Over the course of the past year, The Trophy Wife has become heavily involved in helping Alabama recover from damage suffered through both the tornadoes of last April, 2011, as well as more recent ones that hit in Center Point.
On weekends, I've gone with her to help with cleaning up neighborhoods, or trying to salvage damaged homes, or bringing relief supplies or, in December, delivering Christmas presents to families whose lives had been both literally and figuratively turned upside down.
Occasionally you run into a story that seems just too cruel to be true.
One recent Saturday we worked on helping salvage as much as we could from the home of a lady whose father's house had been hit in Center Point. The roof was completely gone; the stuff stored in the attic had, in many cases, fallen into the main part of the house; a side storage area had been blown completely off its foundation. Everything was soaked.
What made this really hard was that this woman's house had been completely destroyed in the tornados of last April. It's hard to believe one family could have been hit so hard, in such succession, although as I listened I learned that she was hardly alone in this. Other families had had the same thing happen; some had their homes destroyed, rebuilt, and then destroyed again almost as soon as they were finally moved back in.
But this woman's attitude was incredible. She was very clear about what she was really after: family pictures and documents and keepsakes. Some we found buried under debris in the house; some we found while cleaning up "trash" from around the neighborhood.
The other things from the house - furniture, clothes, pots and pans, books, household items - she said, "if it looks like it can be salvaged for a yard sale, salvage it to sell. Otherwise, it's trash."
Now, as a recovering pack rat who has trouble throwing out a wire or even a bent nail because "I just might find a use for it some day," I couldn't imagine how she so easily got to this point. In fact, The Trophy Wife knew I was looking at books that were being thrown in the dumpster, struggling with whether they could be salvaged.
And at times it got difficult for this lady, but each time she started to waiver, she resolutely returned to the instructions, "Clear it out."
"When you lose everything one time like we did last spring,'' she said, "you realize that as long as you got out alive, the rest of it doesn't matter."
This reminded me of a story I heard recently about an American who ministered mostly in China, and had been placed under house arrest. One day, the soldiers came and said, "You can leave for America."
Of course that started a celebration, and the soldiers added, "You can take 200 pounds with you."
They'd been there a number of years, so he and his wife and two children started culling through belongings: books, a typewriter, a vase, certain mementos they'd each collected and just couldn't bear to leave behind.
They started weighing things, taking this off and adding this one, going back and forth, debating this and that until, finally, they had 200 pounds right on the dot.
The soldier said, "Ready to go?"
"Yes."
"Did you weigh everything?"
"Yes."
"You weighed your children?"
"No, we didn't think..."
"Weigh the children,'' they were told.
And just like that, all the stuff - the books and keepsakes and mementos and such - just like that, it all became trash.
Amazing, isn't it?
It happens.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Just because you're a hypochondriac doesn't mean you might not really be sick - some day
I went to the doctor today as a follow-up to my first physical in several years.
When I woke up this morning, knowing I was going to hear the results of all the tests that had been done on me, I couldn't help but think about how routine and ordinary the day was starting out, and started thinking about all the people whose days started just as routine and ordinary, only to go to the doctor and be told something horrible.
You go to bed believing you are completely healthy, that nothing is wrong. You wake up feeling good, get your breakfast, check the weather, maybe read some news reports. You get dressed, think about what you have to do at work, what projects remain to be worked on. Maybe you kiss your wife and say 'good morning' to your kids and wonder about how you're going to pay a bill.
Then you go to the doctor, and suddenly everything changes.
Now, just to be clear, nothing changed for me. For being someone who takes such lousy precautions about my health - who eats bad and doesn't get enough exercise and all that - I'm ridiculously healthy, which I can only say is due to genetics. It certainly isn't due to anything I've done.
But, you may recognize, I'm also a bit of a hypochondriac. Not that I'm always thinking I'm sick, but I'm one of those people that reads or hears about someone with a strange medical condition and I start to think I have symptoms. When I actually feel sick, I don't worry about it; it's when I feel healthy that I'm convinced I have a brain tumor or I'm slowly bleeding to death internally or my kidney has stopped working or my appendix is rupturing.
Now, I come by this honestly. My aunt - my mom's twin sister - displayed similar traits. She was constantly coming by to see my mother when my mother was sick, and looking at my mom's pills, and then deciding that she should take a few of those pills herself 'just in case.' This got to be particularly disconcerting when my mother was going through one of her bouts with cancer. You can imagine the strength of some of the drugs she was taking, that my aunt was helping herself to 'just in case.'
By the way, my aunt outlived my mom by 10 to 15 years, so maybe she was on to something.
I'm always ready, when I go into the doctors' office, for the 'uh-oh' moment. You know, the one where the doctor peers at or probes some part of my body and says, "uh-oh." When I go back for the results of all the blood work and tests, I fully expect him to clear his throat, and suggest I call my wife to join us, so we can go over "options."
Is there any more terrifying word in all of medicine than "options?"
Well, actually, I wouldn't know. I've never been told I have any "options" - other than to lose weight or exercise more or eat better. Usually, the kind of things that wind up being wrong with me - detached retina, torn bicep - leave me with no option except to fix the problem or not.
I once had the reoccurring headaches that my regular doctor couldn't figure out. I had all kinds of tests done, with nothing showing up. Then I went to, I think it was, a neurologist, who heard my symptoms, opened a text book, and showed me the textbook description of what I was saying and the diagnosis. He wrote me a prescription for a pill he said was hardly ever prescribed anymore and so was very cheap, and it worked.
And, I'll admit, there are a few minutes when I'm disappointed after getting a clean bill of health. Not that I want something terrible to be wrong with me, but I keep hoping there is something to explain the little ills I have - the same little ills anyone my age would have - and that there is a pill I can take to fix it: to lose that 10 pounds I need to lose, or bring back recall for names that I forget, or help me realize my life-long dream of playing in the NBA.
Now, all of this is not to belittle those people whose lives are turned upside down by what starts out as a routine visit to the doctor and ends up being anything but routine.
It just struck me how life can be changed so quickly, so simply; how one minute you wake up worrying about breakfast and work and paying bills, but go to bed wondering how your family will be taken care of if those 'options' the doctor offered you don't work.
This is not profound, I know.
If I wanted to be profound, I'd say something like, "none of us knows when life will come to an abrupt end. If you think about it, every moment we're advancing either to heaven or hell."
That's kind of depressing, even for a hypochondriac.
So let's go with this: "You can't change yesterday, but you can ruin today worrying about tomorrow."
On the other hand, it does help pass the time.
When I woke up this morning, knowing I was going to hear the results of all the tests that had been done on me, I couldn't help but think about how routine and ordinary the day was starting out, and started thinking about all the people whose days started just as routine and ordinary, only to go to the doctor and be told something horrible.
You go to bed believing you are completely healthy, that nothing is wrong. You wake up feeling good, get your breakfast, check the weather, maybe read some news reports. You get dressed, think about what you have to do at work, what projects remain to be worked on. Maybe you kiss your wife and say 'good morning' to your kids and wonder about how you're going to pay a bill.
Then you go to the doctor, and suddenly everything changes.
Now, just to be clear, nothing changed for me. For being someone who takes such lousy precautions about my health - who eats bad and doesn't get enough exercise and all that - I'm ridiculously healthy, which I can only say is due to genetics. It certainly isn't due to anything I've done.
But, you may recognize, I'm also a bit of a hypochondriac. Not that I'm always thinking I'm sick, but I'm one of those people that reads or hears about someone with a strange medical condition and I start to think I have symptoms. When I actually feel sick, I don't worry about it; it's when I feel healthy that I'm convinced I have a brain tumor or I'm slowly bleeding to death internally or my kidney has stopped working or my appendix is rupturing.
Now, I come by this honestly. My aunt - my mom's twin sister - displayed similar traits. She was constantly coming by to see my mother when my mother was sick, and looking at my mom's pills, and then deciding that she should take a few of those pills herself 'just in case.' This got to be particularly disconcerting when my mother was going through one of her bouts with cancer. You can imagine the strength of some of the drugs she was taking, that my aunt was helping herself to 'just in case.'
By the way, my aunt outlived my mom by 10 to 15 years, so maybe she was on to something.
