NEWS FLASH
As I paused in writing this early morning to check out the television news, the guide showed a half-hour program with Garner Ted Armstrong. What a whiplash of consciousness for me! I hit that channel button out of curiosity; just how old would be the video? Might they be replaying his tapes from the sixties when I was in college and hung on every word he spoke? When I played basketball with him and marvelled at the many tattoos emblazoned on his body? Or would they replay video from the seventies leading up to his excommunication by his dad? Or would it be from the last decade of his life, long after I had seen him and had lost all interest in his product? But what I found instead was a replacement infomercial about better abs! Fitting, I would say. Take care of your body; you'll be better off in the long run!
But to continue my earlier writing - -
Subservient! Such a demoralizing idea, handed to us by tradition and ages of servitude to something greater! Such a difficult way to live, always assuming the worst about ourselves and our very tentative existence, all the while struggling to please something beyond our grasp. Beyond our sight. Humanity could be great! But we waste so much energy on traditional nonsense.
My friend, Dr. John Bennett, writes of the magnificence of the cosmos and a healthy reverence humans might pay to the greatness of all that exists - to be better caretakers and stop destructive wars and pollution. His science is all about energy and a proposed new law of energy. His philosophy, rather than making worms of humans, shows us that we are indeed small in stature when compared to the amazing, ever-expanding universe, but that we may well be the keepers of the record of life and are probably the greatest product of the awesome forces of evolution. Each human could be glorious while still human, rather than struggling against ourselves for all our lives to somehow, with great humility and hope-beyond-hope, perhaps qualify to become some other form in another life - finally, maybe, by the skin of our teeth and through ascetic self-denial, becoming glorious.
Personally, I try to be glorious pretty much daily. Failure to manage this every day is inevitable, but trying is as simple as starting each day with a positive attitude instead of begging on my knees for help because I am so weak and worthless! Many days, because I am happy to serve other humans without being subservient, I accomplish a decent amount of glory. Sometimes I even allow myself a bit of crowing about it! Typically though, I am quietly pleased with a day's outcome and go to sleep contented. Never again will I see myself as a worm, and never again will I waste morning and evening time on my painful old knees to satisfy some foolish, age-worn concept of humility called subservience. Not to an invisible supreme being nor to visible, greedy people who see themselves as worthy to be served. To the Trumps of our society who expect to be served!
In reading the words purportedly spoken by a Son of God, that one should serve others, Christians have turned that into meaning one should be a slave to a belief, to be subservient to the ultimate guide, the supreme being. The tendency then is to be subservient to the various vicars of that supreme being.
Why are most of today's religious Americans part of the political right wing? Why do they readily follow along with Republican policies? Easier for me to understand now than it was ever before. In fact, I could never grasp it in any way prior to my epiphany. [ I'm interjecting here that none of this means I hate Republicans or Christians. Rarely do I even experience hate; seeing my wife suffer pain - that I truly hate. Humans, no. I happen to love some folks who are of both persuasions, Christian and Republican, and I respect vast numbers of people who are both or either of the two. All I ask is that people look inside their own traditions and habits with a healthy skepticism about the rightness of all their handed-down beliefs. ]
The religious are taught from the cradle to be followers of strong lords. If these believers ever stoop to being entangled in governments of this world, who represents the most powerful vicars to be followed within a government of man? Naturally the wealthiest and most powerful. Why would so many within the 99% of our nation, in financial terms, be so willing to support and cater to those wealthiest who keep gaining ever more wealth by their greed and their purchased control of our elected representatives? I believe now it is a simple thing: they are living vicariously through these lords and have some vague hope of becoming the lords themselves - much the way I was an aspiring "God" back in my Christian days. Our sect taught us to believe we would eventually be part of the God family! That we would rule our own worlds, that of the increase of His government there would be no end! Is it not understandable, within the framework of this heavy concept of belief in a hoped-for next life, that once a person tries to flee the madness of one small sect, his sight would turn to new lords and not to self-assertion and independence? Just ponder the question.
Please understand me here, dear Reader; I am not talking politics. I am talking, I suppose, sociology in some way, though as an untrained sociologist. I hope those young students of the discipline such as Joy who writes in that other blog mentioned, will take up where I am incapable of expounding and will do some serious research. I am philosophizing free-style here. That's what free-thinkers do. And don't get the idea I am some kind of bleeding-heart liberal, as a friend named George recently branded me. I am in fact, extremely liberal. I am a free thinker! Far too liberal and free to be labeled a Democrat! I am truly democratic in my way of seeing the world; egalitarian to the max. The far-right agenda sickens and angers me! I see us as a nation, trudging surely to that theocracy concept that so infects the masses of our planet. That stifling world of subservience exhibited by our sadly unenlightened Middle-East brothers belonging to faiths that gladly throw human life to the wind, killing insanely. Where is the difference, really? Any theocracy is as dangerous as the next. And who wants to live under a theocratic form of government? Christians do! And what group of people could supply enough votes to sway our nation toward theocracy? Christians. It explains finally to me how our electorate could put back into office, in 2004, a complete incompetent who was far worse than just a buffoon. He was a menace to the world and had already proven destructive to the American and democratic way of life. The first president in our nation's history to attack a sovereign nation in an unprovoked war must have come across as powerful to religionists - and don't overlook the subliminal tendency Christians would surely have had then to vote for the guy most fiercely attacking that other huge religious group over there!
And apparently Christians loved our international embarrassment who masqueraded as a leader! They appear to think a lot of his new clone who struts in the same Texas manner while running for office and scares the crap out of those of us who love democracy.
So the two problems I have with today's Republicans (remember, I liked Ike!) are: 1.) They have sold themselves to the rich and powerful, and 2.) They have dragged Christians along with them by using the above described proclivity for the religious to follow the highest power available. Now that these factions have formed their unholy(!) union, they appear determined to take us further down that road to a theocracy, to a restricted life, even as they try to use the word freedom in their appeal to the populace. Throw in those social issues of when does life begin and is it okay to be gay, and you're all set to grind unbelievers into the dust of history. And the 1% will gladly pay for the continued demise of democracy in the name of capitalism. They destroy both. And by the way, they don't really give a damn about your beliefs, Christians!
There will one day be no freedom left in the home of those not willing to be brave and not willing or able to think for themselves. Again, I am not speaking politics here except as it applies to the trends that have been set in motion. As a fierce independent, I detest any form of tyranny over the mind of man, including theocracy!
markman
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Epiphany Expanded
As I paused in writing this early morning to check out the television news, the guide showed a half-hour program with Garner Ted Armstrong. What a whiplash of consciousness for me! I hit that channel button out of curiosity; just how old would be the video? Might they be replaying his tapes from the sixties when I was in college and hung on every word he spoke? When I played basketball with him and marvelled at the many tattoos emblazoned on his body? Or would they replay video from the seventies leading up to his excommunication by his dad? Or would it be from the last decade of his life, long after I had seen him and had lost all interest in his product? But what I found instead was a replacement infomercial about better abs! Fitting, I would say. Take care of your body; you'll be better off in the long run!
But to continue my earlier writing - -
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Mini Epiphany
Some events of the past week have conspired to awaken me to a simple truth about humanity. At least it's something that appears to me to be true - your slant on it may be quite different.
