PARDON ME

SOMETIMES we get what we don't deserve. Sometimes we don't get what we deserve. We all do. Me, you, Hunter Biden, Donald Trump, all of us in varying degrees and means. I have a few thoughts on "pardons".

Let's start here. I'm a son and I'm a father. I'm using those credentials to have an opinion. Although I've never been president of anything, much less the U.S. of A., that hasn't stopped me from opinionating.

Should Joe Biden as president have pardoned a guy named Hunter Biden? No. (in my humble opinion). Should the president even have the power of pardons. Again, IMHO, no. If our political leaders were of sound character, humility and in possession of a strong, solid sense of accountability, then maybe: Yes. But...

Should Joe Biden as father to Hunter have offered a pardon. Yes. And I really believe that is what is behind this. As the father of two sons I would do anything and everything I could for them. Let's take an empathetic look. Joe had three children with his first wife--a girl and two boys. Tragically, a car accident took the life of his wife and daughter. Though badly injured the boys survived. Joe was not in the car. As a young adult, Beau died from brain cancer. Of the three, only Hunter is living today. Does the fact that Joe has lived with years of heartache give him a license to go overboard for the remaining son? For whatever reasons, Hunter has made a of mess of his life. Should he get what he deserves? Of course.

As a son growing up in the home of a grace-full father I received multiple pardons. Not the presidential ones of course, but the even better ones--the ones given from the unconditional love of a father. Were there consequences for my actions? Indeed there were. The father-pardon didn't remove the punishment. Like that time I was part of an organized crime ring in seventh grade. A plan had been hatched to steal pop from the Pepsi delivery truck at the grocery store during lunch break at school. Even though I was only an accessory to the crime I got swats at school, swats at home, and was forced to surrender my allowance for several weeks to pay back the Pepsi corporation for the stolen soda pop.

Maybe Joe could have said to Hunter, "Son, as your father I believe in you and I forgive you. But I will not as president use the power of a pardon as preferential treatment to serve my own good; even though my predecessor/successor has and will, time and time again."

Hunter should have told his dad upon hearing of his consideration of giving a presidential pardon, "Dad you've done enough for me. Your forgiveness is sufficient. Your belief in finding a seed of goodness still within me is enough. Don't bring the fire of criticism down on yourself for me. As my dad you're already giving me what I don't deserve."

It's that season again. The one where we celebrate the ultimate giver of pardons, where we remember the one who got what He didn't deserve so that we might have what we don't deserve.

And the WORD became flesh and lived among us.
— The Gospel of John


ON VOTING

OPINIONS ARE LIKE BELLY BUTTONS--everyone has one. [With the exceptions of Adam and maybe Eve whose pre-birth states didn't need an umbilical cord as far as I know.]

I'm assuming you chose freely to visit this page and read these words for what they might be worth. This is just a statement of my opinion and perspective. It might bear little to no resemblence to your own. That's okay with me and I hope it is with you.

If you're ready to continue: here we go.

I live in Oklahoma, a very "red" state politically speaking, and from one report I read, ranks 49th out of the 50 U.S. states in turnout of registered voters. Arkansas being the worst in this category.

Why? I don't know. Based on conversations I've had with folks about this imminent election, here are a couple of possibilities:

1. I'm not voting because I don't like either candidate.

2. Why vote in Oklahoma? We all know the republicans are going to win.

I wish every registered voter would vote. My thoughts:

a.) It is such a privilege. It's the only way we have an opportunity to weigh in on those who govern and how we are governed. Even if our candidate has a snowball's chance in Oklahoma in July, we still have siezed our right to have a say.

b.) You get to do whatever you want in that voting booth and no one will know. You can be a bit rebellious and transgressive. In our voting place we get to hide away in a sort of cardboard box, fill in the square by the name of anyone our heart and mind and spirit and conscience leads us to, and it's nobody's business.

c.) You get that little "I Voted" sticker, and maybe, if you want to, in a few months or so, you can say, "Don't blame me! I didn't vote for that fool!"