I'm always ready, when I go into the doctors' office, for the 'uh-oh' moment. You know, the one where the doctor peers at or probes some part of my body and says, "uh-oh." When I go back for the results of all the blood work and tests, I fully expect him to clear his throat, and suggest I call my wife to join us, so we can go over "options."
Is there any more terrifying word in all of medicine than "options?"
Well, actually, I wouldn't know. I've never been told I have any "options" - other than to lose weight or exercise more or eat better. Usually, the kind of things that wind up being wrong with me - detached retina, torn bicep - leave me with no option except to fix the problem or not.
I once had the reoccurring headaches that my regular doctor couldn't figure out. I had all kinds of tests done, with nothing showing up. Then I went to, I think it was, a neurologist, who heard my symptoms, opened a text book, and showed me the textbook description of what I was saying and the diagnosis. He wrote me a prescription for a pill he said was hardly ever prescribed anymore and so was very cheap, and it worked.
And, I'll admit, there are a few minutes when I'm disappointed after getting a clean bill of health. Not that I want something terrible to be wrong with me, but I keep hoping there is something to explain the little ills I have - the same little ills anyone my age would have - and that there is a pill I can take to fix it: to lose that 10 pounds I need to lose, or bring back recall for names that I forget, or help me realize my life-long dream of playing in the NBA.
Now, all of this is not to belittle those people whose lives are turned upside down by what starts out as a routine visit to the doctor and ends up being anything but routine.
It just struck me how life can be changed so quickly, so simply; how one minute you wake up worrying about breakfast and work and paying bills, but go to bed wondering how your family will be taken care of if those 'options' the doctor offered you don't work.
This is not profound, I know.
If I wanted to be profound, I'd say something like, "none of us knows when life will come to an abrupt end. If you think about it, every moment we're advancing either to heaven or hell."
That's kind of depressing, even for a hypochondriac.
So let's go with this: "You can't change yesterday, but you can ruin today worrying about tomorrow."
On the other hand, it does help pass the time.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Geraldo, 'Woodstein', and rock star reporters
Grandpa Ray! Tell us a story about when you were growing up!
When I was a young man in Journalism school (or "J-school" as it was called), there were two "rock stars'' that influenced me and most of my classmates: Geraldo Rivera, and the two reporters that brought down the Nixon government collectively known as "Woodstein," actually Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein.
Why we admired Woodward and Bernstein was obvious. Two reporters who stumbled upon Watergate, the event that brought about the conviction of so many White House staffers and presidential advisers and ultimately led to the resignation of the President, Richard Nixon.
That seemed to be the ultimate example of the power of the "Fourth Estate," the unofficial fourth wing of the United States' governmental system of checks and balances. A free media is there to be a watch dog on public officials, and no one emerged as more of a watch dog than the Washington Post in the early 1970s.
As for Geraldo - one of the first pop culture stars to be known simply by one name - he was a passionate "journalist" who crossed the line that we were taught was sacrosanct of impartial observer to involved, impassioned story-teller. In class we often made fun of the way Geraldo so obviously took sides in his reporting, but we loved the fact that he didn't sit behind a desk and tell the story, or do his reporting from a nearby media center, but rather put on his fatigues and walked into the middle of whatever story he was "doing." (He "did" stories, rather than 'report' them).
Yes, it was sensational. But it was exciting, too. I always wanted to be a war correspondent along the lines of Ernie Pyle or Michael Herr (an embedded journalist who covered the Vietnam war and wrote a fascinating book called "Dispatches"). Both of those men - and many others like them, but those two were among the most famous - lived with, ate with, slept with, marched with the soldiers they covered, telling the soldiers' story from the front line. Indeed, after Pyle made the European theatre so real for Americans in the way he covered that part of World War II, he turned his attention to the fighting that was still going on in the Pacific (after the surrender of Germany) and was killed in action.
So Woodward and Bernstein and Geraldo became the rock stars of journalism, opening up to many of my generation the idea that not only could we report on the most powerful and famous people in the world, but we could actually join the most powerful and famous people in the world.
This was not new, by any means. People who talk about media as being objective don't know their history. The media in this country has rarely been truly objective. Go back in history and see the way the media attacked even George Washington; how the media abused Andrew Jackson; the influence of editor Horace "Go West Young Man" Greeley in making the New York Tribune the mouth-piece of first the Whig party and then the new Republican Party; and so on.
So what we're seeing now with the proliferation of cable news networks and talk radio shows that barely try to hide their political agendas is not new.
However, this idea of journalists becoming rock stars really took off with Geraldo and the two-headed monster often referred to as "Woodstein" - particularly when Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman played them in the movie "All the President's Men."
Even as I was part of the media for so many years and believed in it and defended it, I worried about it the profession. "Watergate" and Woodward-Bernstein created a position known in every media room as "investigative reporter,'' which too often became little more than a professional bounty hunter in pursuit of the great evil doers of society. The problem with that was/is that there is often not enough evil to go around, so to justify having that position, investigative reporters had to make everything they report sound as if it were going to be the next Watergate.
And too often, reporters moved from the ununofficial "fourth estate'' relationship to the government into something akin to the Secret Police.Unlike real police, however, reporters are not bogged down by due process or legal procedure, and they have the power to indict, prosecute, and convict anyone as long as the story sells papers or generates improved ratings.
I have been part of "investigative teams" that were assigned to look into a story, only to realize there really wasn't a story there after all. But because the paper had invested so many resources (manpower, time, money) into the investigation, we pretty much had to justify ourselves by coming up with something, anything. So we did.
One of my favorite stories occurred during the early days of the internet. I was in sports, and often we'd get these rumors on the internet that went viral. It seemed like everyone was repeating it. I had an editor who told me I needed to write a story about this rumor. I said I had looked into this particular rumor and it was not true. The editor then said I should write a story saying the rumor wasn't true. I laughed and said, "This is great. You want me to write a story about things that aren't true? I can do that all day, every day. I can fill the paper writing about stories that aren't true!"
At that time, to this editor's credit, he realized what I was saying and left the idea alone. But I dare say that these days, that same editor is forced to have his reporters address wide-spread rumors in print or on air because "that's what people are talking about."
Add to that the fact that reporters know they can make their reputation by being the one people talk about, that they can not only report news, but make news, and that makes them famous - mini "Geraldos'' and "Woodsteins."
Which has been and remains the goal of so many J-school graduates since the 1970s.
And just like you have to be wary of politicians who become addicted to power, so do you have to be wary of reporters who seek that kind of power. Because power and recognition is addictive; it makes crack look like caffeine in comparison.
At the same time, I still believe in the necessity of a free and unfettered media. I'd rather have the current system of agenda-led media than a state-controlled media (and yes, I realize some would argue that some of the media appears to have become state-controlled). Because somewhere in the middle of the extremes lies the truth, and "we the people" have a responsibility to educate ourselves - often by reading through the extremes - to decide for ourselves what is true, or at least what we believe to be true.
And, yes, I'd jump at the chance to be something like a war correspondent again, to put myself in the middle of the biggest story to be as close to a neutral observer as I could be. There is nothing, for me, like the rush of confirming and breaking a story and racing to meet deadline, of being the one "in the know."
Because knowledge remains power.
But we all know what power does ....
When I was a young man in Journalism school (or "J-school" as it was called), there were two "rock stars'' that influenced me and most of my classmates: Geraldo Rivera, and the two reporters that brought down the Nixon government collectively known as "Woodstein," actually Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein.
Why we admired Woodward and Bernstein was obvious. Two reporters who stumbled upon Watergate, the event that brought about the conviction of so many White House staffers and presidential advisers and ultimately led to the resignation of the President, Richard Nixon.
That seemed to be the ultimate example of the power of the "Fourth Estate," the unofficial fourth wing of the United States' governmental system of checks and balances. A free media is there to be a watch dog on public officials, and no one emerged as more of a watch dog than the Washington Post in the early 1970s.
As for Geraldo - one of the first pop culture stars to be known simply by one name - he was a passionate "journalist" who crossed the line that we were taught was sacrosanct of impartial observer to involved, impassioned story-teller. In class we often made fun of the way Geraldo so obviously took sides in his reporting, but we loved the fact that he didn't sit behind a desk and tell the story, or do his reporting from a nearby media center, but rather put on his fatigues and walked into the middle of whatever story he was "doing." (He "did" stories, rather than 'report' them).
