I had a dream the other night that I was crawling through a cave. It was a genuine spelunking experience, with stalagtites and stalagmites, and mud and water dripping.
The thing about it was, I could see where I was going. The whole narrow cave was lit up, as if by a light on a camera. I felt like I was in one of those history channel experiences, you know the ones, where the man intones that he is going to be the "first" to explore this dark, underground place, but we see him enter, so we know that the one who really got there first was the cameraman?
When I woke, I remembered a Monty Python sketch wherein all of the characters realize they are being filmed, and look for the cameraman, find him, then realize they are still being filmed, so search for THAT cameraman, and so on in infinite regress.
"Someone's watching us," Bette Midler sang, but most of our experiences of being watched in this way are more close up than her "from a distance."
Which I learned in another way today from the man who'd come to replace my wind-shredded awning. Like a lot of guys in businesses having to do with roofing, this awning salesman was in recovery, and not shy about saying so. No wonder. He had quite a testimony! (He thanked me for listening, saying not too many other people tolerate his preaching. I told him I knew what he meant!)
He recounted with some bravado some of the life-threatening experiences he had survived-- including three marriages!-- but "survived" wasn't his word. He spoke more of being "brought through," as in guided. "I was being watched," he said.
In addition to his three marriages, which led me to think about my own (we were like "brothers" in a now life-long marriage-recovery program!), one of his adventures was a car accident that nearly took his life. This, too, led me to think of one car accident I'd had. Like him, I'd done a lot while in shock that I wasn't aware of doing at the time. And like him, afterward, I knew I was still alive because I was in a lot of pain. But also like him, I had the experience of being "brought through:" not just watched, as if the Watcher either had no interest in the outcome or couldn't do anything about it anyway; but something more hands on... Involved... The cameraman may be taking the picture but he is also shining the light.
And he's walking backwards, while facing forwards, his eyes on me...
Maybe this is God's singular saving capacity: to be able to walk backwards, with sure steps and bold, yet keep us in sight as we are brought through our peril and led safely home. Amazing Grace!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Go Like 60!
"Tell me one thing that's good about being 60." I'm at my dentist's office, and his assistant has just discovered that we are very nearly the same age. She takes great delight in knowing that I am a few months older than she.
But her question stumps me. She notices my pause, my unusual lack of a quick answer. Any snappy retort I might have spoken has already snapped like the buttons of those who don't eat at Subway. But even the ricochet strikes nothing worth repeating.
"See!" she says, triumphantly. "There's nothing good about being 60!"
Especially for women, I'm thinking, remembering a conversation I'd had recently with a female friend who wanted to set me up with a friend of a friend. "But she's over 60," my would-be yenta lamented. And we went on to talk about how women "change" when they get to 60, how they feel their age in certain sad, fleshly ways. We concurred with the old cliche that men get distinguished, women just get old, and the time for that turning seems to be about the age of 60.
I don't know the truth of any of this, but I'm guessing that my dentist's assistant was thinking something along these lines about herself, and feeling a kind of loss of attractiveness or desirability. I'm guessing that this varies, and I'm sure it is more or less an internal sort of thing. I mean, my dentist's assistant was attractive enough to me that I might have flirted with her if she weren't married. But then, I've been told I flirt a lot, even indiscriminately.
The saying goes that "there's no fool like an old fool," and I'm just now finding out what that means. One of my discoveries on reaching 60 is that, while I've been a fool many, many times before, now I'm having the experience of being an old fool! It's having a curbing effect on my flirting, as if at this ripe age I might finally be learning to be a little more discriminating.
Unfortunately, it just feels like I'm too old to have as much fun as I used to! Now THAT is a sad thought!
Being 60 has led to another kind of vulnerability besides the relational one, and that's the vocational one, the one that connects the significance of one's life to one's accomplishments. Much more than the way my age influences my attractiveness in terms of how other people see me, my age influences my sense of my life's meaningfulness.
(Of course how I am perceived by others is no small thing: just try to get a real job or even health insurance when one is 60 or older! I was told by a health insurance salesman the other day that "60 is the age when everyone starts 'breaking down'." I told him we aren't used cars... But he didn't seem to get the point. Besides, he's got a ways to go before he's 60!)
