Observations.
As I have gotten older I have developed a habit, be it good or evil, to go through a cycle. First is to notice the faults in someone else and then to see how that fault reflects on my own life. It didn't show much in my earlier writings. Life has a way of changing us, Maturing us or breaking us down. Not sure which is happening to me yet but hopefully I have time to figure it out.
All that being said, something is eating at me.
Raised in the South, by Southerners, I was always instructed to be a gentleman. I was in college before I truly realized that the idea of a "gentleman" by strict definition implies a social order. I was not raised in the quasi-aristocratic class of the Southern Gentleman. That is not what I am trying to communicate. My definition is more about handling oneself with class, manners, civility. Specifics I remember growing up - opening a door for someone, especially a lady. If I was in a store with my mother and a lady dropped her keys, I was taught that it was only natural to pick them up for her. And I never sat in a chair if there was a single female person that was not seated, even in my own home.
Now I'm well aware of the women's lib movement. And I'm certainly not one of the chauvinist types. And the things I have mentioned are minor gestures, no doubt. But they are things I have tried to pass on to my sons. I've tried to set an example for them and I have to say that their strides in this area has made this dad proud.
But what is eating at me is the lack of such conduct in our society today. I was disturbed to see several instances while on vacation this past week.
The instances that bothered me most were young, able bodied men, in their 20s sitting in seats on the monorail while ladies, children and even elderly people stood. There was an instance I missed where my wife was run into by a young man, reportedly in his teens, who offered no apology, no acknowledgement, no anything.
But the proud moments were seeing my sons showing their gentlemanly side. They opened doors, offered "please", "thank you", "excuse me" and others. My sons stood on the platform until any ladies had entered the trains.
I don't expect some rebirth of chivalry. I'm not even asking for that. And to be honest, this has offered me an opportunity for self-examination. I see areas that need to be tweaked or rebuilt. It challenged me to consider my own shortcomings as a gentleman, as a husband, as a dad. Because we often detest qualities in others that we can find within ourselves and far too often that same sneer you send across the train can be found staring back at you from a mirror.
In the long run, the idea comes back to one simple truism that can be found, in some form, in all of the world's major religions. In mine it reads like this, "As you would that men would do unto you, do you even so unto them." It means I'm responsible for the way I act and the way my sons are taught to act. It means that I have to act first before expecting another to do the same. It means I have to set myself aside and be the example of the way a gentleman should behave. I still have work to do, no doubt - but I'm getting there. And my sons are getting there. And if three men become finer gentlemen than myself, that is a three-fold return on the investment.
Not too shabby. Regardless of how deteriorated the status of gentlemen has become, 1:3 is a ratio that gives me hope for the future.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Ramblings of an Individual
So it's been a while.
Oh, don't get me wrong, my fingers have not lost contact with the keyboard or any such thing as that. On the contrary, I have been writing quite a bit. The format changed and none of it has been public but I have been writing just the same.
The fact is, I have sort of been writing a book. I say "sort of" as there is no guarantee that this book is going anywhere or that it will be read by anyone. And I'm ok with that. Besides, while that part of the story is pertinent to this post, it isn't what the post is about.
Something has struck me during the process of a plot thickening and characters developing as this story continues to thread itself together. And then tonight, during the Super Bowl the ad starring Clint Eastwood left something with me as well. So many things have happened lately to keep me coming back to this point. And for those that keep up with such things the beginning soundtrack of this entry is U2, Where the Streets Have No Name.
The point is individuality.
The factor that is bringing this out is thinking of the greatness of a nation. What makes that nation great? We are told stories of old - great kings and queens that led powerful nations and did great things. Inventors, explorers, soldiers, sailors, marines. But we hear about the nations - Great Britain, France, Spain, The Roman Empire and most recently, the United States. We see the fruits of the greatness - Global colonization, domination of Europe, discovery of the New World, ruling the known world and the world's lone "superpower".
Who did these things? What made the nations great? Some of it was being in the right place at the right time, But most importantly, that claim belongs to the individuals that worked to make the nation great. Governments don't create wealth and have nothing they don't take from the people. That truth is universal, regardless of the type of government system a country has. What makes the country great is people.
In an American election year, we hear stories of every sort of group you can imagine. People lobbying for the middle class, the women vote, the black vote, the Latino vote, the union vote, the evangelical vote, the Catholic vote, etc, etc, etc. Everyone is lumped into one group or another. Usually 8 or ten, give or take a dozen. It's easy to lose track of who you are.
People look at me funny sometimes when I say something about a particular topic, as if perhaps my stance doesn't exactly fit my status in the short, blond, fireman, Southern-writer-wanna-be, Gen-X, Christian white dude with poor eyesight demographic. Most people aren't expecting me to fall in the Sam demographic - which is funny, considering that I'm Sam, regardless of any of those other things. I was still Sam when I was a 145 pound high school sophomore trying to gain weight to play football, back before a medical condition warped my corneas. I'll be Sam when my blond hair is gray and I sit on the front porch griping about how loud the neighbors kids are and talking about things "back in my day".