First, there was a planned march last Saturday (Oct. 15) in Palm Springs that linked up on
Occupy Together and other websites to the Occupy Wall Street movement. Since my financial status places me in the lower, fat middle of the probably pear-shaped middle-class diagram, I felt it was time for me to register my complete dissatisfaction with the way our financial system's overlords have mismanaged our economy. It's time to tell our controllers that greed is not the basis of democracy. I marched in protest - for the first time ever.
Several days later, on Thursday, I attended the funeral of a friend. No connection, right? Absolutely right. But during the throes of another half-sleep early morning mental montage session, I came upon something that hit me as though someone suddenly turned on a light. Not entirely different from that moment back in 1963 when I was suddenly overwhelmed by some need to become a devotee of Christian fundamentalism while watching some emotional evangelist pace the stage at a tent meeting, his arms flailing and pages of his open bible flapping in the quick movements and night air. That was what I have referred to elsewhere as the night I "saw the light." It was a blinding light I had to extinguish with much effort thirteen years later - I chose not to be blind any longer.
No sudden light came to me during the funeral this week, and to be very strictly honest here, the person being honored at the ceremony was a woman I had not actually met. She was a lady in her fifties, and I knew her by name only. But some members of her family I have known for all of my adult life, and it was chiefly due to this younger sibling's crippling disease and her living arrangements away from the family that I had not met her nearly fifty years ago. My desire to show respect for the deceased, but more to express friendship to her sisters and one brother whom I know pretty well, placed me in that funeral chapel. And put me there at the grave site in a vast, sprawling memorial garden at the family plot. This was a rare event for me, indeed.
Bear with me as I say only a few brief things about the service. It is important to lay the groundwork for my epiphany, but I dare not ramble on as I am wont to do over religion and its mysteries.
The more years that pass between my rare visits to that arcane world of religious mutterings that are the requisite syntax of ceremonies such as funerals, the more I am mystified when I hear the mouthings again. It was part of my responsibility for eight years of my [misspent] youth to conduct these ceremonies and try to somewhat sooth the hurt being felt by loved ones of the deceased. But in the particular denomination to which I gave my obedience, it was also my instructed responsibility to preach the gospel to unbelievers. Yes, it was told to us as the young tentacles of that little sect, that it was at funerals where we had an opening and a moral duty to speak truth with forceful directness to perhaps reach into the hearts and souls of some of those attending a service who may never otherwise be within earshot of the gospel. A captive audience, in other words. Hit 'em hard!
Following the graveside service on Thursday, the minister came around, being friendly to all and shaking hands. Since he had been of the amiable sort when we arrived prior to the service at the chapel, had made the effort to approach me and offer his simple, first-name introduction to me, I felt I could cut him some slack. I told him he did "a nice job." He didn't need to know (but perhaps could read me a little and had some questions about what I really thought), that my compliment was extremely qualified. "Nice job" meant in my mind that within the accepted, traditional framework of his responsibility to make soft sounds and utter empty promises based solely on biblical blatherings, he was okay as an officiant. He did as his beliefs instructed him. At least he was somewhat personable and had a decent talent for walking that line between being somber and light in his delivery.
The guy was practiced too in his stagecraft. He was theatrically capable. But something that irritated me in his graveside speech actually helped me toward my moment of clarity early this morning. He quoted the last lines of the beautiful song, The Rose. Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows - lies the seed that with the sun's [love], in the spring becomes the rose. "Love" is placed here in brackets because, even though it is the word chosen by the lyricist, it was replaced in the ceremony by the word "warmth."
Why? No way did he forget the actual lyric; he made the change purposely. (Reminds me of those days long ago when I had to re-learn some old hymnal staples to be sung with changed words approved by the lyric arbiter of that little sect which had its divergent beliefs.) My assumption here is that by saying "sun's love," the man might have felt he would be in some way practicing sun worship. He had to have been subliminally asserting that it's only God's love that grows those flowers, not some ethereal "love" passed along by the inanimate sun. (Surely the beautiful song's gifted composer will forgive this tiny correction!) The man spoke as he had to speak, was afraid not to speak! I far more respected my friend, the older brother of the deceased, who plainly spoke of questioning why things happen as they do. He was honest and thoughtful.
So - my epiphany.
To help me reach it, something I myself had written earlier in the week was a spark. My facebook account on Friday flagged me to a comment on my wall post. So I went to read the comment and perforce, read again my own post, seeing it differently somehow. here it is:
Cutting in here is ragged, but I am ending this part of my insight, my epiphany at this point, having gotten long-winded and gone into more extensive philosophy as I tried to wrap this up. My next post will pick up where this one leaves off. For today, I will go about my routines feeling far from any routine I've followed in a long time! I saw the light!
markman
First, there was a planned march last Saturday (Oct. 15) in Palm Springs that linked up on
Occupy Together and other websites to the Occupy Wall Street movement. Since my financial status places me in the lower, fat middle of the probably pear-shaped middle-class diagram, I felt it was time for me to register my complete dissatisfaction with the way our financial system's overlords have mismanaged our economy. It's time to tell our controllers that greed is not the basis of democracy. I marched in protest - for the first time ever.
Several days later, on Thursday, I attended the funeral of a friend. No connection, right? Absolutely right. But during the throes of another half-sleep early morning mental montage session, I came upon something that hit me as though someone suddenly turned on a light. Not entirely different from that moment back in 1963 when I was suddenly overwhelmed by some need to become a devotee of Christian fundamentalism while watching some emotional evangelist pace the stage at a tent meeting, his arms flailing and pages of his open bible flapping in the quick movements and night air. That was what I have referred to elsewhere as the night I "saw the light." It was a blinding light I had to extinguish with much effort thirteen years later - I chose not to be blind any longer.
No sudden light came to me during the funeral this week, and to be very strictly honest here, the person being honored at the ceremony was a woman I had not actually met. She was a lady in her fifties, and I knew her by name only. But some members of her family I have known for all of my adult life, and it was chiefly due to this younger sibling's crippling disease and her living arrangements away from the family that I had not met her nearly fifty years ago. My desire to show respect for the deceased, but more to express friendship to her sisters and one brother whom I know pretty well, placed me in that funeral chapel. And put me there at the grave site in a vast, sprawling memorial garden at the family plot. This was a rare event for me, indeed.
Bear with me as I say only a few brief things about the service. It is important to lay the groundwork for my epiphany, but I dare not ramble on as I am wont to do over religion and its mysteries.
The more years that pass between my rare visits to that arcane world of religious mutterings that are the requisite syntax of ceremonies such as funerals, the more I am mystified when I hear the mouthings again. It was part of my responsibility for eight years of my [misspent] youth to conduct these ceremonies and try to somewhat sooth the hurt being felt by loved ones of the deceased. But in the particular denomination to which I gave my obedience, it was also my instructed responsibility to preach the gospel to unbelievers. Yes, it was told to us as the young tentacles of that little sect, that it was at funerals where we had an opening and a moral duty to speak truth with forceful directness to perhaps reach into the hearts and souls of some of those attending a service who may never otherwise be within earshot of the gospel. A captive audience, in other words. Hit 'em hard!
