I'm an old retired white man who was born here and lived here all my life, and I know how horribly I feel about where things are with my country.
I can't imagine how I would feel about it if I were in a religion other than redneck evangelical (pardon the redundancy, and, I'm no longer in that religion, but that's the protected group), a woman, born in another country (especially one to the south of the US, or in the Middle East that doesn't do business with the Trump Organization), a teacher, a union member, a member or spouse of the US military generally, and a transgender member of the military in particular, a member of the LGBTQ community, an African-American, a Latino, a journalist-you know, a real journalist-one who doesn't work at Fox News, a child who is incarcerated after being taken from their parents at the southern border, a parent who is incarcerated or deported whose child has been taken from them at the southern border, a person of color who has had a loved one gunned down in the street by the police, a person who has lived every minute they can remember of their lives here but now been torn from their family and work because they were brought here by their parents 20, 30, 40, or 50 years ago, and has never known life anywhere else, or any one of a thousand other groups that have had war declared on them by power.
But I'm trying to imagine.
I'm trying to understand.
Because that's the only way that any or all of this shit is going to be stopped.
Sunday, March 31, 2019
Friday, March 22, 2019
The Longest-Lived President
I'm a bit skeptical whenever I hear the announcement of a new "World's Oldest Person." First, it means that someone else has died, and, second, it's not a lasting title.
It seems the same with American presidents.
That said, I find it remarkably satisfying that Jimmy Carter has become, today, the longest-lived president in American history. Mr. Carter surpassed George H.W. Bush at 94 years and 172 days.
Jimmy Carter is widely adjudged to have been a failure as a president. This evaluation is grossly unfair and inaccurate, and betrays our general American emphasis on image over actual accomplishment, propaganda over fact. His character has been assassinated by republicans, beginning with the abominable Reagan and his lackies, for 45 years. Carter's basic human decency, over the issue of the Shah of Iran seeking admission to the United States for treatment after being diagnosed with cancer, led to the takeover of the American embassy in Tehran, and the subsequent hostage crisis. He had the release of the hostages negotiated and agreed to when George H.W. Bush, acting for Reagan, communicated to the Iranians that a Reagan Administration would offer a better deal to Iran than Carter had. The Iranians sat on the hostages for additional time, until Reagan was sworn in. Reagan's people subsequently sold American arms, illegally, to the Iranian government, in order to illegally fund the Nicaraguan Contras' war against the Sandinista government. (Republicans have a long history of colluding with foreign governments against American interests. In addition to Trump and Reagan, Nixon killed an agreement over the Vietnam War in the same way, for the same purpose, in 1968, costing Hubert Humphrey the White House, and resulting in the only resignation from the American presidency. So far.)
Carter established the Departments of Education and Energy. He made both national issues. He installed solar panels on the White House (which Reagan had taken down). He preached and practiced conservation. He personally negotiated the only peace agreement between nations in the Middle East that has lasted: the Camp David Agreement between Israel and Egypt. He and Walter Mondale remade the role of the vice president. He sought to dramatically decrease American dependence on oil from OPEC and other producers. He governed by intense study of the issues before him. And he was the only American president of my lifetime who actually practiced, in detail, the faith that he claimed to live by.
Jimmy Carter was a good president.
He has been a great former president. He has made the eradication of the guinea worm one of his top priorities, and has very nearly gotten the world to that point. I will leave it to you to search out the horrible consequences of guinea worm infection. He has continued to this day to build housing, with his own hands, for low income people, through Habitat for Humanity. He has monitored more elections in more countries, and brought home more Americans held in other countries than anyone in my memory. Through the Carter Center, based in Atlanta, he has continued to advocate, forcefully, for human rights around the world. And particularly, since the days even before he left the Southern Baptist Church over its policies toward them, the human rights of women and girls. President Carter has never forgotten the remarkable guidance of his mother, Miss Lillian Carter, and has always treasured his astounding and full partnership of almost 72 years with former First Lady of the United States Rosalynn Carter. These relationships shaped President Carter's understanding of the desperate need for justice in education, employment, family planning, and rights, generally, for women.
Jimmy Carter is a great man. He was an effective president, and has been the exemplar for former presidents. He has stood for what is right and just. He is just the man to be remembered as our longest living president.
I am proud, to this day, that the first vote I ever cast in a presidential election was for Jimmy Carter's reelection.
It seems the same with American presidents.
That said, I find it remarkably satisfying that Jimmy Carter has become, today, the longest-lived president in American history. Mr. Carter surpassed George H.W. Bush at 94 years and 172 days.