Yes, it was sensational. But it was exciting, too. I always wanted to be a war correspondent along the lines of Ernie Pyle or Michael Herr (an embedded journalist who covered the Vietnam war and wrote a fascinating book called "Dispatches"). Both of those men - and many others like them, but those two were among the most famous - lived with, ate with, slept with, marched with the soldiers they covered, telling the soldiers' story from the front line. Indeed, after Pyle made the European theatre so real for Americans in the way he covered that part of World War II, he turned his attention to the fighting that was still going on in the Pacific (after the surrender of Germany) and was killed in action.
So Woodward and Bernstein and Geraldo became the rock stars of journalism, opening up to many of my generation the idea that not only could we report on the most powerful and famous people in the world, but we could actually join the most powerful and famous people in the world.
This was not new, by any means. People who talk about media as being objective don't know their history. The media in this country has rarely been truly objective. Go back in history and see the way the media attacked even George Washington; how the media abused Andrew Jackson; the influence of editor Horace "Go West Young Man" Greeley in making the New York Tribune the mouth-piece of first the Whig party and then the new Republican Party; and so on.
So what we're seeing now with the proliferation of cable news networks and talk radio shows that barely try to hide their political agendas is not new.
However, this idea of journalists becoming rock stars really took off with Geraldo and the two-headed monster often referred to as "Woodstein" - particularly when Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman played them in the movie "All the President's Men."
Even as I was part of the media for so many years and believed in it and defended it, I worried about it the profession. "Watergate" and Woodward-Bernstein created a position known in every media room as "investigative reporter,'' which too often became little more than a professional bounty hunter in pursuit of the great evil doers of society. The problem with that was/is that there is often not enough evil to go around, so to justify having that position, investigative reporters had to make everything they report sound as if it were going to be the next Watergate.
And too often, reporters moved from the ununofficial "fourth estate'' relationship to the government into something akin to the Secret Police.Unlike real police, however, reporters are not bogged down by due process or legal procedure, and they have the power to indict, prosecute, and convict anyone as long as the story sells papers or generates improved ratings.
I have been part of "investigative teams" that were assigned to look into a story, only to realize there really wasn't a story there after all. But because the paper had invested so many resources (manpower, time, money) into the investigation, we pretty much had to justify ourselves by coming up with something, anything. So we did.
One of my favorite stories occurred during the early days of the internet. I was in sports, and often we'd get these rumors on the internet that went viral. It seemed like everyone was repeating it. I had an editor who told me I needed to write a story about this rumor. I said I had looked into this particular rumor and it was not true. The editor then said I should write a story saying the rumor wasn't true. I laughed and said, "This is great. You want me to write a story about things that aren't true? I can do that all day, every day. I can fill the paper writing about stories that aren't true!"
At that time, to this editor's credit, he realized what I was saying and left the idea alone. But I dare say that these days, that same editor is forced to have his reporters address wide-spread rumors in print or on air because "that's what people are talking about."
Add to that the fact that reporters know they can make their reputation by being the one people talk about, that they can not only report news, but make news, and that makes them famous - mini "Geraldos'' and "Woodsteins."
Which has been and remains the goal of so many J-school graduates since the 1970s.
And just like you have to be wary of politicians who become addicted to power, so do you have to be wary of reporters who seek that kind of power. Because power and recognition is addictive; it makes crack look like caffeine in comparison.
At the same time, I still believe in the necessity of a free and unfettered media. I'd rather have the current system of agenda-led media than a state-controlled media (and yes, I realize some would argue that some of the media appears to have become state-controlled). Because somewhere in the middle of the extremes lies the truth, and "we the people" have a responsibility to educate ourselves - often by reading through the extremes - to decide for ourselves what is true, or at least what we believe to be true.
And, yes, I'd jump at the chance to be something like a war correspondent again, to put myself in the middle of the biggest story to be as close to a neutral observer as I could be. There is nothing, for me, like the rush of confirming and breaking a story and racing to meet deadline, of being the one "in the know."
Because knowledge remains power.
But we all know what power does ....
Sunday, February 19, 2012
The off-season of Christianity
"Preach the Word."
Because of a significant youth minister I was blessed to have in my life while in high school, those words became something of a catch phrase for me and my friends in our church youth group. A guy named Dan DeHaan came in and taught a lot of us not only to love studying the Bible, but taught us how to study - along with encouraging us in how to live out our faith.
Even after Dan moved on from the church I attended, we'd occasionally stay in touch. He once led a weekend retreat at the college I attended, and happened to be teaching from 2 Timothy. When he got to the phrase "Preach the Word" my ears perked up like a dog hearing his masters' voice. My head snapped up and he was looking at me and gave me a wink.
Dan had a major impact on a lot of people, young and old, particularly around the Atlanta, Ga., area where I grew up. He died in a tragic plane crash when he was only 33 years old. His funeral packed the sanctuary of the old First Baptist Church in downtown Atlanta with people who had been impacted by him in some way - from professional athletes to musicians to just guys like me.
It was tragic, because when Dan was buried, "the Word" was buried with him.
------------------------
A lot of football fans find themselves captivated by watching Tim Tebow play football.
Built like a linebacker with that big ol' square head, he's awkward for a quarterback in almost everything he does, yet I find when he's playing I can't take my eyes off him.
A most unlikely-looking NFL quarterback, Tebow is known for his almost guileless manner, a humility in his words and manner that attracts people. There is no mistaking his dedication to God, his love for Jesus Christ, and his unique ability to get people talking about Christianity.
It's not unlike the current NBA phenom, Jeremy Lin. His story is even more unlikely than Tebow in that he played college ball at Harvard, which is far more likely to produce guys who own NBA teams rather than play for them. Undrafted, cut from at least two NBA teams, kicked around the D-league, Lin has taken the NBA by storm with the New York Knicks. And the way he incorporates his personal faith in Jesus Christ has caused some to call this Asian-American the "Taiwanese Tebow,'' since he's of Taiwan descent.
I love watching and listening to Tim Tebow and Jeremy Lin and others like them.
I'm not much of an athlete, however. I guess I'm not really a Christian.
------------------------
Ever wonder what it would have been like to follow Jesus around when he was on earth? Not be one the '12' - his closest disciples, but maybe one of the many hundreds or even thousands who also followed. Those people undoubtedly were taught by some of the 12, who were routinely sent out by Jesus to heal and perform miracles. You know there had to be people who really identified not just with Jesus, but with Peter "the Rock" and John "the one Jesus loved'' and James "the son of thunder" and Matthew "the tax collector" ... and Judas.
I've never heard anybody talk about followers of Judas, but you know there had to be. He was one of the 12. He undoubtedly went out and performed the same miracles than the others did in Jesus' name. There must have been people attracted to the crowd following Jesus because of Judas.
Judas would have seemed to have a special place in the inner circle. It seems he was passionate about the poor and coming to their aid, and he seemed to be the one who handled whatever funds the disciples managed to have on hand.
So imagine the disappointment when those people found out Judas had betrayed Jesus. Maybe they felt Judas was a hypocrite, a fraud. And then throw in the fact that even Peter denied Jesus on the night of Jesus' arrest ...
When a guy as close to Jesus as Judas was turns out to be a hypocrite, it makes you wonder if maybe they all weren't hypocrites.
--------------------------------
It's tempting to stop right there, but I can feel some of you rolling your eyes, some of you perhaps getting mad, some of you even thinking "What the heck ...?" You are ready to argue against the idea that "the Word' was buried with Dan DeHaan, or that if you're not a successful athlete you're not a Christian, or that because Judas fell away, why believe in any of it.
But it struck me that many times, I do act that way. I get disappointed when some visible Christian turns out to be cheating on his faith and it makes me want to hide. It's only natural to measure myself against certain people and, realizing how short I measure up, want to stay quiet. And who among us hasn't felt helpless to go on when someone who has lead us and encouraged us and taught us is suddenly gone?
In the same passage where Paul tells young Timothy (in 2 Timothy 4) to "preach the word" he goes on to say "in season and out of season." Sometimes it can feel like it's really out of season to "preach the word" - particularly when a Christian leader you looked up lets you down, or when you don't seem to measure up to many of the Christians who have such a great platform from which to share, or when someone who taught you and encouraged you suddenly up and dies, leaving you feeling disappointed and alone.
Yeah, that could be a time when it certainly doesn't seem like the 'season' to be 'preaching the word.'