Anyway, I'm watching this movie the other night, a foreign film that, on the eve of the Oscar's, is being re-released into selected theaters, as foreign films seem to be. I read a wonderful review of it in the paper, and then, lo and behold, discovered it on my cable's pay-per-view! This is the closest thing to an Act of God (at least, a positive one) to happen to me for some time.
The name of the movie is, "The Secret of the Grain." It is French, with English subtitles, and it is about a Tunisian man and his family, so even the French is not what we learned in school, because it is spiced with Arabic like en Provence with turmeric. Point is, the man is 61, and he's just been laid off from a ship yard where he's worked for 35 years.
He's at a certain point in his life that resembles mine in the uncomfortable way that art and life can imitate each other. There was one line in the movie that especially resonated with me, a line that revealed his innermost thoughts. He says, "All this time, and what do I have to leave my children? What do I have to show for my life?" At least, that's a reasonable facsimile of what the line is, and I can't remember whether he actually says, "nothing," or just distinctly implies it.
Either way, what he expresses is what it means to be 60 and male. There truly is this turning in us, from the so-called "power years" of the 50's to the "dis-empowered" ones that begin in the 60's. We go from feeling we are useful to fearing that we are utterly useless to anyone.
Realizing that this turning is occurring can lead to some rather comic/tragic decision making. In the movie, the man decides to invest his severance in transforming a scrapped fishing boat into a restaurant. I decided to invest my retirement in writing. In the movie, the man's decision has some tragic consequences-- but as I was watching it, I kept hoping they were going to turn out comically! I have the same experience in watching my own life: I keep hoping it is going to turn out comically.
In either case, I am learning first hand more about what it means that "there is no fool like an old fool!"
And when I come up with an answer to what is "good" about being 60, I'll let you, and my dentist's assistant, know.
But her question stumps me. She notices my pause, my unusual lack of a quick answer. Any snappy retort I might have spoken has already snapped like the buttons of those who don't eat at Subway. But even the ricochet strikes nothing worth repeating.
"See!" she says, triumphantly. "There's nothing good about being 60!"
Especially for women, I'm thinking, remembering a conversation I'd had recently with a female friend who wanted to set me up with a friend of a friend. "But she's over 60," my would-be yenta lamented. And we went on to talk about how women "change" when they get to 60, how they feel their age in certain sad, fleshly ways. We concurred with the old cliche that men get distinguished, women just get old, and the time for that turning seems to be about the age of 60.
I don't know the truth of any of this, but I'm guessing that my dentist's assistant was thinking something along these lines about herself, and feeling a kind of loss of attractiveness or desirability. I'm guessing that this varies, and I'm sure it is more or less an internal sort of thing. I mean, my dentist's assistant was attractive enough to me that I might have flirted with her if she weren't married. But then, I've been told I flirt a lot, even indiscriminately.
The saying goes that "there's no fool like an old fool," and I'm just now finding out what that means. One of my discoveries on reaching 60 is that, while I've been a fool many, many times before, now I'm having the experience of being an old fool! It's having a curbing effect on my flirting, as if at this ripe age I might finally be learning to be a little more discriminating.
Unfortunately, it just feels like I'm too old to have as much fun as I used to! Now THAT is a sad thought!
Being 60 has led to another kind of vulnerability besides the relational one, and that's the vocational one, the one that connects the significance of one's life to one's accomplishments. Much more than the way my age influences my attractiveness in terms of how other people see me, my age influences my sense of my life's meaningfulness.
(Of course how I am perceived by others is no small thing: just try to get a real job or even health insurance when one is 60 or older! I was told by a health insurance salesman the other day that "60 is the age when everyone starts 'breaking down'." I told him we aren't used cars... But he didn't seem to get the point. Besides, he's got a ways to go before he's 60!)