Following the graveside service on Thursday, the minister came around, being friendly to all and shaking hands. Since he had been of the amiable sort when we arrived prior to the service at the chapel, had made the effort to approach me and offer his simple, first-name introduction to me, I felt I could cut him some slack. I told him he did "a nice job." He didn't need to know (but perhaps could read me a little and had some questions about what I really thought), that my compliment was extremely qualified. "Nice job" meant in my mind that within the accepted, traditional framework of his responsibility to make soft sounds and utter empty promises based solely on biblical blatherings, he was okay as an officiant. He did as his beliefs instructed him. At least he was somewhat personable and had a decent talent for walking that line between being somber and light in his delivery.
The guy was practiced too in his stagecraft. He was theatrically capable. But something that irritated me in his graveside speech actually helped me toward my moment of clarity early this morning. He quoted the last lines of the beautiful song, The Rose. Just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snows - lies the seed that with the sun's [love], in the spring becomes the rose. "Love" is placed here in brackets because, even though it is the word chosen by the lyricist, it was replaced in the ceremony by the word "warmth."
Why? No way did he forget the actual lyric; he made the change purposely. (Reminds me of those days long ago when I had to re-learn some old hymnal staples to be sung with changed words approved by the lyric arbiter of that little sect which had its divergent beliefs.) My assumption here is that by saying "sun's love," the man might have felt he would be in some way practicing sun worship. He had to have been subliminally asserting that it's only God's love that grows those flowers, not some ethereal "love" passed along by the inanimate sun. (Surely the beautiful song's gifted composer will forgive this tiny correction!) The man spoke as he had to speak, was afraid not to speak! I far more respected my friend, the older brother of the deceased, who plainly spoke of questioning why things happen as they do. He was honest and thoughtful.
So - my epiphany.
To help me reach it, something I myself had written earlier in the week was a spark. My facebook account on Friday flagged me to a comment on my wall post. So I went to read the comment and perforce, read again my own post, seeing it differently somehow. here it is:
Cutting in here is ragged, but I am ending this part of my insight, my epiphany at this point, having gotten long-winded and gone into more extensive philosophy as I tried to wrap this up. My next post will pick up where this one leaves off. For today, I will go about my routines feeling far from any routine I've followed in a long time! I saw the light!
markman
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Reality - Really?
No, it must be spelled realety. Who knows? When people don't care enough to actually think about the words they are attempting to say, what difference does spelling make?
This is a brief gripe session about my profession and the lack of respect my own kind pay to our industry. Day after day, I must hear people destroy the word realty. As well as Realtor. My own company's founder and owner for four decades uses these foolish terms continually as do all the other Realtors in my office except for the daughter of the boss. She's now the managing broker as her dad moves into semi-retirement (an expression that always makes me picture a truck driver retiring his old semi!). Anyway, the daughter who grew up hearing the awful pronunciation of her dad's profession, somehow trained herself to say it correctly, so now she and I are the two of our group who know how to say "realty."
Above, I said that this strange, non-word must be spelled realety. The fact that most people (even many who know how to pronounce nuclear) say real-i-ty must be a bi-product of their ease of saying realestate, run together in this way as though dealing with one word. So it follows that a company that practices realestate would place the word realety in its title. And those agents working there are Realetors. If people would stop and write down what they are saying - which Realtors do every day but use the actual spelling of realty - they should notice that the way they pronounce it does not match up with the way they write it. They write two syllables and pronounce a third one that isn't there. Now if they were to carefully sound out the manner in which they are speaking the word realty, they would probably have to write reality. Why would they then not notice that in reality, they are speaking an entirely different word? And why would anyone who uses these terms daily not only know how to pronounce them but also be instructing others (at least by example) in how to say them?
So if you call my realestate office and anyone other than the managing broker should answer the phone (yours truly does not answer phones at the office), you'll hear, "CherryValleyRealety; how may I help you?" Hopefully you will answer, "Oh, well, in reality I was hoping to reach a realty office!" Of course you wouldn't do this, and as a courteous person, neither do I. But it always requires discipline on my part to not hold an impromptu class in simple pronunciation logic.
It occurs to me that a professional Realtor would have reason to say either Realtor or realty somewhere between 20 and 40 times per day - over the course of a year, perhaps 10,000 times. So in consistently saying Realetor and realety instead, the four-decade professional fellow mentioned above has waisted around half a million syllables and made people like me want to stop and correct him half a million times. Hard to find any logic to this common foolishness.
But it does give critics like me a chance to feel superior!
This is a brief gripe session about my profession and the lack of respect my own kind pay to our industry. Day after day, I must hear people destroy the word realty. As well as Realtor. My own company's founder and owner for four decades uses these foolish terms continually as do all the other Realtors in my office except for the daughter of the boss. She's now the managing broker as her dad moves into semi-retirement (an expression that always makes me picture a truck driver retiring his old semi!). Anyway, the daughter who grew up hearing the awful pronunciation of her dad's profession, somehow trained herself to say it correctly, so now she and I are the two of our group who know how to say "realty."
Above, I said that this strange, non-word must be spelled realety. The fact that most people (even many who know how to pronounce nuclear) say real-i-ty must be a bi-product of their ease of saying realestate, run together in this way as though dealing with one word. So it follows that a company that practices realestate would place the word realety in its title. And those agents working there are Realetors. If people would stop and write down what they are saying - which Realtors do every day but use the actual spelling of realty - they should notice that the way they pronounce it does not match up with the way they write it. They write two syllables and pronounce a third one that isn't there. Now if they were to carefully sound out the manner in which they are speaking the word realty, they would probably have to write reality. Why would they then not notice that in reality, they are speaking an entirely different word? And why would anyone who uses these terms daily not only know how to pronounce them but also be instructing others (at least by example) in how to say them?
So if you call my realestate office and anyone other than the managing broker should answer the phone (yours truly does not answer phones at the office), you'll hear, "CherryValleyRealety; how may I help you?" Hopefully you will answer, "Oh, well, in reality I was hoping to reach a realty office!" Of course you wouldn't do this, and as a courteous person, neither do I. But it always requires discipline on my part to not hold an impromptu class in simple pronunciation logic.
It occurs to me that a professional Realtor would have reason to say either Realtor or realty somewhere between 20 and 40 times per day - over the course of a year, perhaps 10,000 times. So in consistently saying Realetor and realety instead, the four-decade professional fellow mentioned above has waisted around half a million syllables and made people like me want to stop and correct him half a million times. Hard to find any logic to this common foolishness.
But it does give critics like me a chance to feel superior!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
"We'll Be PRAYING For Her"
Tomorrow, at long last, we are heading for the Desert Regional Hospital in Palm Springs, early, for my wife to have a hysterectomy. This has been an obvious need for several months, even strongly recommended by a gynecologist in the first week of August. Now after weeks of arranging and re-arranging plans through her HMO and affiliated resources, the surgery is finally set for tomorrow morning.
Perhaps - just perhaps - some great years of better health and a new lease-on-life will be experienced by this lovely lady in her early sixties who has not known good health since her mid-teens. That's when the migraine headaches began, which have increased in number and severity over the years. Because her mother who suffered similarly, was freed from migraines upon menopause, the hope was always there that at least relief was on the way. But through many years of a debilitating menopausal marathon, my wife not only did not lose the headaches, but has found them ever more difficult and life-altering in recent years. Today, it's a rare morning when she awakes and can fully open her eyes to the light. There is that slight but overwhelming hope in my own mind that tomorrow's necessary procedure may also finally bring the relief her mother's experience promised.