But you know and I know "the word'' wasn't buried with some guy you many have never heard of named Dan DeHaan, or that I am not a Christian because I'm not an NFL quarterback or NBA point guard, or that all followers of Christ are hypocrites and deceivers just because someone with the credentials of Judas was.
No, the message has always been more important than the messengers.
Don't get me wrong - I know some people seem to be more gifted than others. But I also think that's from our limited human perspective; I don't imagine God sitting up there creating some for column 'A' (quarterbacks, actors, evangelists, singers, millionaire businessmen), some for column 'B' (so-called "regular'' people) and some for column 'C' (third world peasants class who will be lucky just to hear the Gospel).
I believe God values us all equally, and one day we just might be surprised to find that in the kingdom of heaven, that third-world peasant had as much or more influence as the pop culture star Christian.
God works through people. No doubt about it. But He also works in spite of people.
Which is good news. Because there are times I am a hypocrite. There are times I don't live what I believe. And there may be times when those people I look up to as having it all together stumble and fall.
When that happens, it doesn't change the truth of the message. Because truth is, well, truth. Nothing can change that.
As someone once said - and you probably know who said it, but it doesn't matter because the truth was there before he said it - our salvation is "by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone."
Which helps us survive deceit and hypocrisy; survive when we don't feel we match up; survive when those we rely on leave us.
We "Preach the Word'' - in season, and out, and do our best "to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth." (1 Timothy 2:15).
Because of a significant youth minister I was blessed to have in my life while in high school, those words became something of a catch phrase for me and my friends in our church youth group. A guy named Dan DeHaan came in and taught a lot of us not only to love studying the Bible, but taught us how to study - along with encouraging us in how to live out our faith.
Even after Dan moved on from the church I attended, we'd occasionally stay in touch. He once led a weekend retreat at the college I attended, and happened to be teaching from 2 Timothy. When he got to the phrase "Preach the Word" my ears perked up like a dog hearing his masters' voice. My head snapped up and he was looking at me and gave me a wink.
Dan had a major impact on a lot of people, young and old, particularly around the Atlanta, Ga., area where I grew up. He died in a tragic plane crash when he was only 33 years old. His funeral packed the sanctuary of the old First Baptist Church in downtown Atlanta with people who had been impacted by him in some way - from professional athletes to musicians to just guys like me.
It was tragic, because when Dan was buried, "the Word" was buried with him.
------------------------
A lot of football fans find themselves captivated by watching Tim Tebow play football.
Built like a linebacker with that big ol' square head, he's awkward for a quarterback in almost everything he does, yet I find when he's playing I can't take my eyes off him.
A most unlikely-looking NFL quarterback, Tebow is known for his almost guileless manner, a humility in his words and manner that attracts people. There is no mistaking his dedication to God, his love for Jesus Christ, and his unique ability to get people talking about Christianity.
It's not unlike the current NBA phenom, Jeremy Lin. His story is even more unlikely than Tebow in that he played college ball at Harvard, which is far more likely to produce guys who own NBA teams rather than play for them. Undrafted, cut from at least two NBA teams, kicked around the D-league, Lin has taken the NBA by storm with the New York Knicks. And the way he incorporates his personal faith in Jesus Christ has caused some to call this Asian-American the "Taiwanese Tebow,'' since he's of Taiwan descent.
I love watching and listening to Tim Tebow and Jeremy Lin and others like them.
I'm not much of an athlete, however. I guess I'm not really a Christian.
------------------------
Ever wonder what it would have been like to follow Jesus around when he was on earth? Not be one the '12' - his closest disciples, but maybe one of the many hundreds or even thousands who also followed. Those people undoubtedly were taught by some of the 12, who were routinely sent out by Jesus to heal and perform miracles. You know there had to be people who really identified not just with Jesus, but with Peter "the Rock" and John "the one Jesus loved'' and James "the son of thunder" and Matthew "the tax collector" ... and Judas.
I've never heard anybody talk about followers of Judas, but you know there had to be. He was one of the 12. He undoubtedly went out and performed the same miracles than the others did in Jesus' name. There must have been people attracted to the crowd following Jesus because of Judas.
Judas would have seemed to have a special place in the inner circle. It seems he was passionate about the poor and coming to their aid, and he seemed to be the one who handled whatever funds the disciples managed to have on hand.
So imagine the disappointment when those people found out Judas had betrayed Jesus. Maybe they felt Judas was a hypocrite, a fraud. And then throw in the fact that even Peter denied Jesus on the night of Jesus' arrest ...
When a guy as close to Jesus as Judas was turns out to be a hypocrite, it makes you wonder if maybe they all weren't hypocrites.
--------------------------------
It's tempting to stop right there, but I can feel some of you rolling your eyes, some of you perhaps getting mad, some of you even thinking "What the heck ...?" You are ready to argue against the idea that "the Word' was buried with Dan DeHaan, or that if you're not a successful athlete you're not a Christian, or that because Judas fell away, why believe in any of it.
But it struck me that many times, I do act that way. I get disappointed when some visible Christian turns out to be cheating on his faith and it makes me want to hide. It's only natural to measure myself against certain people and, realizing how short I measure up, want to stay quiet. And who among us hasn't felt helpless to go on when someone who has lead us and encouraged us and taught us is suddenly gone?
In the same passage where Paul tells young Timothy (in 2 Timothy 4) to "preach the word" he goes on to say "in season and out of season." Sometimes it can feel like it's really out of season to "preach the word" - particularly when a Christian leader you looked up lets you down, or when you don't seem to measure up to many of the Christians who have such a great platform from which to share, or when someone who taught you and encouraged you suddenly up and dies, leaving you feeling disappointed and alone.
Yeah, that could be a time when it certainly doesn't seem like the 'season' to be 'preaching the word.'
But you know and I know "the word'' wasn't buried with some guy you many have never heard of named Dan DeHaan, or that I am not a Christian because I'm not an NFL quarterback or NBA point guard, or that all followers of Christ are hypocrites and deceivers just because someone with the credentials of Judas was.
No, the message has always been more important than the messengers.
Don't get me wrong - I know some people seem to be more gifted than others. But I also think that's from our limited human perspective; I don't imagine God sitting up there creating some for column 'A' (quarterbacks, actors, evangelists, singers, millionaire businessmen), some for column 'B' (so-called "regular'' people) and some for column 'C' (third world peasants class who will be lucky just to hear the Gospel).
I believe God values us all equally, and one day we just might be surprised to find that in the kingdom of heaven, that third-world peasant had as much or more influence as the pop culture star Christian.
God works through people. No doubt about it. But He also works in spite of people.
Which is good news. Because there are times I am a hypocrite. There are times I don't live what I believe. And there may be times when those people I look up to as having it all together stumble and fall.
When that happens, it doesn't change the truth of the message. Because truth is, well, truth. Nothing can change that.
As someone once said - and you probably know who said it, but it doesn't matter because the truth was there before he said it - our salvation is "by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone."
Which helps us survive deceit and hypocrisy; survive when we don't feel we match up; survive when those we rely on leave us.
We "Preach the Word'' - in season, and out, and do our best "to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth." (1 Timothy 2:15).
Saturday, February 18, 2012
A Pause to Think
If you actually like to read this blog of mine, thank you.
I apologize for not blogging as frequently recently as other times. I feel guilty about that, I guess because for years I had deadlines for articles that I had to meet, and it's a habit that's hard to break.
But sometimes life just gets busy, or maybe I just don't like anything that I think I have to say.
This is one of those times.
But I am working on a couple right now that I hope will either entertain, or encourage, or make you think.
I'm doing a lot of reading - just finished a biography of Robert E. Lee, a book about the aftermath of Watergate, a handful of collected sermons by Fred Craddock, a novel by John Gresham. That has caused me to think quite a bit.
I'm starting a collection of essays by Thomas Sowell, a novel by James Patterson, and a book called "The Missing Play from the Playbook" by a former NFL quarterback, coach, and friend of mine named Dave Rader.
And I do a lot of driving. Oh, if only I could translate the thoughts I have while driving into this blog. I'm so brilliant, with such insight, about mile marker 93 along I-65!
But I have taken a pledge not to text and drive, and I assume that includes don't actually write and drive, so I always hope whatever insight and ideas I have will come back to me in time.
Sometimes they do.