Now, despite the wonderfully secretive nature of voting listed as letter "b" above, I'm going to reveal the name of the candidate I will NOT be voting for (and thus making public the candidate I've chosen.) But first...

IF YOU COULD SEE INSIDE MY HEART AND SOUL you would hopefully find ZERO desire to get all political in a divisive, antagonistic way. The last thing I want to do is hurt or rile up, or, God please forbid: alienate.

Taking that risk, I feel like I need to write down my concerns and convictions, for some kind of record, in the unlikely chance that my grandkids or great grandkids might someday wonder where old Pops stood on the state of things in the diminishing days of 2024.

I've written some of this stuff in private journals. And, back when I was more stupid and cocky (around 2016ish) I made the occasional, regretful social media post--enough to have learned to avoid that path as if it was strewn with snakes, ticks, poisin vines, hidden pits and conspiracy theorists. Apparently I'm a slow learner.

My political leanings haven't changed much over the years. At times my zeal has run hotter and deeper but for the most part I've always found myself left of most of my family, friends and coworkers. Not bragging or regretting. Just saying.

I think my philosophies/worldview were shaped early. Literally, from infancy, the Jesus I was taught to know and love, to seek and to follow, was one who always sought to humanize others, one who paid attention to those whose stories weren't necessarily in the main body of the narrative but out in the margins. When he was introduced as the Prince of Peace, I took that literally. When I memorized the words, "For God SO loved The World that He gave..." I came to understand the breadth, the intensity, and eternity of that love. Certainly, with any "rebelliousness" that may have been a part of my first coming-of-age, I hope I was trying to "work out my salvation with fear and trembling." (Philippians 2:12). Still am. I didn't find peaceful protests, questioning authorities, suspicion of institutions and all that to be incongruent with Christ-following: just the opposite in fact. Still do.

Best I remember, there were a few significant worldview shaping events for me during that time. Here's a timeline:

  • January 8, 1969: My 18th birthday. Registered with the Selective Service System: received my "draft card".

  • January 20, 1969: Marched in the Inaugural Parade of Richard Nixon in Washington D.C. Saw behind the scenes the rage and animosity for him and the Vietnam war.

  • May 1969: Graduated from Will Rogers High School in Tulsa.

  • Fall 1969: Began classes at Oklahoma Baptist University in Shawnee. I majored in music to get a scholarship but my heart was in journalism and socio-political science.

  • October 15, 1969: "Nationwide Moratorium to End The War in Vietnam". Helped to organize our campus' participation in the massiave demonstration, which included a rally and the wearing of black arm bands. It was a big deal to us then.

  • May 4, 1970: Kent State University murders. Four students were killed by Ohio National Guardsmen. Participated in a night of mourning for those students with an overnight demonstration on the campus oval.

  • Summer of 1970: I spent a good chunk of the summer traveling across Europe, playing drums in a band. An eye-opening, mind-blowing summer for sure.

  • Fall 1970: Transferred to Tulsa University majoring in journalism. Became more politically active, seeking to find a way to do something besides protest the war. I was particularly interested alternatives to Richard Nixon and changing the voting age from 21 to 18. Both of these were anti-war positions. The rationale: many young men were too young to vote but were subject to the draft and forced to fight in the war. Without a vote there was no way to influence the people sending them off to risk their lives. Posters and chants in protest events declared, "Old enough to fight, old enough to vote!"

  • July 1, 1970: A Lottery was held for men facing the draft in 1971. This determined the order in which men born in 1951 were called to report for induction into the military. My birthdate was Number 116.

  • June 30, 1971: The 26th Amendment was finally ratified changing the minimum voting age to 18, the same age that young men were required to register for the draft. I would now be able to actually vote for the candidates I had been campaigning for, including George McGovern, who despite my vote and campaigning lost in a landslide to the very crooked Richard Nixon.

