THE BEAST AND BEAUTY

SOMETHING GOOD WAS HAPPENING.
Then, there was an interruption, and it stopped.

A really interesting conversation was going on.
A louder, more agressive voice entered the room and it stopped.

A group of kids was having big fun making up a game of make-believe,
Until someone carrying some weight of authority said, “You’re doing it wrong.” It stopped.

I remember it well, a jazz band rehersal, the director was called out for an important phone call. He looked to the first trombone player. “Mr. Vernon. Take over.” Mr. Vernon was a high school kid like the rest of us but with a maturity and discipline that earned him a high level of regard and respect. He did take over. He lead one of the most influential sessions of jazz band I can ever remember and we never played a note.

When the director returned, he said, “Mr. Vernon, I thought I could count on you. I hand you the baton and you do nothing,” a presumption based on the fact that he couldn’t hear us playing from his office. I’m pretty sure though when he started us “from the top” after returning to the rehersal, he heard a quality of sound from us that he hadn’t heard before.

Sometimes things happen quietly, creatively, beautifully, but they get covered up by the loudest, brashest, heaviest presence.

I work for a humble CEO. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s true. He encourages leadership development. He’s not afraid to delegate even important leadership to others. Still; if a meeting is going on and there is good discussion with involvement from most everyone in the group, as soon as he walks in the room, it slows if not stops. It’s not because he’s overbearing or authoritarian. It just comes with the position. That’s just the way it is sometimes.

Other times though, people and ideas and creative processes and even humanity gets pushed to the margins by the loud, the arrogant, the jerk, the bully. And, the bully isn’t always a person.

In the spirit of If You Have Something To Say; Say It, for this little essay, I’m calling out a few bullies.

The first is politics. Don’t worry I’m not going to pick on your favorite candidate or politician. I’m talking about Politics en masse as the whole beast. There are so many wonderful things happening in our world right now—people are making a difference in wonderful ways, some are not seeking to alienate others, some are doing unto others as they would have others do to them. Scientists are working at an amazing pace to solve problems. Artists of all sorts are contributing in new ways. For example, here’s a link to a video of Bill Frisell (my favorite jazz guitarist) and his trio playing one of my favorite songs* on the streets of Brooklyn.

People are still trying, hanging in there, teaching and parenting and giving care, finding hope and being human—that’s what human beings do. But so much of it just STOPS; because the bully has entered the room, sucking all the air and energy and life out of it. Why have we let Politics get so big and slimy and pervasive that it blinds and darkens until we don’t even see our real selves anymore. Maybe it’s that we have placed our hope in Politics and politicans. Politics and politicians can not Make America Great Again—not him, not any of them. Politics can’t even make democracy great. It is a necessary evil. It cannot do what only SERVICE can do.

While I’m rolling, I’m calling out fundamentalist religion too as an out-sized force. For “christians” it’s almost as if Jesus never existed. It’s almost like he didn’t say, “If you’ve seen me you’ve seen the Father.” Because the Imago Dei has been distorted beyond recogntion.

Contrast the persona of those who loudly proclaim themselves to be the manifestation of “evangelicalism” by virture of their political alignment with this (Philippians 2:2-8 The Message):

Do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand.

Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human!

Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that: a crucifixion.

Religion can not do what only humble SERVICE can.

In case you’re wondering what happened under Mr. Vernon’s brief time with the baton as our classmate and leader that made it so effective, he started off with this, “Louis Armstrong said it best: “Jazz is music from the heart.” Then he said let’s talk about the contrasts between how we feel when we play jazz, when we’re with the entire band, marching in a parade, or when we’re playing the fight song just before the kick off a big game, or when we’re playing in the orchestra. If we approach all music the same, we’re doing it wrong. He was right. It changed the direction of that rehersal and made us a better jazz band.

Our director was a fine musician and educator. His style would have never allowed 15 minutes of a rehersal to be devoted to discussing how it feels to play music from the heart.