Sometimes they do, and I realize they weren't as great as I thought while riding along the highway.
Sometimes they don't come back. That's frustrating.
But if you care, there's more coming. Soon.
And I appreciate the dialogue these things sometimes starts.
Usually the responses are far smarter than whatever I've written, and I'm encouraged, built up, educated, and caused to pause to think.
Thanks. And let's keep the dialogue open.
I apologize for not blogging as frequently recently as other times. I feel guilty about that, I guess because for years I had deadlines for articles that I had to meet, and it's a habit that's hard to break.
But sometimes life just gets busy, or maybe I just don't like anything that I think I have to say.
This is one of those times.
But I am working on a couple right now that I hope will either entertain, or encourage, or make you think.
I'm doing a lot of reading - just finished a biography of Robert E. Lee, a book about the aftermath of Watergate, a handful of collected sermons by Fred Craddock, a novel by John Gresham. That has caused me to think quite a bit.
I'm starting a collection of essays by Thomas Sowell, a novel by James Patterson, and a book called "The Missing Play from the Playbook" by a former NFL quarterback, coach, and friend of mine named Dave Rader.
And I do a lot of driving. Oh, if only I could translate the thoughts I have while driving into this blog. I'm so brilliant, with such insight, about mile marker 93 along I-65!
But I have taken a pledge not to text and drive, and I assume that includes don't actually write and drive, so I always hope whatever insight and ideas I have will come back to me in time.
Sometimes they do.
Sometimes they do, and I realize they weren't as great as I thought while riding along the highway.
Sometimes they don't come back. That's frustrating.
But if you care, there's more coming. Soon.
And I appreciate the dialogue these things sometimes starts.
Usually the responses are far smarter than whatever I've written, and I'm encouraged, built up, educated, and caused to pause to think.
Thanks. And let's keep the dialogue open.
Friday, February 10, 2012
The difference in 'imposing' and 'exposing'
There is always a lot of debate centered around Thomas Jefferson's now-accepted concept of "separation of church and state."
These days it seems like it's used almost equally by people on both sides of the argument: those people who feel that people of faith have no legal right to impose symbols or traditions of their faith into an ever-expanding definition of "government,'' definitions that now include such things as prayer at sporting events or nativity scenes at shopping malls at Christmas; and those people who believe government is trying to interfere with their faith by trying to prohibit prayer and Christmas decorations.
The current presidential primary season has brought a steady stream of commentary from presidential hopefuls talking about the current administrations' 'war on religion,' and indeed (at the time of this writing) the recent effort by the White House to impose governmental morality (an oxymoron if ever there was one) by forcing religious organizations to provide services to employees that go against some of the basic values held by those of that faith.
As a Christian and a Southerner (and hard as it is to believe, those terms are not synonymous), sometimes all I want is for "gummint" - as generations of Southern politicians pronounced the word "government" - to simply leave me the hell alone.
But while reading I Peter again the other night, it occurred to me that attitude was not what the Apostle Paul expected of followers of Christ.
You may disagree, and that's all right. After all, we all know examples of people who believe that once they've "found the truth'' or "seen the light" the are called to separate themselves from "the world."
That idea takes on a lot of different forms: Branch Dividians or Heaven's Gate or the Manson Family or the Forever Family or the Unification Church or Raelians or the Aleph - the list goes on and on.
Those are the extremes. But then we have the Amish - admirable in their faith and consistency, who certainly live lives withdrawn from much of the world around it. Even closer to home, I grew up knowing people who believed women were not to wear make-up or jewelry or cut their hair, and seemed to always go around wearing ankle-length denim skirts that reach their socked-and-tennis shoed feet, while their blouses are long-sleeved and look like they came out of the 1800s. That, too, is a form of separation from the world.
Many even use the same passage in I Peter that I was re-reading, and believe the part that describes believers as "aliens and strangers in the world" means they are to withdraw and live out their lives waiting for Christ's return.
But the same passage goes on to tell believers to "live such good lives among the non-believers that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God ..." It just seems unlikely to me that Peter was telling believers to withdraw from the world while at the same time living lives that unbelievers would see and grudgingly admire.
Peter then goes on to talk about how we're to live in the political arena, the business arena, and in our personal lives. The implication seems to me that we're called to be active in all three in such a way that non-believers see it and are forced to recognize the good that comes from that involvement.
Or, as I heard someone once say, "Don't impose your faith, expose it."
While the framers of the Constitution - descendants or recent escapees from European countries where an organized religion (usually Anglican or Catholic) was synonymous with political power - wanted to create a government that could not force a particular brand of faith down its people's throat, there is also no denying that generations of religious thought and belief - from the Reformation to the First Great Awakening - heavily influenced the framework within which this country's Constitution was shaped.
Ideas like the individual priesthood of the believer and the basic depravity of man led to the creation of a form of government in which every individual was supposed to be equal while acknowledging that because men are prone to do evil, there has to be a system of checks and balances to keep those evil tendencies from dominating.
I Peter says that we're to be visible in the world, to get involved in government and education and culture and be the best citizens and neighbors and family there is.
This whole idea of dividing our lives into the 'secular' and the 'sacred' was unthinkable to the people in the Bible. It would have led to what we'd call dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personalities. It can't be healthy. You live what you believe in every aspect of your life.
So the question is not "how do I make government leave me alone'' but rather "what can I do to influence government, to participate fully in this great experiment framed by the Constitution, to make this country better than it is?"
That is, after all, our right as citizens: to participate. To hear - absolutely to hear - but also not to be afraid to be heard. To try to create an environment that might give all of us a hint, a tease, of what heaven - where Peter says our true citizenship lies - might be like.
Live in such a way that people who don't believe you are right will be forced to admit that there is something different about you that they can't help but admire, even if they don't agree.
And "always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have - but do this with gentleness and respect..."
We don't engage in the political arena to impose our faith, but to expose it.
And believe that just as that faith changed us, it has the power to change the world.
These days it seems like it's used almost equally by people on both sides of the argument: those people who feel that people of faith have no legal right to impose symbols or traditions of their faith into an ever-expanding definition of "government,'' definitions that now include such things as prayer at sporting events or nativity scenes at shopping malls at Christmas; and those people who believe government is trying to interfere with their faith by trying to prohibit prayer and Christmas decorations.
The current presidential primary season has brought a steady stream of commentary from presidential hopefuls talking about the current administrations' 'war on religion,' and indeed (at the time of this writing) the recent effort by the White House to impose governmental morality (an oxymoron if ever there was one) by forcing religious organizations to provide services to employees that go against some of the basic values held by those of that faith.
As a Christian and a Southerner (and hard as it is to believe, those terms are not synonymous), sometimes all I want is for "gummint" - as generations of Southern politicians pronounced the word "government" - to simply leave me the hell alone.
But while reading I Peter again the other night, it occurred to me that attitude was not what the Apostle Paul expected of followers of Christ.
You may disagree, and that's all right. After all, we all know examples of people who believe that once they've "found the truth'' or "seen the light" the are called to separate themselves from "the world."
That idea takes on a lot of different forms: Branch Dividians or Heaven's Gate or the Manson Family or the Forever Family or the Unification Church or Raelians or the Aleph - the list goes on and on.
Those are the extremes. But then we have the Amish - admirable in their faith and consistency, who certainly live lives withdrawn from much of the world around it. Even closer to home, I grew up knowing people who believed women were not to wear make-up or jewelry or cut their hair, and seemed to always go around wearing ankle-length denim skirts that reach their socked-and-tennis shoed feet, while their blouses are long-sleeved and look like they came out of the 1800s. That, too, is a form of separation from the world.
Many even use the same passage in I Peter that I was re-reading, and believe the part that describes believers as "aliens and strangers in the world" means they are to withdraw and live out their lives waiting for Christ's return.
But the same passage goes on to tell believers to "live such good lives among the non-believers that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God ..." It just seems unlikely to me that Peter was telling believers to withdraw from the world while at the same time living lives that unbelievers would see and grudgingly admire.
Peter then goes on to talk about how we're to live in the political arena, the business arena, and in our personal lives. The implication seems to me that we're called to be active in all three in such a way that non-believers see it and are forced to recognize the good that comes from that involvement.
Or, as I heard someone once say, "Don't impose your faith, expose it."
