtesy. Let’s say one of your grandchildren is going into deep detail about how she solved the Wordle puzzle in three guesses and why it took you six. Out of respect for this grandchild, and her uncanny ability to solve word puzzles, you pay her with respect by giving her your attention. [This is the grandchild who can’t watch “Wheel of Fortune” without losing her mind, yelling the puzzle answer at the TV while questioning the intelligence of the players, “These people are adults! How can they not see the answer?!”]

Grandkids want even more than our full and undivided attention. I use an email address from time to time that is a line I've heard often from them: hey.pops.hey@gmail.com. If someone sends me an email using that address, I can't help but pay attention.

Attention-paying is obviously a trait we want to develop in our young. It’s essential to civil discourse which is drying up and blowing away in our current culture. There’s a risk though. What parent hasn’t had one of those experiences where you discover that your child WAS paying attention when it might have been better if they weren’t. Here’s one of my favorite anecdotes:

True story. Dear friends of ours told me this story about an event at their church. This is one of those churches where a brave pastor calls the little children to the front of the church for a “children’s sermon”. One Sunday morning the pastor welcomed the kids. A little girl asked the pastor what he thought of her new dress. “It’s lovely!” he said. And, she replied, “Thank you. My Mom says it’s a real bitch to iron.”

If you’re a pastor, PAY ATTENTION. What she was saying is, “Please study hard, make every word of your sermon count, don’t waste our time. We’ve made effort and sacrifices to be here.” At least that’s my interpretation; sometimes paying attention allows us to read between the lines.

Paying attention seems grueling sometimes. Now we’re supposed to “pay attention to our bodies”, we’re supposed to stay “weather-aware”, we’re supposed to be vigilant of scammers and scoundrels. Look both ways before you cross the street. There are parking bumpers hiding in the cold, wet, wintry night. Pay attention or you could trip over one and be left wondering if your ribs will ever be the same again.

It’s tiring and it seems so inner-focused. Maybe that’s why it’s so difficult to pay attention to those around us, we’ve nothing left to pay. Our attention capacity is at a deficit or overdrawn. How about us? Is anyone paying attention to us?

I’ve decided it’s impossible to bankrupt your attention capacity because paying attention can be energizing, fulfilling, even life-giving. Let me offer a few examples: I have friends who are amazing photographers, technically and aesthetically. It is like their visual radar is on all the time. They see lighting, perspective, subtility, color, depth of field, composition in a way us mere-mortals don’t. It’s the same with musicians and poets. They hear melodies, harmonies, and feel rhythms. They understand life in moods, modes, points and counterpoints.

As a hobby-writer I have discovered I pay attention more, and deeper when I'm in a writing groove. I'm always questioning: what's behind that, why is it, when, where, ifs, ands, and buts. Discovery is so exhilarating and it happens when we're paying attention.

“If a work of art is rich and vital and complete, those who have artistic instincts will see its beauty, and those to whom ethics appeal more strongly than aesthetics will see its moral lesson. It will fill the cowardly with terror, and the unclean will see in it their own shame.” — Oscar Wilde

Our Grand-Girl, Nora, is an attention-payer. Not only does she listen with the curiousity of an old woman sitting under the hair dryer at the beauty shoppe, she will stare a hole, picking up quirky body language, nuance and stuff.

NORA. PAYING INTENSE ATTENTION.

There's a coffee house in our town that Nora and I visit from time to time. One day we were sitting enjoying coffee and hot cocoa. She carried her mug to a sofa in the corner and sat, looking, studying. Then she moved to the window seat and tried it out. Then she moved to a table toward the back where students were sitting with laptops open, staring at their phones.

Finally, she returned to our table and offered this:

"I really like the aestetics of this place. Karlee (her oldest sister, the one with her own bedroom), has good aestetics. Harper (her next oldest sister, with whom she shares a bedroom), thinks that when Karlee goes to college she's going to get her bedroom. I told her that when Karlee goes to college she's going to pack up all of her aestetics and take them with her."

I didn't say anything. I just paid attention. That's what she wanted: my attention, not an opinion or comment, just attention.

These days you might hear a certain song playing. I'm not talking about that Mariah Carey song. We're likely to hear that one several times a day. The one I'm talking about says, "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing".

Hark is a word that means pay attention. This song is about a story, recorded in Luke chapter 2 of the Bible:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

On earth peace and good will. Yes, please. In the midst of the season, the busy-ness, the chaos. I need to remind myself to pay attention. Friday we went to Hinton to watch three of the Grands in the school Christmas program. I paid attention and it was beautiful. After the program, Haddi, the oldest Grand-Girl of our Hinton crew wanted to show me what she's been making. (She is an amazing maker.) She showed me a box of little snowpeople she's made from socks she stuffs with rice. The picture above is two of her collection. She explained how she makes them and her marketing strategies. I paid attention and was so proud of her.

My Christmas wish for and yours: go out there and do some harking!

WAX ON; WAX OFF

This is not political, it's not personal. I hope it's practical, and if it's prophetic; so be it.