But this writing began this morning because of something the surgery has unleashed: a mega prayer fest.
Amazing to me how many people, both close associates and mere acquaintances, have vowed to pray for her. Not amazing they think that much of her, because she is a wonderful person, but amazing that this concept of saying words or forcing thoughts of some reverential type toward the open sky is offered in an effort to be of some kind of help to my wife.
Okay, before you simply stop reading, at least try to find a way to stay with it for a while. I'm not trying to change anyone's thinking here, I'm simply revealing my own. You might consider these words of mine as perhaps a bit of fluff meant to entertain, maybe similar to little grist-for-the-mill thoughts offered by the likes of the retiring Andy Rooney, or light-hearted humorous jabs more in the vein of a Garrison Keillor. Any way you want to read this to make it palatable is fine; at least I hope you'll try. And keep in mind all along that I very much appreciate the thoughtfulness and concern these folks are revealing by offers to pray. I thank them sincerely each time. They need not know I am thanking them for the humanity they are expressing, not for the praying. It is thoughtful and considerate of them to pray.
But why, first of all, would so many thoughtful people suddenly want to pray for this lady who has been worthy of everyone's compassion for half a century of poor health? Is it that surgery is a big scary unknown so it's obviously time to get serious about calling out to a higher power? To be fair though, maybe some of them have been doing this over the last many months as they have seen her in pain while her organs rebelled inside her, preventing her beloved outings on the golf course, making even walking a terribly difficult activity. She has been so excited to finally get to this stage of hopeful relief from pain, yet now is the time others choose to soften the voice and with ostensibly deep feeling, offer to pray for her.
Possibly there is a carry-over here from the Dark Ages, a time when the practice of medicine was also a practice in the Black Arts. This was very much a part of the ethos in my former religious milieu. Doctors were suspect in most every way, and certainly not to be trusted in life-or-death circumstances. It was apparently feared that any trust placed in the medical profession was a displacement of trust that should have been rightfully held in reverence to a supreme being. It was feared that this misguided trust would show disrespect for said supreme being and probably bring wrath down upon the head of such a reprobate believer.
When I suffered an attack of acute appendicitis in my early twenties, it was put to me by ministers that if I felt that going to a surgeon was more to be desired than staying in my bed and trusting in God through prayer to heal me, then I should go to the medicine men because I had already allowed my faith to slip. Obviously, in the eyes of those nearest and (in a few cases) dearest to me at the time, I could not allow myself to show a lack of faith. I stayed in bed and waited out the storm of fear amid physical pain, and the poisons within my system were eventually overcome by a strong constitution. This was trumpeted as a score for the faith camp, and the fact I am still alive is, naturally, a constant proof to many folks of the power of prayer. The fact that I ceased believing any of that arcane mythology has not, I'm sure, deterred the faithful from their confident belief that I was healed through prayer. The fact that over the past four decades, practically all of those faithful have turned to the Black Arts for medical help and now do so without any concern for showing a lack of faith, doesn't seem to lessen the hoopla over the importance of praying for someone's healing. Call the doctor but call for back-up.
Again I say, the appreciation I feel for anyone's stated humanism and thoughtfulness during this time of looking for relief for my wife's pain, is a deep and real appreciation. The idea that someone cares enough to offer to pray for her is sincerely well-received, by both of us. The fact that I would be just as receptive and thankful to a person who, with apparent sincerity, were to tell me he would send over a pet Unicorn to visit my wife in the hospital, should not cast doubt on my appreciation. Any and all positive thoughts of others will be well received. If a friend calls to say his or her deceased grandmother was a devout woman who is no doubt still practicing her healing touch from the other side and will visit my wife (waiting outside the virtual door while the Unicorn is near the bed), I will thank the friend sincerely. Should a Native American acquaintance tell me his father is a hatathali who will gladly sing the Healing Way ceremony on behalf of my wife, I will sincerely thank the man for the thoughtful kindness.
And while I am hopeful that these words are light and perhaps a little humorous, I ask you to consider something that will help you understand my utter sincerity in the whole matter.
If you are of any religious persuasion other than Catholic, and upon the imminent death of a loved one some Catholic friend offers to send over his priest to administer last rites, how would you handle the offer? Aside from the fact the priest probably wouldn't do it for a non-Catholic, how would you feel about the offer itself? Might you accept as a way of hedging your bets on behalf of the loved one? Might you accept out of a dull surprise by the offer and not wanting to seem ungrateful? Would you fear it might be offensive to the God you worship (or sort of believe in), to have this sudden relationship with a particularly strange concept? Would you be so unkind as to laugh at your Catholic friend for even suggesting such an outlandish idea?
And if you are a Catholic, consider how unimportant anyone else's opinion would be at that moment. You're calling the priest.
In other words, whatever anyone believes is personal and important. Personally, I'm a humanist. I believe it's important to respect others for their depth of motivation, not their method of expressing it.
Please bear in mind through all of this that I am not an Atheist. I have no horse in the race toward an afterlife and no personal concern one way or another as to whether there might be a supreme being anywhere. I observe pain and misfortune befalling good people and I see health and prosperity heaped upon evil people. Human life convinces me of only one thing: we're all in it together. Being good to one another seems to me the best way to get through it. Trying to convince or force others to believe as we do is futile. Tiring, too. And it would be quite easy for me to be irritated by all the offers of prayer for my wife because I see praying as a completely meaningless waste of time. However, the positive thought it requires for someone to actually make this meaningless effort is itself, meaningful!
So, thanks for your prayers. And your Unicorn or Shaman or deceased grandmother visits. My deep respect is always paid to anyone with the humanity to be considerate of others.
UPDATE - - Sunday, 10/02 She's home and gaining strength quickly. Already I've been told once that it was "due to all those prayers." My respect goes to a top-notch surgeon, to medical science, and to a strong lady who maintains a positive attitude about the desire to live and thrive.
Perhaps - just perhaps - some great years of better health and a new lease-on-life will be experienced by this lovely lady in her early sixties who has not known good health since her mid-teens. That's when the migraine headaches began, which have increased in number and severity over the years. Because her mother who suffered similarly, was freed from migraines upon menopause, the hope was always there that at least relief was on the way. But through many years of a debilitating menopausal marathon, my wife not only did not lose the headaches, but has found them ever more difficult and life-altering in recent years. Today, it's a rare morning when she awakes and can fully open her eyes to the light. There is that slight but overwhelming hope in my own mind that tomorrow's necessary procedure may also finally bring the relief her mother's experience promised.
But this writing began this morning because of something the surgery has unleashed: a mega prayer fest.
Amazing to me how many people, both close associates and mere acquaintances, have vowed to pray for her. Not amazing they think that much of her, because she is a wonderful person, but amazing that this concept of saying words or forcing thoughts of some reverential type toward the open sky is offered in an effort to be of some kind of help to my wife.
Okay, before you simply stop reading, at least try to find a way to stay with it for a while. I'm not trying to change anyone's thinking here, I'm simply revealing my own. You might consider these words of mine as perhaps a bit of fluff meant to entertain, maybe similar to little grist-for-the-mill thoughts offered by the likes of the retiring Andy Rooney, or light-hearted humorous jabs more in the vein of a Garrison Keillor. Any way you want to read this to make it palatable is fine; at least I hope you'll try. And keep in mind all along that I very much appreciate the thoughtfulness and concern these folks are revealing by offers to pray. I thank them sincerely each time. They need not know I am thanking them for the humanity they are expressing, not for the praying. It is thoughtful and considerate of them to pray.