  • Winter 1971: I received notice to report to the draft board for processing and a physical. My number had come up. My enmity for Nixon and power-greedy politicans boiled and I veered further left. Fortunately, the war became more and more unpopular and started winding down. That bus trip from Tulsa to Oklahoma City for a physical was as close as I would get to Vietnam.

  • Early 1972: Let's put it this way. My passions were evolving. I had become involved in the "Jesus Movement", a sort of hippie version of discipleship. I was the drummer in a band playing a new genre of music called Christian Rock; some would say an oxymoron. But what had really grabbed my heart was a young lady who is, fifty-two years later, still My Amazing Missus.

So here we are now, the autumn of 2024, and I want to, for some unknown reason, be on record with my voting intentions. This would be a good time to click back to Facebook or to solving a Wordle puzzle, if you haven't gotten bored and done so already.

I will not vote for Donald Trump.

Here's a condensed version of my rationale. He's old. Actually older than Bill Clinton, but a little younger than Jimmy Carter. He's clearly unhinged. He's clearly overweight. As an old (but younger than him) and chunky guy myself, I know a thing or two.

My main motivation for not voting for him though is that he is a despicable person and the antithesis of what I know to be a good leader. My career has afforded me opportunities to hear from some of the best experts in leadership: Ken Blanchard, John Maxwell, Seth Godin, Jack Welch, Daniel Goleman, Stephen R. Covey, Patrick Lencioni, Daniel H. Pink, Marcus Buckingham, Susan Cain, and Jim Collins, just to mention a few. I've read countless books on the subject. It all boils down to a few traits that are common in our ideal of good leadership: Accountability, Empathy, Authenticity, Focus and Vision, Positivity, Stability, The Ability to Build Strong Teams, etc. Trump exemplifies none of these. Consider the elements of Emotional Intelligence in the writings of Daniel Goleman:

Self-awareness – the ability to know one's emotions, strengths, weaknesses, drives, values, and goals and recognize their impact on others while using gut feelings to guide decisions.

Self-regulation – involves controlling or redirecting one's disruptive emotions and impulses and adapting to changing circumstances.

Social skill – managing relationships to get along with others.

Empathy – considering other people's feelings especially when making decisions.

Motivation – being aware of what motivates them.

Trumps obvious traits are selfishness, narcissim, hate, misogyny, racism, lack of respect for marriage and family, no regard for the sanctity of human life, he makes a mockery of faith; from his own mouth, Trump: "Why do I have to repent or ask for forgiveness if I am not making mistakes?"

Lastly, he's a man who calls himself a "very, stable genius," but is so self-unaware. Like the old line goes, he could commit suicide by leaping from his ego to his I.Q.

So many let him off the hook: "That's just the way he is." "He doesn't mean a lot of what he says." "He just says out loud what a lot of us are thinking."

Here's my fear. If we make someone like Trump our leader, then others believe that his becomes the model of strong, effective leadership. Why would we hold up the worst among us as an example of leadership, much less humanity?

The counterpoint is usually:

  • "He's the lessor or two evils." To which I mumble to myself, "He's his own brand of evil."

  • I don't like him, but I like his policies.” Surely we can find ways to impact policies AND maintain some semblence of civility, patriotism and democracy.

Let's listen to those who were "in the room(s) where it happened," those who were up close and personal to Trump. Mike Pence his own VP, who is not supporting him. All of the key leaders in his first term have endorsed his opponent, not because they agree with her on every policy point, but for the good of our country.

The last word comes from Liz Cheney: “If people are uncertain, if people are thinking, ‘Well, you know, I’m a conservative, I don’t know that I can support Vice President Harris,’ I would say, ‘I don’t know if anybody is more conservative than I am,’ I understand the most conservative value there is: to defend the Constitution.”

TO HAVE & TO HOLD

June 16th. Our day. That was the day the knot was tied, the vows were said, the cake was eaten. The day it all started was actually weeks and months before that. I don't remember it being an actual moment; more like an unfolding. We didn't shake a Magic 8 Ball. There was no Rock, Paper, Scissors, or coins tossed. There was a bit of ignorant bliss, romance, naivette, hormones, young love and belief that this was a match made in heaven. At least that's the way I remember it.