Anyway, I'm watching this movie the other night, a foreign film that, on the eve of the Oscar's, is being re-released into selected theaters, as foreign films seem to be. I read a wonderful review of it in the paper, and then, lo and behold, discovered it on my cable's pay-per-view! This is the closest thing to an Act of God (at least, a positive one) to happen to me for some time.
The name of the movie is, "The Secret of the Grain." It is French, with English subtitles, and it is about a Tunisian man and his family, so even the French is not what we learned in school, because it is spiced with Arabic like en Provence with turmeric. Point is, the man is 61, and he's just been laid off from a ship yard where he's worked for 35 years.
He's at a certain point in his life that resembles mine in the uncomfortable way that art and life can imitate each other. There was one line in the movie that especially resonated with me, a line that revealed his innermost thoughts. He says, "All this time, and what do I have to leave my children? What do I have to show for my life?" At least, that's a reasonable facsimile of what the line is, and I can't remember whether he actually says, "nothing," or just distinctly implies it.
Either way, what he expresses is what it means to be 60 and male. There truly is this turning in us, from the so-called "power years" of the 50's to the "dis-empowered" ones that begin in the 60's. We go from feeling we are useful to fearing that we are utterly useless to anyone.
Realizing that this turning is occurring can lead to some rather comic/tragic decision making. In the movie, the man decides to invest his severance in transforming a scrapped fishing boat into a restaurant. I decided to invest my retirement in writing. In the movie, the man's decision has some tragic consequences-- but as I was watching it, I kept hoping they were going to turn out comically! I have the same experience in watching my own life: I keep hoping it is going to turn out comically.
In either case, I am learning first hand more about what it means that "there is no fool like an old fool!"
And when I come up with an answer to what is "good" about being 60, I'll let you, and my dentist's assistant, know.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The Importance of Being Human
Living with open ears gets to be challenging in a noisy world, and almost nowhere in my world is it as loud as it is in spinning class. One difference between an indoor ride and an outdoor ride is that at least with the latter, you get somewhere! But another has to do with the noise level. I am not an I-Pod wearer-- maybe among the last of us without earbuds and a white cord dangling. So I am not accustomed to having ambient sounds crowded rudely out by music at volumes approaching rock concerts or planes escaping the runway. Spinning has meant adjustments for my legs and heart to the exercise, and my ears (and heart!) to the music's volume.
It is the volume itself that makes actually listening to it difficult. Otherwise, one's whole body becomes an eardrum, and vibrates, like everything else in the room, to the beat. That's where the heart-part comes in: is my heart beating to the music or is the music beating my heart? Hard to say. My legs keep pumping anyway!
So it is unusual when, having become the noise I am immersed in, I actually hear the lyrics, especially if the song is new to me, as one was the other day. I heard this chorus, emerging over the relatively dulcet chords: "Are we human? Or are we dancers?"
I love it when existential questions rise like the Lady of the Lake (or Angelina Jolie) from beneath the primordial ooze of everyday distractions.
Turns out, the questions were posed by the British punk rock group, The Killers, in their web-released song, "Human," last September. Turns out, bit of controversy there. (You'll be helped to hear what I'm writing in that last bit by re-reading and saying "controversy" in a British accent!) More than one critic called the lyric "silly"-- which is both damning and positively saying something when it comes to rock music lyrics, most of which hold meaning like a sieve holds water. But one post opined that when the song appeared in German, the meaning suggested that maybe The Killers were likening us to marionettes. Some of the lyrics appeared to have allusions to puppetry. Maybe it helps to hear rock music sung in languages other than our own?
Point is, I really got caught by the dilemma of the questions-- thus (a)mused my way through several intervals, jumps, and sprints. Are we human? Or are we dancers?
I want to make two quick comments, not by way of answers, certainly not one way or the other, but in order to speak out of both sides of my mouth:
Yes, we are human-- and since it is our basic humanity that gets too often lost in this brutish and inhuman world, affirming it, confirming it, and returning to it requires a daily spiritual discipline. We are helped when we can treat each other with compassion and embrace ourselves and each other in our common humanity. We ARE human. But we need a kind of common encouragement to be our all-too-human selves...