But why, first of all, would so many thoughtful people suddenly want to pray for this lady who has been worthy of everyone's compassion for half a century of poor health? Is it that surgery is a big scary unknown so it's obviously time to get serious about calling out to a higher power? To be fair though, maybe some of them have been doing this over the last many months as they have seen her in pain while her organs rebelled inside her, preventing her beloved outings on the golf course, making even walking a terribly difficult activity. She has been so excited to finally get to this stage of hopeful relief from pain, yet now is the time others choose to soften the voice and with ostensibly deep feeling, offer to pray for her.
Possibly there is a carry-over here from the Dark Ages, a time when the practice of medicine was also a practice in the Black Arts. This was very much a part of the ethos in my former religious milieu. Doctors were suspect in most every way, and certainly not to be trusted in life-or-death circumstances. It was apparently feared that any trust placed in the medical profession was a displacement of trust that should have been rightfully held in reverence to a supreme being. It was feared that this misguided trust would show disrespect for said supreme being and probably bring wrath down upon the head of such a reprobate believer.
When I suffered an attack of acute appendicitis in my early twenties, it was put to me by ministers that if I felt that going to a surgeon was more to be desired than staying in my bed and trusting in God through prayer to heal me, then I should go to the medicine men because I had already allowed my faith to slip. Obviously, in the eyes of those nearest and (in a few cases) dearest to me at the time, I could not allow myself to show a lack of faith. I stayed in bed and waited out the storm of fear amid physical pain, and the poisons within my system were eventually overcome by a strong constitution. This was trumpeted as a score for the faith camp, and the fact I am still alive is, naturally, a constant proof to many folks of the power of prayer. The fact that I ceased believing any of that arcane mythology has not, I'm sure, deterred the faithful from their confident belief that I was healed through prayer. The fact that over the past four decades, practically all of those faithful have turned to the Black Arts for medical help and now do so without any concern for showing a lack of faith, doesn't seem to lessen the hoopla over the importance of praying for someone's healing. Call the doctor but call for back-up.
Again I say, the appreciation I feel for anyone's stated humanism and thoughtfulness during this time of looking for relief for my wife's pain, is a deep and real appreciation. The idea that someone cares enough to offer to pray for her is sincerely well-received, by both of us. The fact that I would be just as receptive and thankful to a person who, with apparent sincerity, were to tell me he would send over a pet Unicorn to visit my wife in the hospital, should not cast doubt on my appreciation. Any and all positive thoughts of others will be well received. If a friend calls to say his or her deceased grandmother was a devout woman who is no doubt still practicing her healing touch from the other side and will visit my wife (waiting outside the virtual door while the Unicorn is near the bed), I will thank the friend sincerely. Should a Native American acquaintance tell me his father is a hatathali who will gladly sing the Healing Way ceremony on behalf of my wife, I will sincerely thank the man for the thoughtful kindness.
And while I am hopeful that these words are light and perhaps a little humorous, I ask you to consider something that will help you understand my utter sincerity in the whole matter.
If you are of any religious persuasion other than Catholic, and upon the imminent death of a loved one some Catholic friend offers to send over his priest to administer last rites, how would you handle the offer? Aside from the fact the priest probably wouldn't do it for a non-Catholic, how would you feel about the offer itself? Might you accept as a way of hedging your bets on behalf of the loved one? Might you accept out of a dull surprise by the offer and not wanting to seem ungrateful? Would you fear it might be offensive to the God you worship (or sort of believe in), to have this sudden relationship with a particularly strange concept? Would you be so unkind as to laugh at your Catholic friend for even suggesting such an outlandish idea?
And if you are a Catholic, consider how unimportant anyone else's opinion would be at that moment. You're calling the priest.
In other words, whatever anyone believes is personal and important. Personally, I'm a humanist. I believe it's important to respect others for their depth of motivation, not their method of expressing it.
Please bear in mind through all of this that I am not an Atheist. I have no horse in the race toward an afterlife and no personal concern one way or another as to whether there might be a supreme being anywhere. I observe pain and misfortune befalling good people and I see health and prosperity heaped upon evil people. Human life convinces me of only one thing: we're all in it together. Being good to one another seems to me the best way to get through it. Trying to convince or force others to believe as we do is futile. Tiring, too. And it would be quite easy for me to be irritated by all the offers of prayer for my wife because I see praying as a completely meaningless waste of time. However, the positive thought it requires for someone to actually make this meaningless effort is itself, meaningful!
So, thanks for your prayers. And your Unicorn or Shaman or deceased grandmother visits. My deep respect is always paid to anyone with the humanity to be considerate of others.
UPDATE - - Sunday, 10/02 She's home and gaining strength quickly. Already I've been told once that it was "due to all those prayers." My respect goes to a top-notch surgeon, to medical science, and to a strong lady who maintains a positive attitude about the desire to live and thrive.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Dumping IKE!
Progress is an uphill battle.
There's no logical reason for progress to be so difficult, except for the fact that some people seem to thrive on being difficult themselves.
In an earlier post, I mentioned that I am a political independent. I think of myself, correctly or not, as an individual with the ability to reason and in possession of a general sense of logic. This whole current flap over the need to get millions of people back to work while the also-obvious need exists to repair our nation's infrastructure, appears to be rather simple. Let the 21st Century WPA begin!
Our current president is in a constant struggle against illogical folks masquerading as legislators. I have to question the motives of those who drag their feet - in fact, drag our entire country to a halt - when their own future interests would be better served by opening their eyes. It must be that many in government have instead opened personal bank accounts and have set up virtual lines of direct deposit from big monied corporations and powerful lobbyists. In other words, their current monetary self-interests outweigh their concern for the possibility that their luxury cars might one day fall through unrepaired bridges. Does it not appear that these legislators are being well paid to fight progress?
Then there's the label: Progressive to deal with. It's often thrust from the lips of ultra-conservatives as though it contains poison or a vile oath. In actual fact, President Obama has never shown himself to be terribly progressive, merely logical in trying to help the masses in our society. I was one Independent who helped elect the man because at least he seemed to hold out the hope of being somewhat progressive, and following the utter destructive previous administration, he offered a huge breath of fresh air. Intelligence alone makes him far more acceptable as a national leader than was the embarrassment and the appearance of ignorance we had to endure for eight years previous.
But really progressive? Would that he were more so and could find a way to bring others along in to a progressive mentality. Our country is in dire need of some dramatic brand of progress. Having the "rich get richer and the poor get poorer" spells regression for a society. That frustration has gone on far too long.
If only our leadership could become as wildly liberal and progressive as former President Eisenhower, we might begin the climb out of the dumps. We need not go all the way back to FDR for an example of rescuing the country from ruin; the respected Republican, Eisenhower, will do just fine. Try to consider what it took for him to push through the outragious spending bill to get the Interstate Highway System established. Just imagine that kind of forceful action in dealing with legislators today! Today, we can't even manage to repair what Ike built!