We didn't use the traditional vows in our marriage ceremony. We wrote our own and they definitely had an early 70s zeitgeist of peace and love to them, but they were sincere and have stood the test of time.

When I speak of traditional vows I'm talking about those that go something like this:

I, ____, take you, ____, to be my husband/wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

First, we didn't even know what "to have" and "to hold" meant. Next, we were kids. We were invulnerable to stuff like worse, poorer, and sickness much less death. Why bring all that crap into the celebration?

As I think about this anniversary of our wedding, I'm 52 years older and I still am not sure I understand what have and hold mean. I could guess; and I will before the essay is finished. All these years later I don't know that I would want those words in our vows if we were to do one of those vow-renewal things. That sounds so possession-y, like some kind of claim of ownership. Like maybe: "I promise TO HAVE control over you and TO HOLD you back from being your own person" or something.

I think my attitude has been marred by all the focus on that twisted theology that religious fundamentalists call "complementarianism". I would love to write about how I feel about it but I'm not going to let it be a dark cloud over my intent of writing a heartfelt sentiment about how blest out of my heart, head and soul I am to have been married to My Amazing Missus for more than half a century.

So, here's how I'm viewing and understanding having and holding. Let's start with the dark side of having/holding.

Remember poor old Peter? The guy that was known for eating a lot of pumpkin; so much in fact that he has been known for eons as Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater?

He had a relationship problem. Or, was his problem a wayward woman, or maybe he had signed up for a doctrine that somehow believes that wives are subordinate to husbands. The question that other men seeking submissive wives might have is: how in the world did he get her into that pumpkin shell and in what state was she in that he was able to keep her there "very well"?

Sometimes seeking to have and hold turns into an ugly form of possesion--dehumanizing another to the point that they exist only for the other's use: like a commodity.

Let me illustate with the this little excerpt from a newspaper article:

The drab free port zone near the Geneva city center, a compound of blocky gray and vanilla warehouses surrounded by train tracks, roads and a barbed-wire fence, looks like the kind of place where beauty goes to die. But within its walls, crated or sealed cheek by jowl in cramped storage vaults, are more than a million of some of the most exquisite artworks ever made. --New York Times.

I realize that it seems like I'm using an inanimate object: art, to try to make my point about being fully human, created in the image of The Creator. But think of it as representing something bigger. Let's call it "beauty". Somethings are just not meant to be KEPT. Having and holding are so much more than that.

Let me try it this way. If you are a parent or a grandparent, or maybe an aunt or an uncle, this next sentence will cause a burst of images and memories, joys and maybe a few sorrows, but sublime all the same. Ready?

We HAVE a new baby and I got to HOLD him.

Can you feel the honor in that? The joy? The desire to share the news.

Here is a picture of My Amazing Missus and me. It is moments after the birth of Jeremiah our youngest Grand. We are crammed in the window seat of the hospital in Enid, Oklahoma, with all of the other Grands, taken January 19, 2022 at 2:11p.

Had he been born a few weeks later the hospital would have been locked down because of the pandemic. Selfishly, I cannot fathom what it would have cost me emotionally to not be able to be there for that moment--that first moment of HAVEing a new grandson and HOLDing him.

That's what it means to me to have and to hold. Obviously I didn't HAVE him. His beautiful mom Brooke did all that work with steady support from his dad, Kyle. And, obviously HOLDing is more than physical, literal holding.

If I haven't made my point yet, then I'm a lousy point maker. It's just that if I were to tell my bride of 50-something years that I am committed to having and holding, I would want her to know it is all about cherishing and celebrating and sharing.

I understand the concept of one thing complementing another. I'm intimately familiar with peanut butter and jelly. But, in a true complementary relationship one thing is not subjugated to the other. That is an ugly distortion, and it is one that I'm vulnerable to. In fact, I've done that kind of crap to others. Hopefully I've haven’t justified it by being a christian, a male, old, white, democrat, introvert, bald, cynical, peanut butter & jelly loving jerk.