Remember when The Beach Boys gave us this:

When some loud braggart tries to put me down
And says his school is great
I tell him right away
"Now what's the matter buddy
Ain't you heard of my school
It's number one in the state"
So be true to your school now
Just like you would to your girl or guy
Be true to your school now
And let your colors fly
Be true to your school

My personal experience with loud braggarts was to give them my lunch money and hope for the best. I'm still haunted by the memory of a couple of bullies at Jenks Elementary School.

This time I'm taking them on.

We had the privilege of being a part of a small community for many years. Our boys grew up there and now some of our grandkids are too. We are so happy for them and for an on-going connection there.

There is a greek word that you might hear at church. It's koinonia. It means fellowship, community, communion. In some communities it is palpable. I hope you've experienced it. It is a beautiful thing and we will miss it as church attendance wains and our lives become more separated and segregated. As our communication happens in text messages and "social" media, our human connections will weaken.

There is a place of community in towns, and neighborhoods that has been and can still be a place where ties are bound, where you can "let your colors fly." It is our public schools. Think I'm exaggerating? Watch what happens to a town when its school and churches close. The local public school is often the hub, the cultural catalyst, the pulse.

There are those in the political races right now who would say I am misguided and ignorant, accusing me of using scare tactics to sway voters. They would be wrong: I don't have that kind of influence. But, my message is true and urgent. Our public schools are essential to our culture, to our communities, to our koinonia. There is an attack on our public schools that is wrapped in false virtue, high-mindedness, and an arrogant claim to know deep spiritual truths. They believe that our teachers and local education leaders are too stupid or driven by an evil agenda to the point where THEY need to step in and take control. They want us to believe that public education is subpar and fraught with immorality and therefore a danger. Their solution: take public money and give it to unaccountable institutions under the guise of "parental choice".

Hold on. I'm not anti- private schools, christian schools or home schools. I have dear friends who have chosen one of these options for their kids for a variety of reasons. It's their choice, and it has been the best one. I also know of kids who have come from church schools and home schools who have been cheated of proper educational opportunities. I know that can also happen in public schools. This, though, is about state government meddling in local affairs and diverting public money.

Our kids, our grandkids, our communities and towns need our schools--our public schools. We need the school carnivals, the bake sales, the school plays, the band and choir, we need Friday night football and Monday afternoon softball. We need the lifeblood of education and socialization. We need the job opportunities for aspiring teachers. We need the gifted people who teach and lead in our schools to also teach and lead in our communities.

OUR OLDEST GRAND-GIRL, KARLEE, BEING TRUE TO HER SCHOOL

I'm not naive, or a fear-monger, and I'm not going to be bullied by Ryan Walters' doomsday message for public education. His platform in the run for State Superintendent is built from scare tactics. He's afraid our kids will read "The Outsiders" or "To Kill A Mockingbird". I'M AFRAID THEY WON'T!

He loves to talk about “critical race theory.” My guess is he couldn't explain it if he had to. It's just a trigger for him to use in speeches to fire up people who don't understand it and won't take the time to. And, there's his threat that if you don't elect him there will be a "boy" trying to play on your daughter's soccer team. If we go down this crazy path that the likes of Walters are blazing, our daughters won't have a soccer team to play on. He and his ilk love to talk about "woke". He doesn't understand that either. It is time to wake up.

He reminds me of those revivalists that used to travel from church to church with sermons meant to scare the hell out of kids. As the old saying goes: their message held kids over hell like a wiener on a stick. Don't let Ryan do that. I'm sure he's a nice young man; as I said, this isn't personal. I know he has an (R) after his name. I know he's endorsed by the governor and beholden to him. He's hoping to ride that R and that relationship into a position he's not prepared for, and for which he has a wrongheaded vision and questionable business practices.* As I said this isn't political it's practical.

I worked in youth ministry longer than Walters has been alive. I can tell you in no uncertain terms that kids are much smarter and more resilient than we credit them for. Let's focus on strengthening families, giving teachers the support and resources they need to offer the best and bring out the best. Let's work as communities to sustain the values that have served us.

BE TRUE TO YOUR SCHOOL!

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*From Wikipedia: On May 2, 2022, The Frontier and Oklahoma Watch reported on a United States Department of Education report which found the “Bridge the Gap” program Walters oversaw was implemented with few safeguards to prevent fraud or abuse and that federal auditors were investigating the distribution of COVID-19 relief money through the program.

On May 11, Oklahoma House of Representatives Democrats called on Governor Stitt to call for Walters resignation. The Governor's office responded "Secretary Walters is doing a great job fighting for parents’ right to be in charge of their child’s education and advocating for funding students, not government-controlled systems.” (In other words, according to Stitt: local school boards can't be trusted.)

Later in May, Oklahoma newspapers reported that while working as Secretary of Education, Walters remained Executive Director of “Every Kid Counts Oklahoma,” an Oklahoma education non-profit. Walters was paid approximately $120,000 a year by “Every Kid Counts Oklahoma” compared to his state salary of $40,000. The Frontier and Oklahoma Watch reported that “Every Kid Counts Oklahoma” was funded by national school privatization advocates and charter school expansion advocates, such as the Walton Family Foundation and another group founded by Charles Koch. (In other words, Walters serves at the behest of special interest groups rather than in the best interests of our schools and communities.)

The parentheticals are mine. --Pops.