Today's conservatives would be trying to dump Ike, their own party's flag-bearer, and make him a "one-term-president." He was far more progressive than President Obama has shown himself to be thus far. But to hear the ludicrous rhetoric of the far right in their sound bites on the news, you'd think they are facing some kind of liberal monster. No, I'm afraid what they're fighting against is common sense and decency. What today's House of Representatives actually represents is apparently greed - supporting and enabling the immense greed of huge corporations and wealthy individuals. And almost certainly their own greed. Surely enough loose change falls from those deep pockets into the waiting hands of many legislators to influence their votes. (Why a dedicated investigative reporter hasn't made it a mission to dig into the personal, and hidden, income details of members of Congress, I cannot fathom.) I'd wager that the salaries of many of todays members of congress, salaries that have risen to be quite substantial, are less than the amount they take in under the table. Let the needs of the masses go un-noticed as long as the Golden-egg-producing Geese of Corporate America, Wall Street and Big Oil keep handing out bribes!
Real progress will come only when our nation's willingly duplicit (or sadly ignorant) electorate wakes up and fires those who do not represent the people at large. We can UN-elect those whose self interests are placed before public needs. Easy to spot these people; they've sworn an oath to never raise taxes. They pass this off as a good idea and get away with it because it's easy to hoodwink a populace who quite often can't see the big picture. Never raise taxes is an aluring mantra, but it's really a sworn protection for the rich, and there can be little reason to protect those outrageous incomes unless it trickles down to lawmakers' bank accounts. It doesn't trickle into yours or mine. The concept of never increasing taxes is ignorant and destructive. Progress is the victim.
I miss Ike.
There's no logical reason for progress to be so difficult, except for the fact that some people seem to thrive on being difficult themselves.
In an earlier post, I mentioned that I am a political independent. I think of myself, correctly or not, as an individual with the ability to reason and in possession of a general sense of logic. This whole current flap over the need to get millions of people back to work while the also-obvious need exists to repair our nation's infrastructure, appears to be rather simple. Let the 21st Century WPA begin!
Our current president is in a constant struggle against illogical folks masquerading as legislators. I have to question the motives of those who drag their feet - in fact, drag our entire country to a halt - when their own future interests would be better served by opening their eyes. It must be that many in government have instead opened personal bank accounts and have set up virtual lines of direct deposit from big monied corporations and powerful lobbyists. In other words, their current monetary self-interests outweigh their concern for the possibility that their luxury cars might one day fall through unrepaired bridges. Does it not appear that these legislators are being well paid to fight progress?
Then there's the label: Progressive to deal with. It's often thrust from the lips of ultra-conservatives as though it contains poison or a vile oath. In actual fact, President Obama has never shown himself to be terribly progressive, merely logical in trying to help the masses in our society. I was one Independent who helped elect the man because at least he seemed to hold out the hope of being somewhat progressive, and following the utter destructive previous administration, he offered a huge breath of fresh air. Intelligence alone makes him far more acceptable as a national leader than was the embarrassment and the appearance of ignorance we had to endure for eight years previous.
But really progressive? Would that he were more so and could find a way to bring others along in to a progressive mentality. Our country is in dire need of some dramatic brand of progress. Having the "rich get richer and the poor get poorer" spells regression for a society. That frustration has gone on far too long.
If only our leadership could become as wildly liberal and progressive as former President Eisenhower, we might begin the climb out of the dumps. We need not go all the way back to FDR for an example of rescuing the country from ruin; the respected Republican, Eisenhower, will do just fine. Try to consider what it took for him to push through the outragious spending bill to get the Interstate Highway System established. Just imagine that kind of forceful action in dealing with legislators today! Today, we can't even manage to repair what Ike built!
Today's conservatives would be trying to dump Ike, their own party's flag-bearer, and make him a "one-term-president." He was far more progressive than President Obama has shown himself to be thus far. But to hear the ludicrous rhetoric of the far right in their sound bites on the news, you'd think they are facing some kind of liberal monster. No, I'm afraid what they're fighting against is common sense and decency. What today's House of Representatives actually represents is apparently greed - supporting and enabling the immense greed of huge corporations and wealthy individuals. And almost certainly their own greed. Surely enough loose change falls from those deep pockets into the waiting hands of many legislators to influence their votes. (Why a dedicated investigative reporter hasn't made it a mission to dig into the personal, and hidden, income details of members of Congress, I cannot fathom.) I'd wager that the salaries of many of todays members of congress, salaries that have risen to be quite substantial, are less than the amount they take in under the table. Let the needs of the masses go un-noticed as long as the Golden-egg-producing Geese of Corporate America, Wall Street and Big Oil keep handing out bribes!
Real progress will come only when our nation's willingly duplicit (or sadly ignorant) electorate wakes up and fires those who do not represent the people at large. We can UN-elect those whose self interests are placed before public needs. Easy to spot these people; they've sworn an oath to never raise taxes. They pass this off as a good idea and get away with it because it's easy to hoodwink a populace who quite often can't see the big picture. Never raise taxes is an aluring mantra, but it's really a sworn protection for the rich, and there can be little reason to protect those outrageous incomes unless it trickles down to lawmakers' bank accounts. It doesn't trickle into yours or mine. The concept of never increasing taxes is ignorant and destructive. Progress is the victim.
I miss Ike.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Are White People Death Mongers?
Extremely interesting information has come out relating to the Georgia death-row case in the news.
First of all, the fact that Georgia authorities were willing to wait to hear what the US Supreme Court had to say in the matter was a nice surprise. They didn't have to wait by law, but they waited. Another surprise was the letter offered by multiple former - and current - correctional officers and wardens pleading for caution. Their own consciences have been damaged and a great deal of loss of sleep has been suffered by this collective group who have executed people who might possibly have been innocent.
What struck me more though, were the surprising cultural issues and glaring differences between attitudes of Blacks and Whites concerning our execution practices themselves.
The man being executed in Texas at the very time of the Georgia case's national attention this week, was a white man who confessed his guilt and was known by others to have been guilty without question. And the crime of dragging a black man unmercifully behind a vehicle for miles, actually beyond causing death, going on until the body was decapitated - this heinous crime would seem to shout for the ultimate penalty. Yet it has been reported that the [black] family of the murdered man had begged the court not to execute this despicable [white] human who murdered their loved one in such an unimaginably horrifying way. They said killing someone could not lessen their loss.
In Mississippi currently another [white] man is unquestionably guilty of murdering a [black] man, and again the family of the deceased has made the case for not taking another life in an attempt to lessen their loss; their statement was rational and powerful. So much so that Mississippi authorities are considering taking the death penalty off the table. The family's prepared statement was an amazing document that expressed so much pain and suffering caused by the crime but at the same time conveyed that there would actually be new pain still to come for these sufferers if they were to see the murderer executed.
In both of these cases, there was no question of guilt; there was only the question of penalty. And in both cases, the black sufferers of loss asked the courts to not take a life for a life, but to allow the clearly guilty white criminal to live.
In the case in Georgia, a black man has spent over twenty years in prison, on death row, his execution set now for the fourth time, and all along he has been pleading innocence of the crime. [This is, of course, itself an extremely rare event; the truly guilty practically always unburden themselves at some point and admit to the crime, especially over a long period of imprisonment. This man refuses even to eat a "last meal" each time the execution is imminent; he is that strong still in proclaiming his innocence.]