And, yes, we can be dancers! In fact, would that we were dancers! Would that we could develop in ourselves a capacity to transcend our humanity, even if only for brief moments in time, and dance! And participate in that which is greater than ourselves with a freedom straining for abandon! And be moved by music that we hear with our whole selves, and give ourselves over to, so that we are made lighter, translucent even, by moving at the speed of sound!
Ah, maybe making us riders into dancers-with-pedals is what our spinning instructors are aiming for? Why then do I feel only the sound barrier? In the noise, I huff and puff and am reminded all too well of my humanity. In the music, who could tell what hills I might climb?
It is the volume itself that makes actually listening to it difficult. Otherwise, one's whole body becomes an eardrum, and vibrates, like everything else in the room, to the beat. That's where the heart-part comes in: is my heart beating to the music or is the music beating my heart? Hard to say. My legs keep pumping anyway!
So it is unusual when, having become the noise I am immersed in, I actually hear the lyrics, especially if the song is new to me, as one was the other day. I heard this chorus, emerging over the relatively dulcet chords: "Are we human? Or are we dancers?"
I love it when existential questions rise like the Lady of the Lake (or Angelina Jolie) from beneath the primordial ooze of everyday distractions.
Turns out, the questions were posed by the British punk rock group, The Killers, in their web-released song, "Human," last September. Turns out, bit of controversy there. (You'll be helped to hear what I'm writing in that last bit by re-reading and saying "controversy" in a British accent!) More than one critic called the lyric "silly"-- which is both damning and positively saying something when it comes to rock music lyrics, most of which hold meaning like a sieve holds water. But one post opined that when the song appeared in German, the meaning suggested that maybe The Killers were likening us to marionettes. Some of the lyrics appeared to have allusions to puppetry. Maybe it helps to hear rock music sung in languages other than our own?
Point is, I really got caught by the dilemma of the questions-- thus (a)mused my way through several intervals, jumps, and sprints. Are we human? Or are we dancers?
I want to make two quick comments, not by way of answers, certainly not one way or the other, but in order to speak out of both sides of my mouth:
Yes, we are human-- and since it is our basic humanity that gets too often lost in this brutish and inhuman world, affirming it, confirming it, and returning to it requires a daily spiritual discipline. We are helped when we can treat each other with compassion and embrace ourselves and each other in our common humanity. We ARE human. But we need a kind of common encouragement to be our all-too-human selves...
And, yes, we can be dancers! In fact, would that we were dancers! Would that we could develop in ourselves a capacity to transcend our humanity, even if only for brief moments in time, and dance! And participate in that which is greater than ourselves with a freedom straining for abandon! And be moved by music that we hear with our whole selves, and give ourselves over to, so that we are made lighter, translucent even, by moving at the speed of sound!
Ah, maybe making us riders into dancers-with-pedals is what our spinning instructors are aiming for? Why then do I feel only the sound barrier? In the noise, I huff and puff and am reminded all too well of my humanity. In the music, who could tell what hills I might climb?
Requiem
The following is one of John Updike's last poems, to be published later this year in a collection to be titled, "Endpoint." Updike died this past week at the age of 76. I'm posting it here both because I find it to be a moving self-memorial by a gifted writer, thus for what it says to me; and for what it lets me say about myself, thus for what it says for me.
It came to me the other day:/ Were I do die, no one would say,/ "Oh, what a shame! So young, so full/ Of promise-- depths unplumbable!"
Instead, a shrug and tearless eyes/ Will greet my overdue demise;/ The wide response will be, I know,/ "I thought he died a while ago."
For life's a shabby subterfuge,/ And death is real, and dark, and huge./ The shock of it will register/ Nowhere but where it will occur.
It came to me the other day:/ Were I do die, no one would say,/ "Oh, what a shame! So young, so full/ Of promise-- depths unplumbable!"
Instead, a shrug and tearless eyes/ Will greet my overdue demise;/ The wide response will be, I know,/ "I thought he died a while ago."