While the framers of the Constitution - descendants or recent escapees from European countries where an organized religion (usually Anglican or Catholic) was synonymous with political power - wanted to create a government that could not force a particular brand of faith down its people's throat, there is also no denying that generations of religious thought and belief - from the Reformation to the First Great Awakening - heavily influenced the framework within which this country's Constitution was shaped.
Ideas like the individual priesthood of the believer and the basic depravity of man led to the creation of a form of government in which every individual was supposed to be equal while acknowledging that because men are prone to do evil, there has to be a system of checks and balances to keep those evil tendencies from dominating.
I Peter says that we're to be visible in the world, to get involved in government and education and culture and be the best citizens and neighbors and family there is.
This whole idea of dividing our lives into the 'secular' and the 'sacred' was unthinkable to the people in the Bible. It would have led to what we'd call dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personalities. It can't be healthy. You live what you believe in every aspect of your life.
So the question is not "how do I make government leave me alone'' but rather "what can I do to influence government, to participate fully in this great experiment framed by the Constitution, to make this country better than it is?"
That is, after all, our right as citizens: to participate. To hear - absolutely to hear - but also not to be afraid to be heard. To try to create an environment that might give all of us a hint, a tease, of what heaven - where Peter says our true citizenship lies - might be like.
Live in such a way that people who don't believe you are right will be forced to admit that there is something different about you that they can't help but admire, even if they don't agree.
And "always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have - but do this with gentleness and respect..."
We don't engage in the political arena to impose our faith, but to expose it.
And believe that just as that faith changed us, it has the power to change the world.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Right to work - or, my life as a 'scab'
When I was in high school and college, I didn't have the good sense to work part-time jobs during the school year or summer jobs that would actually look good on my resume or help me with my future career. I, in retrospect very stupidly, worked mainly construction jobs, primarily because my father worked for a steel company that supplied reinforcing steel to job sites, giving him good connections for me to get hired.
It led to some interesting jobs. One time I was on a cement crew, building curbs, gutters, and sidewalks for the company that was developing much of the industrial area known as Fulton Industrial Park in western Fulton County in Atlanta, Ga.
Another time I worked on the construction of 13-story building - not exactly a 'high rise' by Atlanta standards, but tall. They didn't quite know what to do with me on this job, because it was a union job and I was unskilled labor. I could, for example, pull nails but couldn't drive them (only carpentors' union members could drive nails); I could carry equipment for creating cinder block walls, but I could neither participate in the mixing of the concrete (despite my prior experience) nor the stacking or unstacking of concrete blocks, since that was for the masons' union.
Finally, they put me on what, at the time, was a job I enjoyed. On this site, they put together the forms for each floor on the ground (basically the support for the next floor of the building before they poured the concrete to create the actual floor), and then lifted that form in place by crane. They needed someone to ride the form into place in order to control and then release the straps once the crane had placed the next form (or floor) in place. That was my job, and it was really fun as the building got higher. The crane operator had a reputation for being crazy, and I think he liked to swing the floor while I was on it just to see me scramble to keep my balance. But when you're 18 years old, swinging seven or eight stories off the ground on a floating platform was fun.
However, because this was a union job, I was required to be in a union. My only option was the Common Labor Union, for 'unskilled' workers. I avoided the union man as long as I could, but one day he caught me with the question, "How do you stand with the union?" I paid the initial fee that started the process to being a full fledged member, but didn't want to start paying monthly dues because I was trying to save money for college.
I'd become what I thought was pretty good friends with this one carpenter - an apprentice actually. He'd been a Sears Appliance salesman who lost his job, so he joined the carpenters' union and was doing his apprenticeship on this job. I'd been working around wood all my life (my Dad's hobby was building, and he later started his own remodeling company), and I would often help this guy with the machinery and making proper cuts and even, on occasion, driving a nail when it was in a space he couldn't get to.
One day he was talking about the union, and I mentioned I hadn't joined the union. He looked at me in surprise, threw down his hammer, and walked over and said something to another guy, who threw down his hammer, and before I knew it, the entire work force of this construction site walked off the job.
"What happened?" I asked the foreman who had hired me.
"You're a scab,'' he said. "They won't work with you. They've shut down the jobsite."
"What do I do?" I asked.
He thought a minute, then said, "You're going back to school in - what? Three weeks? I'll pay you for two and you just go on home."
Once he told the union organizer I'd been let go, everyone went back to work.
I thought that was all pretty silly. But let me also say I worked another job - putting up billboards in rural Georgia (a company that led to my being involved in an exorcism, which I wrote about here) - that needed to be organized. The workers there were asked to do crazy things by management, sometimes even illegal, and weren't really paid as well as they should have been.
The concept of "right to work" is in the news a lot these days, because of unions trying to block Boeing's move to South Carolina or Gov. Mitch Daniels trying to make Indiana a 'right to work' state. Counting Indiana, there are 23 "Right to Work'' states in the union, basically in the South and Midwest. The northeast and far west are almost all "Non-Right to Work" states.
I've always worked in the South, which means in "Right to Work" states. That doesn't mean there were no unions, but that being in a union was not required to hold a job.
And when you get right down to it, "right to work" laws are all about whether workers in certain industries can be required to pay union dues or not. Simply put, "right to work" laws outlaw a union’s ability to require employees to pay union dues as a condition of employment. In states without "right to work" laws it is legal for a company and a union to agree that every employee in the bargaining unit pays union dues - whether he/she wants to be in the union or not - or gets fired.
This is important for unions, because the ability to collect union dues is how unions function, how unions are able to exist. Therefore, when workers don't pay dues, the union faces the very real possibility of ceasing to exist.
Now, I have worked in a job where a union did negotiate the contract for my group and I was treated accordingly, even thought I was not a member of the union and didn't pay union dues (this was a 'right to work' state). From the union's perspective, this was a legitimate problem: I paid nothing into the union but was entitled to both union representation in a dispute and the benefits (such as they were) of union-negotiated wages and care.
That's one of the negatives of "right to work" states: the union that has the monopoly bargaining power is required to represent non-members as well as dues-paying members. That makes the non-member a "free loader," who can expect the union representative work for him without, in essence, getting paid.
The flip side of this is - and this actually happened - I once tried to negotiate my own employment deal outside of the union agreement, figuring I was not a union-member and maybe I could cut myself a better deal. Unfortunately, the law doesn't allow for that because the union was granted the monopoly in negotiating my job position with management.
Much good has been accomplished by unions. But at the same time, despite what the unions would have you believe, there is a positive economic impact to "right to work'' laws for the workers. Those states do attract more business and incomes do, typically, rise. Unions are right that 'Right to Work'' laws entice companies to leave "Non-Right To Work" states. But in Indiana, according to one study:
I know that unions have had and in some cases continue to have real value. But forcing people to pay union dues to have a job isn't what this country believes in, either.
I admired the loyalty of my friend who, upon learning I was a 'scab,' stood up for his commitment to his union and led a strike - however momentary it was. But I also feel everyone should have the right to associate or not-associate, whether work or politics or religion.
There was a good side to my union experience, however. I used those last two weeks of paid vacation to go to the beach where ... well, that's another story for another day.
It led to some interesting jobs. One time I was on a cement crew, building curbs, gutters, and sidewalks for the company that was developing much of the industrial area known as Fulton Industrial Park in western Fulton County in Atlanta, Ga.
Another time I worked on the construction of 13-story building - not exactly a 'high rise' by Atlanta standards, but tall. They didn't quite know what to do with me on this job, because it was a union job and I was unskilled labor. I could, for example, pull nails but couldn't drive them (only carpentors' union members could drive nails); I could carry equipment for creating cinder block walls, but I could neither participate in the mixing of the concrete (despite my prior experience) nor the stacking or unstacking of concrete blocks, since that was for the masons' union.
Finally, they put me on what, at the time, was a job I enjoyed. On this site, they put together the forms for each floor on the ground (basically the support for the next floor of the building before they poured the concrete to create the actual floor), and then lifted that form in place by crane. They needed someone to ride the form into place in order to control and then release the straps once the crane had placed the next form (or floor) in place. That was my job, and it was really fun as the building got higher. The crane operator had a reputation for being crazy, and I think he liked to swing the floor while I was on it just to see me scramble to keep my balance. But when you're 18 years old, swinging seven or eight stories off the ground on a floating platform was fun.