Seven of the "witnesses" against this man have recanted in recent years, some admitted to lying, under pressure from police, about what they saw. Of only two remaining "witnesses" from the trial, one was also a suspect in the crime and his testimony against the accused helped remove himself from suspicion. Three members of the jury from that trial say they could now not find the accused guilty due to the lack of sufficient circumstantial evidence. It had been the weight of nine "witnesses" at the time that made the case; at least seven of them really should not have counted at all.
Amid all the above extenuating circumstances, the white family of the deceased have vehemently called for the execution of the black man convicted. One reporter stated that these people are "not blood-thirsty, only justice-thirsty." If this were true, why would they not want, more than anything, to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that the actual murderer is the one being executed? Is it enough for these folks to know that somebody, in this instance, maybe even important that some black somebody, is paying the ultimate penalty for the death of their loved one?
If ever there were a case in which a family suffering loss would want to show the utmost patience in order to be assured of the guilt or innocence of an accused murderer, it seems this would be that case. It would appear that if the racial variables were reversed here, at the very least the deceased's family would be asking the court to please not execute until absolutely sure of guilt; if the examples of the attitudes of black families mentioned in other cases are any indication of cultural differences involved, the plea would likely be to not execute at all - to not take a life for a life.
As a member of the segment of the human race called white, I am culturally embarrassed by the proceedings in Georgia. I was similarly culturally embarrassed recently by the debate crowd's eruption in applause and hoots of approval for the many executions carried out under the administration of the governor of Texas. My guess is that the audience was heavily predominant in white attendees.
Here's another cultural slant that bothers me, though there is no space to cover it properly in this post, so it will need further rumination later. In the raucous response to the record of a far-right governor, especially this particular governor who also boasts of a great following by ultra-religious conservatives, there is a strange dichotomy of attitudes. Those same folks who gladly witness executions and apparently want more, will do practically anything to see that no abortion is ever allowed in our country! In other words, the medically approved and directed method of preventing an embryo from even becoming a human being is never to be sanctioned by religious people. But directing the execution of a fully functioning human being - because he is thought to be guilty of some terrible crime, whether or not it's provable beyond any shadow of doubt - that kind of killing is justified. And apparently applauded!
As I said in an earlier post, I am eternally confused!
An infuriating P.S. - this morning's news tells us the execution was carried out late last night.
First of all, the fact that Georgia authorities were willing to wait to hear what the US Supreme Court had to say in the matter was a nice surprise. They didn't have to wait by law, but they waited. Another surprise was the letter offered by multiple former - and current - correctional officers and wardens pleading for caution. Their own consciences have been damaged and a great deal of loss of sleep has been suffered by this collective group who have executed people who might possibly have been innocent.
What struck me more though, were the surprising cultural issues and glaring differences between attitudes of Blacks and Whites concerning our execution practices themselves.
The man being executed in Texas at the very time of the Georgia case's national attention this week, was a white man who confessed his guilt and was known by others to have been guilty without question. And the crime of dragging a black man unmercifully behind a vehicle for miles, actually beyond causing death, going on until the body was decapitated - this heinous crime would seem to shout for the ultimate penalty. Yet it has been reported that the [black] family of the murdered man had begged the court not to execute this despicable [white] human who murdered their loved one in such an unimaginably horrifying way. They said killing someone could not lessen their loss.
In Mississippi currently another [white] man is unquestionably guilty of murdering a [black] man, and again the family of the deceased has made the case for not taking another life in an attempt to lessen their loss; their statement was rational and powerful. So much so that Mississippi authorities are considering taking the death penalty off the table. The family's prepared statement was an amazing document that expressed so much pain and suffering caused by the crime but at the same time conveyed that there would actually be new pain still to come for these sufferers if they were to see the murderer executed.
In both of these cases, there was no question of guilt; there was only the question of penalty. And in both cases, the black sufferers of loss asked the courts to not take a life for a life, but to allow the clearly guilty white criminal to live.
In the case in Georgia, a black man has spent over twenty years in prison, on death row, his execution set now for the fourth time, and all along he has been pleading innocence of the crime. [This is, of course, itself an extremely rare event; the truly guilty practically always unburden themselves at some point and admit to the crime, especially over a long period of imprisonment. This man refuses even to eat a "last meal" each time the execution is imminent; he is that strong still in proclaiming his innocence.]
Seven of the "witnesses" against this man have recanted in recent years, some admitted to lying, under pressure from police, about what they saw. Of only two remaining "witnesses" from the trial, one was also a suspect in the crime and his testimony against the accused helped remove himself from suspicion. Three members of the jury from that trial say they could now not find the accused guilty due to the lack of sufficient circumstantial evidence. It had been the weight of nine "witnesses" at the time that made the case; at least seven of them really should not have counted at all.
Amid all the above extenuating circumstances, the white family of the deceased have vehemently called for the execution of the black man convicted. One reporter stated that these people are "not blood-thirsty, only justice-thirsty." If this were true, why would they not want, more than anything, to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that the actual murderer is the one being executed? Is it enough for these folks to know that somebody, in this instance, maybe even important that some black somebody, is paying the ultimate penalty for the death of their loved one?
If ever there were a case in which a family suffering loss would want to show the utmost patience in order to be assured of the guilt or innocence of an accused murderer, it seems this would be that case. It would appear that if the racial variables were reversed here, at the very least the deceased's family would be asking the court to please not execute until absolutely sure of guilt; if the examples of the attitudes of black families mentioned in other cases are any indication of cultural differences involved, the plea would likely be to not execute at all - to not take a life for a life.
As a member of the segment of the human race called white, I am culturally embarrassed by the proceedings in Georgia. I was similarly culturally embarrassed recently by the debate crowd's eruption in applause and hoots of approval for the many executions carried out under the administration of the governor of Texas. My guess is that the audience was heavily predominant in white attendees.
Here's another cultural slant that bothers me, though there is no space to cover it properly in this post, so it will need further rumination later. In the raucous response to the record of a far-right governor, especially this particular governor who also boasts of a great following by ultra-religious conservatives, there is a strange dichotomy of attitudes. Those same folks who gladly witness executions and apparently want more, will do practically anything to see that no abortion is ever allowed in our country! In other words, the medically approved and directed method of preventing an embryo from even becoming a human being is never to be sanctioned by religious people. But directing the execution of a fully functioning human being - because he is thought to be guilty of some terrible crime, whether or not it's provable beyond any shadow of doubt - that kind of killing is justified. And apparently applauded!
As I said in an earlier post, I am eternally confused!
An infuriating P.S. - this morning's news tells us the execution was carried out late last night.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Tolerance
My wife and I watched a televised movie last night. The subject of the 1987 film was the harsh realities faced by gay lovers a century ago. In this case, the "scene of the crime" was jolly olde England and the players were of that class of young aristocrats who went off to Oxford and Cambridge, some already called "lords" and most already adept at pontificating on many erudite matters. These were privileged fellows whose futures were not in any peril from without; their families owned land and they were heirs to large fortunes, assumed to become men of weighty influence in society.