For life's a shabby subterfuge,/ And death is real, and dark, and huge./ The shock of it will register/ Nowhere but where it will occur.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Spirituality for Our Time
A newspaper article recently reported on the rise of, shall we say, "condensed" spirituality enhancement aids. This is not to say, "quickie" spiritual growth. But it is to concede that people these days are busy, and time is more and more of the essence, so it becomes important for people who are interested in their own spiritual growth to attend to it in the few free moments they have.
Publishers are willing to accommodate. Evidently some recent titles include: "The One Minute Bible, Day by Day;" "5 Minute Theologian: Maximum Truth in Minimum Time;" "Aunt Susie's 10-Minute Bible Dinners: Bringing God into Your Life One Dish at a Time;" and "7 Minutes with God." If these sound too adult-only oriented, you could get, "The Kid Who Would Be King: One Minute Bible Stories About Kids." Don't even have time to read? Listen to an evangelical "Faith Minute" on the radio. Don't have time to stop? In Orange County there's a mega-church that offers "drive-time devotionals." Not Christian? There's a Temple in Los Angeles that offers a "Friday Night Live" gathering for young professionals that includes cocktails along with more traditional features. Buddhist? Check out "10-Minute Zen: Easy Tips to Lead You Down the Path of Enlightenment."
This whole trend is understandable and would be more laudable than laughable if it were not such a sad comment on our ever-dwindling attention spans. It probably started long before television, but since TV, it has been shown that the most we can pay attention at any given time is about 22 minutes, the length of the average television show. (When I say, "it has been shown," it isn't that I'm especially aware of any real research on attention spans. What I mean is that, "it has been shown" to most preachers by the elders in charge of their churches that the congregants can't really pay attention to a sermon that lasts much more than 20 minutes-- especially because sermons don't usually come with commercial interruptions, to give attention spans a break. To my knowledge, this information has not "been shown" to preachers in our African American churches.)
And now, we have the Internet, and Websites, and blogs... Like this one... Blogs, I am told, should be short-- about 250 words, by my estimate-- so that people can visit, scan and leave quickly. Not like this one...
But here's my point: as our technology becomes both more sophisticated and prolific, it changes us. One thing it changes is our attentions spans. I fear it shortens them-- and then I console myself with the hours on end my son can spend playing World of Warcraft on line!
The thing is, spiritual growth is both a daily and a sort of "World of Warcraft" thing: One has to pay attention over a number of years really if one is going to grow spiritually. It's not gonna happen in 5, 7, or 10 minute bites. Spiritual growth takes more sustained dedication than that.
So how DO we grow spiritually in a world where our lives are replete with distractions? I think the answer has more to do with changing the way we live than with trying to adapt our spirituality to fit with the little time we have for it.
At least, that is what seems to me to be yet another "inconvenient truth."
Publishers are willing to accommodate. Evidently some recent titles include: "The One Minute Bible, Day by Day;" "5 Minute Theologian: Maximum Truth in Minimum Time;" "Aunt Susie's 10-Minute Bible Dinners: Bringing God into Your Life One Dish at a Time;" and "7 Minutes with God." If these sound too adult-only oriented, you could get, "The Kid Who Would Be King: One Minute Bible Stories About Kids." Don't even have time to read? Listen to an evangelical "Faith Minute" on the radio. Don't have time to stop? In Orange County there's a mega-church that offers "drive-time devotionals." Not Christian? There's a Temple in Los Angeles that offers a "Friday Night Live" gathering for young professionals that includes cocktails along with more traditional features. Buddhist? Check out "10-Minute Zen: Easy Tips to Lead You Down the Path of Enlightenment."
This whole trend is understandable and would be more laudable than laughable if it were not such a sad comment on our ever-dwindling attention spans. It probably started long before television, but since TV, it has been shown that the most we can pay attention at any given time is about 22 minutes, the length of the average television show. (When I say, "it has been shown," it isn't that I'm especially aware of any real research on attention spans. What I mean is that, "it has been shown" to most preachers by the elders in charge of their churches that the congregants can't really pay attention to a sermon that lasts much more than 20 minutes-- especially because sermons don't usually come with commercial interruptions, to give attention spans a break. To my knowledge, this information has not "been shown" to preachers in our African American churches.)