However, because this was a union job, I was required to be in a union. My only option was the Common Labor Union, for 'unskilled' workers. I avoided the union man as long as I could, but one day he caught me with the question, "How do you stand with the union?" I paid the initial fee that started the process to being a full fledged member, but didn't want to start paying monthly dues because I was trying to save money for college.
I'd become what I thought was pretty good friends with this one carpenter - an apprentice actually. He'd been a Sears Appliance salesman who lost his job, so he joined the carpenters' union and was doing his apprenticeship on this job. I'd been working around wood all my life (my Dad's hobby was building, and he later started his own remodeling company), and I would often help this guy with the machinery and making proper cuts and even, on occasion, driving a nail when it was in a space he couldn't get to.
One day he was talking about the union, and I mentioned I hadn't joined the union. He looked at me in surprise, threw down his hammer, and walked over and said something to another guy, who threw down his hammer, and before I knew it, the entire work force of this construction site walked off the job.
"What happened?" I asked the foreman who had hired me.
"You're a scab,'' he said. "They won't work with you. They've shut down the jobsite."
"What do I do?" I asked.
He thought a minute, then said, "You're going back to school in - what? Three weeks? I'll pay you for two and you just go on home."
Once he told the union organizer I'd been let go, everyone went back to work.
I thought that was all pretty silly. But let me also say I worked another job - putting up billboards in rural Georgia (a company that led to my being involved in an exorcism, which I wrote about here) - that needed to be organized. The workers there were asked to do crazy things by management, sometimes even illegal, and weren't really paid as well as they should have been.
The concept of "right to work" is in the news a lot these days, because of unions trying to block Boeing's move to South Carolina or Gov. Mitch Daniels trying to make Indiana a 'right to work' state. Counting Indiana, there are 23 "Right to Work'' states in the union, basically in the South and Midwest. The northeast and far west are almost all "Non-Right to Work" states.
I've always worked in the South, which means in "Right to Work" states. That doesn't mean there were no unions, but that being in a union was not required to hold a job.
And when you get right down to it, "right to work" laws are all about whether workers in certain industries can be required to pay union dues or not. Simply put, "right to work" laws outlaw a union’s ability to require employees to pay union dues as a condition of employment. In states without "right to work" laws it is legal for a company and a union to agree that every employee in the bargaining unit pays union dues - whether he/she wants to be in the union or not - or gets fired.
This is important for unions, because the ability to collect union dues is how unions function, how unions are able to exist. Therefore, when workers don't pay dues, the union faces the very real possibility of ceasing to exist.
Now, I have worked in a job where a union did negotiate the contract for my group and I was treated accordingly, even thought I was not a member of the union and didn't pay union dues (this was a 'right to work' state). From the union's perspective, this was a legitimate problem: I paid nothing into the union but was entitled to both union representation in a dispute and the benefits (such as they were) of union-negotiated wages and care.
That's one of the negatives of "right to work" states: the union that has the monopoly bargaining power is required to represent non-members as well as dues-paying members. That makes the non-member a "free loader," who can expect the union representative work for him without, in essence, getting paid.
The flip side of this is - and this actually happened - I once tried to negotiate my own employment deal outside of the union agreement, figuring I was not a union-member and maybe I could cut myself a better deal. Unfortunately, the law doesn't allow for that because the union was granted the monopoly in negotiating my job position with management.
Much good has been accomplished by unions. But at the same time, despite what the unions would have you believe, there is a positive economic impact to "right to work'' laws for the workers. Those states do attract more business and incomes do, typically, rise. Unions are right that 'Right to Work'' laws entice companies to leave "Non-Right To Work" states. But in Indiana, according to one study:
…if Indiana had adopted such a law in 1977, by 2008 per ca pita income would have been $2,925 higher—equating to $11,700 higher for a family of four. Another way to put it: Indiana’s personal income in 2008 would have been $241.9 billion, 8.4 percent more than the actual $223.2 billion. Nearly $19 billion in annual income was lost because of Indiana’s lack of a right to work law.It should also be pointed out that unions in "Non-Right-to-Work" states tend to back anti-free market politicians who tend to chase businesses away by creating more regulations and restrictions and increasing taxes on those companies. They make “union states” less attractive to business and, as a result, jobs - potential or real - are lost.
I know that unions have had and in some cases continue to have real value. But forcing people to pay union dues to have a job isn't what this country believes in, either.
I admired the loyalty of my friend who, upon learning I was a 'scab,' stood up for his commitment to his union and led a strike - however momentary it was. But I also feel everyone should have the right to associate or not-associate, whether work or politics or religion.
There was a good side to my union experience, however. I used those last two weeks of paid vacation to go to the beach where ... well, that's another story for another day.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Turns out, the Staples Singers taught me all I need to know about pornography
I was thinking about pornography.
Well, let's be clear: I wasn't thinking pornographic thoughts or images; I was thinking about pornography itself.
A friend of mine called me the other day to tell me about a young girl she is close to (and by "young" I mean probably early 30s) whose marriage was shattered upon discovering her husband's obsession with pornography. The girl found out because she couldn't figure out why her husband had become, after so many years of marriage, abusive with her. One thing led to another and she discovered this whole other life that he was leading that she was completely unaware of, and the first step seemed to be pornography.
This really bothered my friend because it wasn't the first marriage in her circle that had been blown apart by basically the same thing. Indeed, I know of similar situations among people I know. And maybe you do, too.
When I was a kid (sigh! Here we go again) we heard about pictures of nekkid women (you might say 'naked,' but we used to say 'nekkid' - which sounds more graphic, doesn't it?). But it wasn't easy to find then (outside of certain issues of National Geographic, which wasn't quite the same). Maybe a friend's father got Playboy magazine (scandalous at the time), but I only heard about it. I did have a friend who allegedly had these playing cards he'd stumbled across somehow that had the black-and-white pictures of nekkid women on them. I say "allegedly" because I never really saw them. He kept them hidden in his basement, so terrified of someone finding out about his secret treasure that he refused to bring them out to show off. For all I know, they're still hidden above the heating duct, between two floor joists, way back in the dirt crawl space under his house.
Of course now you walk down any mall in America and can't avoid images that, in my childhood, would have been considered, well, pornographic (if we'd even known the word, which I don't think we did).
Walk down the mall? How about just turn on the computer? You can't hardly check email without some kind of picture or offer of someone 'looking' for you (and by that they really mean hoping you'd look at them).
When The Heir was just kind of coming to that age where I figured it was time to start talking about such things, with the noblest of intentions I decided to educate him about the kind of women he would run into as he grew up.
I told him there were women out there that didn't respect themselves, but that I wanted him to respect all women, whether they respected themselves or not. He asked how he would know the ones who respected themselves from the ones who didn't, and I just said that he'd know - it might be the way they dressed, or the way they acted, or their conversation, but he'd know.
It was stupid, I know. Not because it was so totally judgemental on my part (and such a guy attitude), but because from then on, whenever we were out in public, The Little Heir would walk along beside me, scanning every female he saw and then, in a sincere little voice that was just a little too loud, ask me, "Dad - does that woman respect herself? How about that one? Does she respect herself?"
You can't imagine the kind of looks I got (and, I admit, deserved).
I realize now of course that I had it backward. I should have been teaching The Heir - and myself - that the issue of respect was internal: the only respect I should have been concerned with was that The Heir learned to respect himself.
We had a later conversation about horror movies. A bunch of his friends had it in their heads to go see some slasher film, and The Heir was upset that The Trophy Wife and I wouldn't let him go. When he asked why, I told him that he needed to guard his mind, that whatever images he allowed in their would be there forever. The things he was likely to see in that movie (and others like it) would stay with him; once seen, there would be no way to erase them.
(Selfishly, of course, I was concerned about nightmares. I didn't want him going to sleep and waking up screaming, and then coming into my room and getting into bed with The Trophy Wife and I, afraid to go to sleep.)
Much later - to my chagrin - I realized the same truth about horror movies would apply to pornography: once the images or ideas are in your head, you can't get them out.
Complicating the problem is that it doesn't take long before the people in those images are no longer real people. Instead of being somebodies' daughter or sister they become objects of self-gratification, less than human. Nobody cares what the person in the picture thinks or believes or reads or listens to; nobody cares how she spends her holidays or what her dreams are. She becomes an object - a vehicle, if you will, like a car or train or plane whose sole purpose is to 'take you there.'