What if we could do something—not from political affiliation, religious dogma, suspicion of others, conspiracies, mistrust and hate, but from the heart? It’s happening you know!? We just can’t see it or hear or feel it because of; well, you know.

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In My Life
The Beatles

There are places I'll remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone, and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends,
I still can recall
Some are dead, and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I'll love you more
In my life I'll love you more

TRY AGAIN LATER

TRUST ME. The last thing I want to do is use my father and his service to this country to make a political point. This is NOT about that. This is about people, real live humans, good people who have given without asking anything in return.

Here’s the story: my dad served in the Army in World War II. His last assignment during the war was in Belgium. As a veteran he has received some assistance from the VA over the last few years: like medications and hearing aids.

There is a benefit for veterans who fought in foreign wars called the “Aid and Attendance” benefit. For years, Dad has checked many of the boxes to qualify: WW2 vet in the European theatre, and he is legally blind. He has not been able to qualify though because he and mom planned carefully for their retirement and paid premiums for years for long term health care insurance. Now at ages 94 and 91, Dad and Mom have outlived their insurance coverage, which means they should be able to qualify for the veterans benefit because of the reduced income.

Five months ago we started the application process which we were told could take six to eight weeks. We were told that the benefit would certainly start as early as Thanksgiving. It didn’t. (I guess, to be fair, they didn’t say which Thanksgiving.) We contacted Senator James Lankford’s office for help. They checked and said the application is pending—waiting on verification of his military service, which is odd since he has received VA benefits as I mentioned above. Also, we included copies of his discharge papers with the application.

Then my niece, my dad’s Grand-Girl, Ashley, discovered that there is a website where ostensibly you can create a log-in to monitor the progress of the application.

So she navigated the convulated path to entering the monitoring website. Now when we check to see if the application is moving forward we get this message:

Did I mention my dad is 94 years old?

Did I mention he is a veteran of World War II?

Did I mention I have never in my life heard
my dad even hint that he might be “entitled” to anything?

I don’t know for certain that the current government shut down is impacting the progress of my dad’s application, but government shut down or no, I can’t escape the feeling that our government is deeply damaged, that it is full of self-serving, arrogant bureaucrats, who are out of touch and out of control.

Is it hopeless? If we’re talking about my dad’s application for a benefit he qualifies for, deserves and (here I’ll say it) is entitled to, I sure hope not. If we’re talking about the bigger issue of governance in America—let me say this, I’m ready to let Trump have his damn wall to put an end to this latest chapter of disgusting nonsense.

Trying to stay positive here, one upside to “the wall” might be that once it is built we can all go there to bang our heads against the north face of it.

Understand; this is me talking, not my dad. I didn’t even ask his permission (which has gotten me in trouble more than once). My dad, and my mom, are of the Greatest Generation. They are beautiful people who trust in the Providence of God.

Me? You would think with parents like these I would have a better attitude. Maybe when I grow up.

Here is a picture of Dad a few years ago at the World War II memorial in Washington D.C. He is with my brother-in-law, Fred, a Vietnam era Marine who served three tours of duty in the Middle East; and his son Joe, currently in the U.S. Navy.

(You know, I can’t help but wonder if the current POTUS has even strolled through this memorial, or the Korean War Memorial, or the Vietnam Memorial and read the inscriptions there. Oh wait, I forgot about his pesky bone spurs.) (Sorry. I was raised better.)

In case you can’t read the words on the wall behind them, the inscription reads:

D-DAY JUNE 6, 1944

You are about to embark upon the
Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these
many months. The eyes of the world are upon you.
I have full confidence in your courage
and devotion to duty and skill in battle.

—General Dwight D. Eisenhower

At The Table

TRYING NOT TO SOUND TOO… pitiful, sour-grape-ish, sore-loser-ish…

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, pilgrim. We’ll have the blessing to sit at a couple of different Thanksgiving feasts over that weekend.