And now, we have the Internet, and Websites, and blogs... Like this one... Blogs, I am told, should be short-- about 250 words, by my estimate-- so that people can visit, scan and leave quickly. Not like this one...
But here's my point: as our technology becomes both more sophisticated and prolific, it changes us. One thing it changes is our attentions spans. I fear it shortens them-- and then I console myself with the hours on end my son can spend playing World of Warcraft on line!
The thing is, spiritual growth is both a daily and a sort of "World of Warcraft" thing: One has to pay attention over a number of years really if one is going to grow spiritually. It's not gonna happen in 5, 7, or 10 minute bites. Spiritual growth takes more sustained dedication than that.
So how DO we grow spiritually in a world where our lives are replete with distractions? I think the answer has more to do with changing the way we live than with trying to adapt our spirituality to fit with the little time we have for it.
At least, that is what seems to me to be yet another "inconvenient truth."
Survival of the Lucky
A Parade magazine article a couple weeks back (Jan. 11) trumpeted: "You Can SURVIVE! 9 Ways to Stay Alive When the Worst Happens." Its author, Ben Sherwood, trombones his research: "Is it just luck when somebody makes it though a catastrophic accident or illness? After interviewing hundreds of survivors and experts from around the world, I've found that overcoming adversity comes down to a combination of factors. Here's how you can increase your own chances of surviving and thriving."
Since "surviving and thriving" in the face of adversity is of some professional interest to me (see dealwithchange.com), Mr. Sherwood got me at word one. Unfortunately, at least in the instances he mentions, it turns out it truly IS mostly luck-- along with a little good positioning. Let me add my own baritone voice to this brassy choir.
Situation One: Escape a Plane Crash: Surviving this, Sherwood says, turns on knowing where to sit. Seats near an exit row are "safer." Caveat One: We learned recently that surviving a plane crash might depend less on where one sits than who sits in the pilot seat! Caveat Two: If you are Muslim or look like you might be Muslim, don't have this "safer seat" discussion after you get on the plane. A couple of weeks ago a Muslim couple were escorted off a plane for doing just that, because some passengers were alarmed at their conversation! The money they spent for their aborted flight was returned to them, but the airline did not pay for booking them on another, later flight... I don't know what happened to their luggage. Such are ethics and etiquette in a post-9/11 world.
Situation Two: Get Out of a Hotel Fire: Lesson: don't take a room higher than fire ladders can reach!
Situations Three and Four: Don't be admitted into nor discharged from a hospital on a Friday or a weekend. In other words, time your illnesses and recoveries for when hospitals are adequately staffed. Good luck with that!
Situation Five has to do with the initials of your name! You'll do better, evidently if you so name yourself that your initials spell out something positive, like ACE, WIN, or WOW, as opposed to those whose have "bad" connotations, like RAT, BUM, or SAD. What about those of us whose initials spell a color? My father's are: RED. And how does it work if, say, in your monogram your last initial is in the middle, and your middle, last? I mean, can one rearrange one's initials so that they spell something that increases one's chances or surviving-- or even, thriving?
Situation Six: Turns out, if you're planning on risking a cardiac arrest, go to Vegas. There are more defibrillators there-- and Someone is always watching!
Situation Seven: To "walk away from an accident," sit in the middle of the back seat... If only I could drive from there...
Situation Eight is essentially being extra careful when walking across a street on Halloween, Dec. 23, and New Years Day... OK, so Christmas Eve and Christmas are safe?
Situation Nine amounts to "research" that men are prone to die just before their birthdays and women, just after. My mother died the week before hers, but then, it was observed that she wore the pants in our family... (Just kidding, Dad!)
All of this drivel would be nothing more than attributed meaning if Mr. Sherwood were not serious enough about the conclusions he jumped to, to publish them in an upcoming book, with the subtitle, "The Secrets and Science That Could Save Your Life."
I think his so-called research just goes to substantiate one of my favorite sayings of Mark Twain: "There are lies, damned lies, and statistics!"
Watch out for yourself! It's a dangerous world out there!