Happy Anniversary to My Amazing Missus. Like the old song says, "I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow." I'm still here; to have and to hold from this day forward.

SHOOT LIKE A GIRL

I NEED TO WRITE THIS NOW while things are good. The OKC Thunder won the NBA Western Conference regular-season crown, the youngest team to do so, then went on to sweep the New Orleans Pelicans in four games.

The last game was close all the way. At one point one of the Thunder players shot a long, long three-point attempt, and the clock wasn't even running out. I shouted at him through the TV, "Who do you think you are? Caitlin Clark?!"

Maybe it's just me, but I feel like since the women's NCAA tournament, men, both college and pro, have been attempting shots from farther out, almost like there's a subliminal dare to try to do what the girls are doing.

I like boys. I really do. I have two sons and two one-of-a-kind grandsons. I like watching the NBA, the NFL, the NHL, and MLB. But I really like watching women's sports like college softball and basketball. There's just a certain finesse and smartness to their games that make them fascinating and compelling.

My college journey started at Oklahoma Baptist University in Shawnee, Oklahoma, in the Fall of 1969. After my freshman year there, (surely we're past the statute of limitations) I transferred to Tulsa University. I wouldn't have imagined at the time that five decades later I would somehow end up living in Shawnee, but here we are.

Although I was at OBU for only two semesters, the experiences there were varied and significant, stong enough to create memories that percolate up when I'm on the campus these days.

A lot has changed. For example, while walking on campus one morning I noticed something; there were young women on the track, and on the tennis courts. Hanging on the walls outside the sports complex were huge banners with the pictures of the women's volleyball team and basketball team. Back in the day, there was none of that, except maybe in a casual, "Hey want to play some tennis?" kind of way. At the time I thought nothing of it.

One day I ran across my yearbook for my freshman year. Thumbing and strolling through, I noticed there were photos of men's basketball, baseball, golf , tennis and track and field, but NO women's sports at all. Today, according to sports listed on OBUBison.com, women have more offerings than men: basketball, volleyball, cross country, golf, soccer, track & field, softball, and stunt. I'm not sure what stunt is but I think it has something to do with hurling smaller girls into the air. I may have been on the stunt team back in 69-70. I'm pretty sure I remember the Dean asking, "Just what kind of stunts are you trying to pull here Mr. Fuller?!"

BREAKING NEWS (April 29, 2024): THE OBU STUNT TEAM JUST WON THE 2024 NCAA D2 NATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP.

I should mention that for those who advocate for cheerleading being a sport [and as the proud Pops of a high school "Pommie" count me in that group], there is a picture of the cheerleaders in that old yearbook.

If this blog was about hard-hitting journalism or something written in pursuit of a Pulitzer I would probably do the research to write about the evolution of women's sports at OBU. But a quick read of any of the nonsense I write and post here will quickly reveal this blog is really about fluff and stuff. A quick note: as we're learning there is apparently money to be made in the area of seedy/sleazy "journalism" and something called catch & kill... Let's just say, I'm open to making a little extra cash.

Maybe the paradigm shifted a bit with the passing of Title IX in the summer of 1972. Not sure. Maybe I should do the research. Nevertheless, I'm celebrating the rise of women's sports both at OBU and beyond.

BREAKING NEWS (April 29, 2024): OBU's 4x800 relay squad: Zoee Weaver, Shayna Hendrix, Kaylen King and Mekenzie Connell ran the fastest time (9:01.56) in NCAA Division II this season to win the Drake Relays title in the event.

While progress is obvious in the field and on the courts of women's sports, regress is still too heavy and real in too many areas of our culture and life for women. There is so much more I would like to say, but I'm trying to be civil and constrained until I can find a way to be useful. At this point, my best attempts would be a long shot. What would I do if someone yelled, "Who do you think you are? Caitlin Clark?"