The two star protagonists were innocent boy-men who found in each other more fundamental interest and excitement than either could see in females. Their accumulating commonalities only increased their deep feelings for each other during their years of sharing close quarters and activities while in the colleges. Upon receipt of diplomas and acceptance into their rightful positions in law and finance, respectively, they maintained the old college-chum demeanor in the eyes of family and all who knew them, but they seethed with suppressed desire for each other. In rare moments of total privacy they confessed profound love for one another, but they cautiously avoided showing this unspeakable corruption in the presence of others. They also, owing to the intense fear on the part of one of the pair, managed to keep their love on the emotional level and never allowed the physical fulfilment to progress beyond the infrequent stealthy kiss.
A noted friend and schoolmate of the pair had been accused and convicted of moral corruption and of encouraging this sin among members of his inferiors (the working class). He was sentenced to six months imprisonment with hard labor, and told in a terse, matter-of-fact statement from the presiding judge that he would be disbarred and had already lost all hope of a political career he was sure to have enjoyed.
Only a movie, right?
Naturally, dramatic license is taken with any subject of a film, but as to the realistic depth of the subject at hand, it was probably handled with care and kept close to the original story of real events. A hundred years on, we don't any longer send gay people to prison for revealing their desire for others of the same sex. And the western world doesn't t kill homosexuals as some societies still do. But do we actually show tolerance?
Generally, I have eschewed the term "tolerance" because of its connotation of judgment. The context seemed to be that decent people are put upon to tolerate someone who is not desirable among us or who has shown himself less than totally respectable.
This morning I had to look up Webster's definition of the word. The first meaning of tolerate is "allow or permit," which I would think falls into a scenario such as this: a horse owner boards a fine horse but seldom goes riding, therefore expects a groomer to take care of the horse. He finds that the hired hand is bringing a date out to ride at least once every week without permission, but since it's good for the horse to be exercised, the owner "tolerates" this behavior.
The second meaning of tolerate (where ownership, therefore "permission," is not involved), is "to recognize and respect without necessarily agreeing." [Emphasis mine] And I go back to my earlier comment. The meaning had seemed to me to be a forced acceptance of something undesirable, and that's basically the meaning tacitly understood by society even in today's "enlightened" world of the twenty-first century.
My neighborhood grudgingly accepts the clearly undesirable gay couple next door to me. There is no respect for them nor even recognition of their marriage, save from my wife and me and perhaps someone whose gracious tolerance we don't yet know. I have to field many snide remarks and cruel barbs hurled at the two elderly gentlemen by cowardly critics. Due to my proximity to the offensive couple, others assume I am the most onerously confronted by their disgraceful way of life. The shallow religious bigots all around me like to think I am one of them and therefore I would naturally be unhappy that I'm forced to live near the undesirables. In fact, though these two particular gay men are not the neat and tidy types we typically see and appreciate for their uncanny ability to raise property values in Palm Springs, they are okay people and good neighbors. They are far less offensive to me in most every way than are the aforementioned good people of my little village.
So I must accept the sad truth that for many years ahead, in order to prevent becoming an offense myself I will need to walk that fine line of quiet neutrality. The simple act of making a strong defense of my decent near neighbors would offend the many, and if I were to join in the crude jokes and ignorant laughter offered by the many, I would offend myself, my next-door friends and the whole cosmos. Oh, if some specific need were to arise in which my gay friends needed my protection, I would accept the mantle of social pariah in my neighborhood in order to do the right thing. But for now, it behooves me to avoid over-reacting, to simply respect these two men quietly and avoid jumping onto a soapbox to try to convince the good people around us that ignorance and hate need to fall away eventually into the distant past.
This is my treatise today on gay-bashing, on the lack of tolerance and the general misunderstanding and misuse of the word. Racism will have to await another diatribe!
The two star protagonists were innocent boy-men who found in each other more fundamental interest and excitement than either could see in females. Their accumulating commonalities only increased their deep feelings for each other during their years of sharing close quarters and activities while in the colleges. Upon receipt of diplomas and acceptance into their rightful positions in law and finance, respectively, they maintained the old college-chum demeanor in the eyes of family and all who knew them, but they seethed with suppressed desire for each other. In rare moments of total privacy they confessed profound love for one another, but they cautiously avoided showing this unspeakable corruption in the presence of others. They also, owing to the intense fear on the part of one of the pair, managed to keep their love on the emotional level and never allowed the physical fulfilment to progress beyond the infrequent stealthy kiss.
A noted friend and schoolmate of the pair had been accused and convicted of moral corruption and of encouraging this sin among members of his inferiors (the working class). He was sentenced to six months imprisonment with hard labor, and told in a terse, matter-of-fact statement from the presiding judge that he would be disbarred and had already lost all hope of a political career he was sure to have enjoyed.
Only a movie, right?
Naturally, dramatic license is taken with any subject of a film, but as to the realistic depth of the subject at hand, it was probably handled with care and kept close to the original story of real events. A hundred years on, we don't any longer send gay people to prison for revealing their desire for others of the same sex. And the western world doesn't t kill homosexuals as some societies still do. But do we actually show tolerance?
Generally, I have eschewed the term "tolerance" because of its connotation of judgment. The context seemed to be that decent people are put upon to tolerate someone who is not desirable among us or who has shown himself less than totally respectable.
This morning I had to look up Webster's definition of the word. The first meaning of tolerate is "allow or permit," which I would think falls into a scenario such as this: a horse owner boards a fine horse but seldom goes riding, therefore expects a groomer to take care of the horse. He finds that the hired hand is bringing a date out to ride at least once every week without permission, but since it's good for the horse to be exercised, the owner "tolerates" this behavior.
The second meaning of tolerate (where ownership, therefore "permission," is not involved), is "to recognize and respect without necessarily agreeing." [Emphasis mine] And I go back to my earlier comment. The meaning had seemed to me to be a forced acceptance of something undesirable, and that's basically the meaning tacitly understood by society even in today's "enlightened" world of the twenty-first century.
My neighborhood grudgingly accepts the clearly undesirable gay couple next door to me. There is no respect for them nor even recognition of their marriage, save from my wife and me and perhaps someone whose gracious tolerance we don't yet know. I have to field many snide remarks and cruel barbs hurled at the two elderly gentlemen by cowardly critics. Due to my proximity to the offensive couple, others assume I am the most onerously confronted by their disgraceful way of life. The shallow religious bigots all around me like to think I am one of them and therefore I would naturally be unhappy that I'm forced to live near the undesirables. In fact, though these two particular gay men are not the neat and tidy types we typically see and appreciate for their uncanny ability to raise property values in Palm Springs, they are okay people and good neighbors. They are far less offensive to me in most every way than are the aforementioned good people of my little village.
So I must accept the sad truth that for many years ahead, in order to prevent becoming an offense myself I will need to walk that fine line of quiet neutrality. The simple act of making a strong defense of my decent near neighbors would offend the many, and if I were to join in the crude jokes and ignorant laughter offered by the many, I would offend myself, my next-door friends and the whole cosmos. Oh, if some specific need were to arise in which my gay friends needed my protection, I would accept the mantle of social pariah in my neighborhood in order to do the right thing. But for now, it behooves me to avoid over-reacting, to simply respect these two men quietly and avoid jumping onto a soapbox to try to convince the good people around us that ignorance and hate need to fall away eventually into the distant past.
This is my treatise today on gay-bashing, on the lack of tolerance and the general misunderstanding and misuse of the word. Racism will have to await another diatribe!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)