Jimmy Carter is widely adjudged to have been a failure as a president. This evaluation is grossly unfair and inaccurate, and betrays our general American emphasis on image over actual accomplishment, propaganda over fact. His character has been assassinated by republicans, beginning with the abominable Reagan and his lackies, for 45 years. Carter's basic human decency, over the issue of the Shah of Iran seeking admission to the United States for treatment after being diagnosed with cancer, led to the takeover of the American embassy in Tehran, and the subsequent hostage crisis. He had the release of the hostages negotiated and agreed to when George H.W. Bush, acting for Reagan, communicated to the Iranians that a Reagan Administration would offer a better deal to Iran than Carter had. The Iranians sat on the hostages for additional time, until Reagan was sworn in. Reagan's people subsequently sold American arms, illegally, to the Iranian government, in order to illegally fund the Nicaraguan Contras' war against the Sandinista government. (Republicans have a long history of colluding with foreign governments against American interests. In addition to Trump and Reagan, Nixon killed an agreement over the Vietnam War in the same way, for the same purpose, in 1968, costing Hubert Humphrey the White House, and resulting in the only resignation from the American presidency. So far.)
Carter established the Departments of Education and Energy. He made both national issues. He installed solar panels on the White House (which Reagan had taken down). He preached and practiced conservation. He personally negotiated the only peace agreement between nations in the Middle East that has lasted: the Camp David Agreement between Israel and Egypt. He and Walter Mondale remade the role of the vice president. He sought to dramatically decrease American dependence on oil from OPEC and other producers. He governed by intense study of the issues before him. And he was the only American president of my lifetime who actually practiced, in detail, the faith that he claimed to live by.
Jimmy Carter was a good president.
He has been a great former president. He has made the eradication of the guinea worm one of his top priorities, and has very nearly gotten the world to that point. I will leave it to you to search out the horrible consequences of guinea worm infection. He has continued to this day to build housing, with his own hands, for low income people, through Habitat for Humanity. He has monitored more elections in more countries, and brought home more Americans held in other countries than anyone in my memory. Through the Carter Center, based in Atlanta, he has continued to advocate, forcefully, for human rights around the world. And particularly, since the days even before he left the Southern Baptist Church over its policies toward them, the human rights of women and girls. President Carter has never forgotten the remarkable guidance of his mother, Miss Lillian Carter, and has always treasured his astounding and full partnership of almost 72 years with former First Lady of the United States Rosalynn Carter. These relationships shaped President Carter's understanding of the desperate need for justice in education, employment, family planning, and rights, generally, for women.
Jimmy Carter is a great man. He was an effective president, and has been the exemplar for former presidents. He has stood for what is right and just. He is just the man to be remembered as our longest living president.
I am proud, to this day, that the first vote I ever cast in a presidential election was for Jimmy Carter's reelection.
Saturday, March 16, 2019
We Never Truly Know
It's been a pretty lousy week. A man that I'd known of for over 40 years, and known, lightly, for almost 20 years, died. I learned his name from west Tennessee high school basketball. He was very, very good. Good enough to be All State, and High School All American. Good enough to get an NCAA Division 1 scholarship. And play.
I wanted to be a basketball player. I stalled out at 5' 6 1/2". And I like pizza.
I made his acquaintance because he also became an incredible musician. He often told the story of how one of Memphis' legendary guitarists, Teenie Hodges, taught him how to play. He was signed to a national recording company. He had a legit top 10 hit. He made a couple of great albums. Then he got caught in the vagaries of the recording industry, his company going belly up, and leaving him unpromoted, with a contract hanging over his head, and needing years to get out from under it. He played around town, frequently, in the years when I was able to haunt most of the music venues. I heard him often enough he began to recognize me at his gigs. We talked a little.
I wanted to be a musician. I bought a guitar. I learned how to strum a few chords. OK, for playing along with the cd player, with only my ears in attendance. Never got any better than that.
He was a scholar. He did good, profound work on one of the Nobel-winning Irish poets from the earlier part of the 20th century.
I majored in history, then got diverted for 28 years.
I did some really stupid stuff in my high school and college years. The kind of stuff that would have caused me to take the car keys away from my children, permanently, if I'd caught them doing some of the same stuff I did. But, for whatever reason, I was lucky. I didn't hurt myself or anyone else. And I didn't wind up addicted. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
He did some stupid stuff as a young man, too. Same kind of stuff as me. But he wasn't lucky. He wound up addicted. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
He went through hell, but found a door. That door was faith, the church, and ministry. He moved through all of the required steps, and came up for ordination. He was four years older than me, but I'd already passed through those steps of the process a few years ahead of him.
I voted for his admission.