Since "surviving and thriving" in the face of adversity is of some professional interest to me (see dealwithchange.com), Mr. Sherwood got me at word one. Unfortunately, at least in the instances he mentions, it turns out it truly IS mostly luck-- along with a little good positioning. Let me add my own baritone voice to this brassy choir.
Situation One: Escape a Plane Crash: Surviving this, Sherwood says, turns on knowing where to sit. Seats near an exit row are "safer." Caveat One: We learned recently that surviving a plane crash might depend less on where one sits than who sits in the pilot seat! Caveat Two: If you are Muslim or look like you might be Muslim, don't have this "safer seat" discussion after you get on the plane. A couple of weeks ago a Muslim couple were escorted off a plane for doing just that, because some passengers were alarmed at their conversation! The money they spent for their aborted flight was returned to them, but the airline did not pay for booking them on another, later flight... I don't know what happened to their luggage. Such are ethics and etiquette in a post-9/11 world.
Situation Two: Get Out of a Hotel Fire: Lesson: don't take a room higher than fire ladders can reach!
Situations Three and Four: Don't be admitted into nor discharged from a hospital on a Friday or a weekend. In other words, time your illnesses and recoveries for when hospitals are adequately staffed. Good luck with that!
Situation Five has to do with the initials of your name! You'll do better, evidently if you so name yourself that your initials spell out something positive, like ACE, WIN, or WOW, as opposed to those whose have "bad" connotations, like RAT, BUM, or SAD. What about those of us whose initials spell a color? My father's are: RED. And how does it work if, say, in your monogram your last initial is in the middle, and your middle, last? I mean, can one rearrange one's initials so that they spell something that increases one's chances or surviving-- or even, thriving?
Situation Six: Turns out, if you're planning on risking a cardiac arrest, go to Vegas. There are more defibrillators there-- and Someone is always watching!
Situation Seven: To "walk away from an accident," sit in the middle of the back seat... If only I could drive from there...
Situation Eight is essentially being extra careful when walking across a street on Halloween, Dec. 23, and New Years Day... OK, so Christmas Eve and Christmas are safe?
Situation Nine amounts to "research" that men are prone to die just before their birthdays and women, just after. My mother died the week before hers, but then, it was observed that she wore the pants in our family... (Just kidding, Dad!)
All of this drivel would be nothing more than attributed meaning if Mr. Sherwood were not serious enough about the conclusions he jumped to, to publish them in an upcoming book, with the subtitle, "The Secrets and Science That Could Save Your Life."
I think his so-called research just goes to substantiate one of my favorite sayings of Mark Twain: "There are lies, damned lies, and statistics!"
Watch out for yourself! It's a dangerous world out there!
Virtuous Citizen
On this day after the inauguration of Barak Obama as our 44th President, the nitpickers and the pundits have begun to splash in the puddles and even pools of unparalleled joy that remain after yesterday's flood. As he spoke of storms, we felt the heavens open in showers of blessing. Now, the day after, things are being said about the things he said.
Like, while he said he was the 44th man who'd taken the oath of office, he was actually only the 43rd, because Grover Cleveland took it twice! And even as he said "man," as grateful as we were for him, we couldn't help but wish for the first woman to take that oath.
On the other hand, the text and tone of his inauguration address is being assessed for what it is and what it is not. Much is being made of it, and rightly so! But not so much that I would be prohibited from adding my two cents.
Cent One: For the first time in my memory, an inauguration address began with "My Fellow Citizens" instead of "My Fellow Americans." I take this to be a significant shift, for in it is an appeal to participation, to engagement, to awareness, and to commitment that simply is not carried in our being merely "Americans."
We are indeed citizens of this republic and of this great experiment in democracy. As such, we share a responsibility-- a responsibility that Obama articulated in part-- for our life together as nation. By reminding us that what we have in common with each other, and with him, is our citizenship, he appealed to less to our emotions and more to our intellects. When he, in another part of the speech, pronounced the end of tribalism, he in effect declared that we are bound together by something that transcends blood and race, and individuals' histories, and groups' self-interests. Our "membership" in America is as citizens. In that sense, the Greater Good, indeed what I would call using an outdated term, the Common Weal, is to be our principle concern and aim.