To think that the actors or models might have real emotions or feelings ruins the image. After all, cars don't have feelings and emotions, only a machine-like purpose.
Some people take care of their cars. Some people abuse them. Some people take care of the people in their lives; some people abuse them.
I know, I know - people have free will. Who am I to tell them it's not "respectful?"
And you're right. It's not my place.
My only responsibility is to respect myself - which includes how I allow myself to see others.
Don't misunderstand. I'm as tempted as the next guy when it comes to attractive women. And yes, I admit I've been inside a strip club in my life. But I was always so self-conscious that it was just uncomfortable.
I remember going with a friend of mine, way back before I was married. It was his bachelor party, and the 'best man' took us all to a strip club. We went inside for awhile, but after a few minutes I slipped outside where, to my surprise, I found the soon-to-be groom. We never said why we were outside. We just sat on the steps of the club and started talking, then laughing, then telling stories (lies, or near-lies), and generally having a great time.
I am probably messing this story up, but I remember reading C. S. Lewis (I think it was) put it this way: imagine going into a fine restuarant, and ordering the most expensive meal on the menu, having the waiter bring it to your table with a cover over it, and after much teasing and drama he pulls the cover off, and this incredible meal sits there on my plate and I look at it, admire it from all angles, joke about how good I bet it is - then pay for it and walk out, never having tasted it.
You'd think I was stupid, wouldn't you? But isn't it the same thing?
At some point, you get frustrated. And frustration leads, too often, to anger, and perhaps violence. While what you wanted, in the beginning, was something good and healthy, now it has become an obsession and you don't care how you get it. And it becomes wrong.
The actor, Paul Newman - considered a really good-looking guy - was once asked about the women that made themselves available to him, and if he wasn't ever tempted. Newman, married to a good Southern girl and a pretty actress named Joanne Woodward, answered this way: "Sure, I'm aware of it. I'm not dead. But why would I settle for hamburger when I have steak at home?"
Now, Woodward happened to be in the next room when he said it, and came storming into the room, unhappy at being referred to as if she were a piece of meat.
It was obvious they respected each other.
And themselves.
Turns out, the Staple Singers had it right: "If you don't respect yourself ain't nobody going to give a good cahoot ..."
Ah, let's just let Mavis tell it:
Well, let's be clear: I wasn't thinking pornographic thoughts or images; I was thinking about pornography itself.
A friend of mine called me the other day to tell me about a young girl she is close to (and by "young" I mean probably early 30s) whose marriage was shattered upon discovering her husband's obsession with pornography. The girl found out because she couldn't figure out why her husband had become, after so many years of marriage, abusive with her. One thing led to another and she discovered this whole other life that he was leading that she was completely unaware of, and the first step seemed to be pornography.
This really bothered my friend because it wasn't the first marriage in her circle that had been blown apart by basically the same thing. Indeed, I know of similar situations among people I know. And maybe you do, too.
When I was a kid (sigh! Here we go again) we heard about pictures of nekkid women (you might say 'naked,' but we used to say 'nekkid' - which sounds more graphic, doesn't it?). But it wasn't easy to find then (outside of certain issues of National Geographic, which wasn't quite the same). Maybe a friend's father got Playboy magazine (scandalous at the time), but I only heard about it. I did have a friend who allegedly had these playing cards he'd stumbled across somehow that had the black-and-white pictures of nekkid women on them. I say "allegedly" because I never really saw them. He kept them hidden in his basement, so terrified of someone finding out about his secret treasure that he refused to bring them out to show off. For all I know, they're still hidden above the heating duct, between two floor joists, way back in the dirt crawl space under his house.
Of course now you walk down any mall in America and can't avoid images that, in my childhood, would have been considered, well, pornographic (if we'd even known the word, which I don't think we did).
Walk down the mall? How about just turn on the computer? You can't hardly check email without some kind of picture or offer of someone 'looking' for you (and by that they really mean hoping you'd look at them).
When The Heir was just kind of coming to that age where I figured it was time to start talking about such things, with the noblest of intentions I decided to educate him about the kind of women he would run into as he grew up.
I told him there were women out there that didn't respect themselves, but that I wanted him to respect all women, whether they respected themselves or not. He asked how he would know the ones who respected themselves from the ones who didn't, and I just said that he'd know - it might be the way they dressed, or the way they acted, or their conversation, but he'd know.
It was stupid, I know. Not because it was so totally judgemental on my part (and such a guy attitude), but because from then on, whenever we were out in public, The Little Heir would walk along beside me, scanning every female he saw and then, in a sincere little voice that was just a little too loud, ask me, "Dad - does that woman respect herself? How about that one? Does she respect herself?"
You can't imagine the kind of looks I got (and, I admit, deserved).
I realize now of course that I had it backward. I should have been teaching The Heir - and myself - that the issue of respect was internal: the only respect I should have been concerned with was that The Heir learned to respect himself.
We had a later conversation about horror movies. A bunch of his friends had it in their heads to go see some slasher film, and The Heir was upset that The Trophy Wife and I wouldn't let him go. When he asked why, I told him that he needed to guard his mind, that whatever images he allowed in their would be there forever. The things he was likely to see in that movie (and others like it) would stay with him; once seen, there would be no way to erase them.
(Selfishly, of course, I was concerned about nightmares. I didn't want him going to sleep and waking up screaming, and then coming into my room and getting into bed with The Trophy Wife and I, afraid to go to sleep.)
Much later - to my chagrin - I realized the same truth about horror movies would apply to pornography: once the images or ideas are in your head, you can't get them out.
Complicating the problem is that it doesn't take long before the people in those images are no longer real people. Instead of being somebodies' daughter or sister they become objects of self-gratification, less than human. Nobody cares what the person in the picture thinks or believes or reads or listens to; nobody cares how she spends her holidays or what her dreams are. She becomes an object - a vehicle, if you will, like a car or train or plane whose sole purpose is to 'take you there.'
To think that the actors or models might have real emotions or feelings ruins the image. After all, cars don't have feelings and emotions, only a machine-like purpose.
Some people take care of their cars. Some people abuse them. Some people take care of the people in their lives; some people abuse them.
I know, I know - people have free will. Who am I to tell them it's not "respectful?"
And you're right. It's not my place.
My only responsibility is to respect myself - which includes how I allow myself to see others.
Don't misunderstand. I'm as tempted as the next guy when it comes to attractive women. And yes, I admit I've been inside a strip club in my life. But I was always so self-conscious that it was just uncomfortable.
I remember going with a friend of mine, way back before I was married. It was his bachelor party, and the 'best man' took us all to a strip club. We went inside for awhile, but after a few minutes I slipped outside where, to my surprise, I found the soon-to-be groom. We never said why we were outside. We just sat on the steps of the club and started talking, then laughing, then telling stories (lies, or near-lies), and generally having a great time.
I am probably messing this story up, but I remember reading C. S. Lewis (I think it was) put it this way: imagine going into a fine restuarant, and ordering the most expensive meal on the menu, having the waiter bring it to your table with a cover over it, and after much teasing and drama he pulls the cover off, and this incredible meal sits there on my plate and I look at it, admire it from all angles, joke about how good I bet it is - then pay for it and walk out, never having tasted it.
You'd think I was stupid, wouldn't you? But isn't it the same thing?
At some point, you get frustrated. And frustration leads, too often, to anger, and perhaps violence. While what you wanted, in the beginning, was something good and healthy, now it has become an obsession and you don't care how you get it. And it becomes wrong.
The actor, Paul Newman - considered a really good-looking guy - was once asked about the women that made themselves available to him, and if he wasn't ever tempted. Newman, married to a good Southern girl and a pretty actress named Joanne Woodward, answered this way: "Sure, I'm aware of it. I'm not dead. But why would I settle for hamburger when I have steak at home?"
Now, Woodward happened to be in the next room when he said it, and came storming into the room, unhappy at being referred to as if she were a piece of meat.
It was obvious they respected each other.
And themselves.
Turns out, the Staple Singers had it right: "If you don't respect yourself ain't nobody going to give a good cahoot ..."
Ah, let's just let Mavis tell it:
OK, that was supposed to be a video link of Mavis Staples. Maybe it didn't work. If not, and you want to hear one of the great soul singers of all time, click here
Respect yourself.
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