Rambling.
So, think of the things that made America great. The light bulb over my head is a direct descendant of the one invented by Nikola Tesla, (Yes, I know what your teacher told you but remember, Columbus' teachers told him the world was flat.) The iPod playing this Driving n Cryin beside me is a distant cousin of the radio invented by that same Serbian mastermind - he'd tell you that Marconi was a donkey. Besides Nikola, there were other great men and women, most of whom you have never heard of and probably never will. Some got up every morning and went to work on production lines. Some rode steel girders hundreds of feet into the air. Some worked as slaves in fields of cotton, rice, sugar cane and tobacco. Some came from China, Ireland and Poland only to be derided for their "identity", their demographic.
And yet, like myself, you always find someone whose political beliefs, personal goals, worldview, religious convictions, you name it, doesn't quite fit their demographic. These people have stepped out and taken a path on their own. They are not held in the pen of their demographic, they are an individual. If we are honest with ourselves, we all are. And in an age where diversity has become such a buzzword, how can we not celebrate the ultimate unit of diversity - the individual?
And yet, look at the comments on the updates from almost any group on Facebook and you'll see epithet after slur of every imaginable combination of letters and punctuation marks. We have lost our ability to reason, and on some level, to be individuals. We have chosen sides, and whether it's politics, religion, sports, or basket weaving, we're right and they're wrong and if you disagree then you are a...well, you get the picture. Let's just say it has deteriorated from logic and reason...deteriorated is not really a good choice of words...I think it is more like devolved as it has lost its humanity and only passion and ignorance remain.
I am reminded that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams shared a trait with Abraham Lincoln and Alexander H. Stephens - both pairs of men were staunch political adversaries...and close personal friends. Such things were possible back in the 18th and 19th centuries. Judging by the modern discourse these men would have each thought the other might be capable of copulating with his own mother or that his intelligence quotient was not quite 50. One might even suggest that the other enjoy a meal of excrement and then go to live with Jesus. But somehow these men could set those differences aside and allow each other to be individuals, realizing that there is humanity inside the people we disagree with just as there is in those we agree with - just as there is within ourselves.
So it goes.
I feel a little rusty at this point. It is difficult to speak your own mind after filtering it through fictional characters for such a time. But hopefully there is more to come, both here and there. Until next time...
Oh, don't get me wrong, my fingers have not lost contact with the keyboard or any such thing as that. On the contrary, I have been writing quite a bit. The format changed and none of it has been public but I have been writing just the same.
The fact is, I have sort of been writing a book. I say "sort of" as there is no guarantee that this book is going anywhere or that it will be read by anyone. And I'm ok with that. Besides, while that part of the story is pertinent to this post, it isn't what the post is about.
Something has struck me during the process of a plot thickening and characters developing as this story continues to thread itself together. And then tonight, during the Super Bowl the ad starring Clint Eastwood left something with me as well. So many things have happened lately to keep me coming back to this point. And for those that keep up with such things the beginning soundtrack of this entry is U2, Where the Streets Have No Name.
The point is individuality.
The factor that is bringing this out is thinking of the greatness of a nation. What makes that nation great? We are told stories of old - great kings and queens that led powerful nations and did great things. Inventors, explorers, soldiers, sailors, marines. But we hear about the nations - Great Britain, France, Spain, The Roman Empire and most recently, the United States. We see the fruits of the greatness - Global colonization, domination of Europe, discovery of the New World, ruling the known world and the world's lone "superpower".
Who did these things? What made the nations great? Some of it was being in the right place at the right time, But most importantly, that claim belongs to the individuals that worked to make the nation great. Governments don't create wealth and have nothing they don't take from the people. That truth is universal, regardless of the type of government system a country has. What makes the country great is people.
In an American election year, we hear stories of every sort of group you can imagine. People lobbying for the middle class, the women vote, the black vote, the Latino vote, the union vote, the evangelical vote, the Catholic vote, etc, etc, etc. Everyone is lumped into one group or another. Usually 8 or ten, give or take a dozen. It's easy to lose track of who you are.
People look at me funny sometimes when I say something about a particular topic, as if perhaps my stance doesn't exactly fit my status in the short, blond, fireman, Southern-writer-wanna-be, Gen-X, Christian white dude with poor eyesight demographic. Most people aren't expecting me to fall in the Sam demographic - which is funny, considering that I'm Sam, regardless of any of those other things. I was still Sam when I was a 145 pound high school sophomore trying to gain weight to play football, back before a medical condition warped my corneas. I'll be Sam when my blond hair is gray and I sit on the front porch griping about how loud the neighbors kids are and talking about things "back in my day".
Rambling.