He'd been through hell, but he was determined that he wasn't going to leave anyone else there. He did the various kinds of work that ministry requires, but he put tremendous time, effort, and skill into reaching addicted people, because he knew what they were dealing with, and going through.
He was great at it.
I couldn't begin to estimate the number of people whose loads were made lighter, and lives were made better because he was there for them. He found a church, or they found him, or pastor and church found each other, where he could focus on that sort of ministry, and he helped lead that work into being a vital part of his church's life.
Then, apparently, his addiction reared its head again. The news reports said he was in a rehab facility. Today they reported that the coroner's autopsy said the cause of death was suicide by hanging.
We never truly know how it's going with someone else. Every time I saw the guy, or listened to his music, I thought to myself, what a guy! How I'd like to be like him, in any one area of his incredible talents! Much less, have all of them! But he, clearly, was hurting, and struggling, no matter the face that he invariably presented when you ran into him.
I'm grieving his passing. I'm heartsick over the circumstances of it. I wish that, in that awful moment, he could have found solace in his impact on the lives of so many people fighting addiction, no matter how his own fight was going right then. I wish that he could have found solace in the poetry that was so dear to his heart. I wish he could have banged it out on his guitar, and written another new song that would have spoken for him and to so many of us. I wish he could have picked up a basketball and hooped it out until things looked better. I wish someone could have been there to wade through it with him. I wish I'd been able to make the offer of help, myself.
But he's gone now. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
And I'd like to think that I'll be a little more intentional, now, about trying to know what's going on in the people in my circle of acquaintance.
Because we never truly know.
I wanted to be a basketball player. I stalled out at 5' 6 1/2". And I like pizza.
I made his acquaintance because he also became an incredible musician. He often told the story of how one of Memphis' legendary guitarists, Teenie Hodges, taught him how to play. He was signed to a national recording company. He had a legit top 10 hit. He made a couple of great albums. Then he got caught in the vagaries of the recording industry, his company going belly up, and leaving him unpromoted, with a contract hanging over his head, and needing years to get out from under it. He played around town, frequently, in the years when I was able to haunt most of the music venues. I heard him often enough he began to recognize me at his gigs. We talked a little.
I wanted to be a musician. I bought a guitar. I learned how to strum a few chords. OK, for playing along with the cd player, with only my ears in attendance. Never got any better than that.
He was a scholar. He did good, profound work on one of the Nobel-winning Irish poets from the earlier part of the 20th century.
I majored in history, then got diverted for 28 years.
I did some really stupid stuff in my high school and college years. The kind of stuff that would have caused me to take the car keys away from my children, permanently, if I'd caught them doing some of the same stuff I did. But, for whatever reason, I was lucky. I didn't hurt myself or anyone else. And I didn't wind up addicted. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
He did some stupid stuff as a young man, too. Same kind of stuff as me. But he wasn't lucky. He wound up addicted. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
He went through hell, but found a door. That door was faith, the church, and ministry. He moved through all of the required steps, and came up for ordination. He was four years older than me, but I'd already passed through those steps of the process a few years ahead of him.
I voted for his admission.
He'd been through hell, but he was determined that he wasn't going to leave anyone else there. He did the various kinds of work that ministry requires, but he put tremendous time, effort, and skill into reaching addicted people, because he knew what they were dealing with, and going through.
He was great at it.
I couldn't begin to estimate the number of people whose loads were made lighter, and lives were made better because he was there for them. He found a church, or they found him, or pastor and church found each other, where he could focus on that sort of ministry, and he helped lead that work into being a vital part of his church's life.
Then, apparently, his addiction reared its head again. The news reports said he was in a rehab facility. Today they reported that the coroner's autopsy said the cause of death was suicide by hanging.
We never truly know how it's going with someone else. Every time I saw the guy, or listened to his music, I thought to myself, what a guy! How I'd like to be like him, in any one area of his incredible talents! Much less, have all of them! But he, clearly, was hurting, and struggling, no matter the face that he invariably presented when you ran into him.
I'm grieving his passing. I'm heartsick over the circumstances of it. I wish that, in that awful moment, he could have found solace in his impact on the lives of so many people fighting addiction, no matter how his own fight was going right then. I wish that he could have found solace in the poetry that was so dear to his heart. I wish he could have banged it out on his guitar, and written another new song that would have spoken for him and to so many of us. I wish he could have picked up a basketball and hooped it out until things looked better. I wish someone could have been there to wade through it with him. I wish I'd been able to make the offer of help, myself.
But he's gone now. I don't know why. It just worked out that way.
And I'd like to think that I'll be a little more intentional, now, about trying to know what's going on in the people in my circle of acquaintance.
Because we never truly know.
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