I am hoping everyone has safe travels.

I hope everyone has something good to eat.

I hope everyone has someone to be with.

I hope everyone around our table knows how much I love them and how thankful I am to be in their tribe.

I hope Ginger brings coleslaw. I hope to have a piece of pecan pie. I hope I don’t hurt someone’s feelings by not eating their sweet potato dish (even though it is covered with some marshmallow looking something). I hope they’ll understand that I don't like Jell-O that has stuff suspended in it. I like them, I like that they cared enough to bring something to the table, it’s just the idea of putting stuff in Jell-O. It’s like putting turkey organs in the dressing or the gravy. It’s just not necessary.

Another thing I hope won’t be at our Thanksgiving table: politics—red ones or blue ones, first ammendment or second, donkeys or elephants. I’m done. As I said at the top, I’m trying not to sound too… pitiful, sour-grapish, sore-loserish… I’m just done.

Not too far into our new marriage, we were at the Thanksgiving table at my Amazing Missus’ parent’s house. The food at that table was always wonderful and abundant. (Except for some strange tradition of putting oysters in the dressing.) [Apparently, I have an aversion to people putting stuff in other stuff that God never intended to go together.]

Anyway, we’re all seated, the blessing was said, and before we knew it, the conversation turned to A.I. This was the mid-70s and we were talking about A.I.?

Let me clarify: this was not conversation about the merits, threats, or potentials of Artifical Intelligence. This was a graphic dialog about Artificial Insemination. You see, I literally married the “farmer’s daughter”. The family had a long, successful history in the dairy farming business. As a city-boy of sorts, I don’t guess I had given much thought to the reproductive arts down on the farm.

A few seconds into the discussion, my Amazing-Mother-In-Law said, “That’s enough of that!” She spoke with a humble authority that everyone heard without any confusion or uncertainty. And, just like that; the conversation changed.

Oh how I hope that if politics comes up in discussion, someone with the moral certainty and authority, the clear-headedness, and the clear-heartedness of my late Amazing-Mother-In-Law will say, “That’s enough of that!”

The Will of the People

HAVE YOU NOTICED how many TV news interviews with politicians take place in front of the statue of Will Rogers in the Capitol building?

statue of will rogers in the national statuary hall at the capitol building

I’m glad this is the interview spot of choice. I wish that at the end of the interview each interviewee would look up at Will and ask themselves what Will must be thinking about what they just said.

For those that don’t know of Will Rogers, here are a few quotes from him on the topic of politics:

This country has gotten where it is in spite of politics, not by the aid of it. That we have carried as much political bunk as we have and still survived shows we are a super nation.

Congress is so strange; a man gets up to speak and says nothing, nobody listens, and then everybody disagrees.

Never blame a legislative body for not doing something. When they do nothing, they don't hurt anybody. When they do something is when they become dangerous.

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I wish the POTUS would have been sitting under Will’s don’t-BS-me-gaze when he read that prepared statement trying to explain his crush on Vlad Putin.

Remember how Mr. Trump explained to us how easy it is to get confused when you have to choose between “would” and “wouldn’t”?

Here’s one for you to ponder Mr. POTUS, regarding your speech,
What WOULD Will say?
What WOULDN’T Will say?

Maybe this (an actual quote from Will himself): "No man is great if he thinks he is."

Or this: “America has the best politicians money can buy."

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By the way, if you wondered why the shoes of Will’s statue are polished smooth, tradition says rubbing Will’s shoes brings good luck. There must be a lot of superstitious folks in the U.S. Capitol

What would Will say?

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"Erected in 1939, this statue of Will Rogers represents the state of Oklahoma in the National Statuary Hall in the Capitol Building."  —The White House Historical Association

I hope that persona of Will, hands in pockets, a knowing grin, and a no BS look still represents Oklahoma. May we be the people who can see through the piles and piles of the stuff and find people of integrity, humility and character.