Cent Two: Along these lines, it was interesting to me what he said at the end of the address, where he remembered for us George Washington's use of the words of Thomas Payne, I think just before he led the Continental Army across the Delaware and toward Valley Forge. Those words were, in part, "Let it be told to the future world... that in the depth of winter, when nothing by hope and virtue could survive...". Ah, I thought, the great irony of that! When in recent memory do we know of "hope and virtue" being the only survivors in the face of adversity? In our time, hope and virtue were among the first casualties of the war on terror, murdered by fear and expediency.
So the man who inspired us to hope and gave us confidence to believe that we could find the courage to hope for real again, after hope was assassinated in the '60's and virtue was stangled in the '70's, now tells us that we might find it in ourselves, individually and collectively, to be virtuous again. Indeed, Obama is calling us to be "virtuous citizens," and is promising us that he, at least, will strive to be one.
What a departure from "Presidency as usual!" What a change from "Presidency as we have known it!"
One final observation: No one I've read seems to have picked up on what I think is the most powerful line in his whole speech: "This is the source of our confidence: the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny." Now, I'm not entirely clear what he means here-- because I'm not sure how we go about shaping an "uncertain destiny!" But I am clear that he believes that there is a Providential Demand as well as Guide involved-- so we are not alone! Perhaps because he believes this, and believed it in this way, I actually believe him when he says, "God Bless America."
Like, while he said he was the 44th man who'd taken the oath of office, he was actually only the 43rd, because Grover Cleveland took it twice! And even as he said "man," as grateful as we were for him, we couldn't help but wish for the first woman to take that oath.
On the other hand, the text and tone of his inauguration address is being assessed for what it is and what it is not. Much is being made of it, and rightly so! But not so much that I would be prohibited from adding my two cents.
Cent One: For the first time in my memory, an inauguration address began with "My Fellow Citizens" instead of "My Fellow Americans." I take this to be a significant shift, for in it is an appeal to participation, to engagement, to awareness, and to commitment that simply is not carried in our being merely "Americans."
We are indeed citizens of this republic and of this great experiment in democracy. As such, we share a responsibility-- a responsibility that Obama articulated in part-- for our life together as nation. By reminding us that what we have in common with each other, and with him, is our citizenship, he appealed to less to our emotions and more to our intellects. When he, in another part of the speech, pronounced the end of tribalism, he in effect declared that we are bound together by something that transcends blood and race, and individuals' histories, and groups' self-interests. Our "membership" in America is as citizens. In that sense, the Greater Good, indeed what I would call using an outdated term, the Common Weal, is to be our principle concern and aim.
Cent Two: Along these lines, it was interesting to me what he said at the end of the address, where he remembered for us George Washington's use of the words of Thomas Payne, I think just before he led the Continental Army across the Delaware and toward Valley Forge. Those words were, in part, "Let it be told to the future world... that in the depth of winter, when nothing by hope and virtue could survive...". Ah, I thought, the great irony of that! When in recent memory do we know of "hope and virtue" being the only survivors in the face of adversity? In our time, hope and virtue were among the first casualties of the war on terror, murdered by fear and expediency.
So the man who inspired us to hope and gave us confidence to believe that we could find the courage to hope for real again, after hope was assassinated in the '60's and virtue was stangled in the '70's, now tells us that we might find it in ourselves, individually and collectively, to be virtuous again. Indeed, Obama is calling us to be "virtuous citizens," and is promising us that he, at least, will strive to be one.
What a departure from "Presidency as usual!" What a change from "Presidency as we have known it!"
One final observation: No one I've read seems to have picked up on what I think is the most powerful line in his whole speech: "This is the source of our confidence: the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny." Now, I'm not entirely clear what he means here-- because I'm not sure how we go about shaping an "uncertain destiny!" But I am clear that he believes that there is a Providential Demand as well as Guide involved-- so we are not alone! Perhaps because he believes this, and believed it in this way, I actually believe him when he says, "God Bless America."
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