So, think of the things that made America great. The light bulb over my head is a direct descendant of the one invented by Nikola Tesla, (Yes, I know what your teacher told you but remember, Columbus' teachers told him the world was flat.) The iPod playing this Driving n Cryin beside me is a distant cousin of the radio invented by that same Serbian mastermind - he'd tell you that Marconi was a donkey. Besides Nikola, there were other great men and women, most of whom you have never heard of and probably never will. Some got up every morning and went to work on production lines. Some rode steel girders hundreds of feet into the air. Some worked as slaves in fields of cotton, rice, sugar cane and tobacco. Some came from China, Ireland and Poland only to be derided for their "identity", their demographic.
And yet, like myself, you always find someone whose political beliefs, personal goals, worldview, religious convictions, you name it, doesn't quite fit their demographic. These people have stepped out and taken a path on their own. They are not held in the pen of their demographic, they are an individual. If we are honest with ourselves, we all are. And in an age where diversity has become such a buzzword, how can we not celebrate the ultimate unit of diversity - the individual?
And yet, look at the comments on the updates from almost any group on Facebook and you'll see epithet after slur of every imaginable combination of letters and punctuation marks. We have lost our ability to reason, and on some level, to be individuals. We have chosen sides, and whether it's politics, religion, sports, or basket weaving, we're right and they're wrong and if you disagree then you are a...well, you get the picture. Let's just say it has deteriorated from logic and reason...deteriorated is not really a good choice of words...I think it is more like devolved as it has lost its humanity and only passion and ignorance remain.
I am reminded that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams shared a trait with Abraham Lincoln and Alexander H. Stephens - both pairs of men were staunch political adversaries...and close personal friends. Such things were possible back in the 18th and 19th centuries. Judging by the modern discourse these men would have each thought the other might be capable of copulating with his own mother or that his intelligence quotient was not quite 50. One might even suggest that the other enjoy a meal of excrement and then go to live with Jesus. But somehow these men could set those differences aside and allow each other to be individuals, realizing that there is humanity inside the people we disagree with just as there is in those we agree with - just as there is within ourselves.
So it goes.
I feel a little rusty at this point. It is difficult to speak your own mind after filtering it through fictional characters for such a time. But hopefully there is more to come, both here and there. Until next time...
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Shades of Gray on Decoration Day
So it's been a while.
The Spring has been busy and loaded with events, travels, a few disasters and the trappings of everyday life. In the words of a hero, "so it goes".
Mentioning such a hero is a fitting way to start this entry as heroes are what make this weekend possible. For that matter, they make most everything possible. And so we set out to place men and women on tall pedestals and revere them for great works that they have done. Such great men and women walk on a plain above us. They are not susceptible to error or wrongdoing.. And if we find them guilty of wrong, we drag them from their pedestal and cast them from the ranks of demigods, back to a life as a lowly commoner...perhaps even a criminal. I won't even enter into the examples of this from the ranks of American celebrities that we drag out until they become cliche.
One of my journeys this spring carried me to a rural patch of land on the Tennessee River, where the states of Tennessee, Alabama and Mississippi all meet up. In places, it is so desolate that a man will stop and ask for directions. And so I did.
Oh, I was on the right road, the lady reassured me of that. I needed to only drive a few miles until I saw the "kwairy" which, incidentally is a hole in the ground from which rock is harvested. The lady was not the best speaker in the world, had obviously seen better days...if not years. But in that moment, she was a hero to me. She was a friendly source of practical knowledge along a poorly marked road. She probably had no advanced education of the significance of my destination, but she knew where it was and how I could find it. She saved my morning.
And so we finally found the location of Pittsburg Landing. Better known to American History as Shiloh
My son and I walked through a cemetery filled with fallen Union soldiers. We saw the "trenches", mass graves filled with the Confederate dead. We walked around Bloody Pond, where the wounded of both armies turned the still water red.
I was almost brought to tears when we walked from the monument where Albert Sidney Johnston was shot to the the small ditch where he was carried to die. It was so far from his native Texas. He had left the US Army at 58 years old. He had been a hero in previous wars. At Shiloh, he fought his last.
In the midst of the Union Cemetery is a marker for the location of Grant's Headquarters. We also saw sites that were significant to Sherman's involvement. There was the location of Fallen Timbers, where Forrest was nearly killed but instead elevated himself to legend status.
And my mind comes back to the trenches. Family members requested safety to bury their dead. But Grant had already buried them in the trenches due to the heat of the day. And so, the mass of Confederate dead lie unmarked. Known only to God.
Heroes and villains....depending on who you talk to.
And as I shared such important time with my son, teaching him and learning with him - even learning some from him, I wondered to myself what it all meant. It can be a humbling thing to stand in such a place and have an eleven-year-old boy in a blue kepi ask you who the good guys were. I wanted to just make it short and answer "yes and no". But I knew that answer was not good enough for him. Or for me.
So, for months I have thought about it. Other events have played a role and I've come to realize that a war that is often painted, quite literally, so black and white is just not that simple. And when I look at my personal heroes, they aren't that simple. And then I have to look inside myself for the Grace to grant these people the right to maintain their humanity while still remaining heroes - the Grace to live in the mores and standards of their day - the Grace to make mistakes but still be great.
And so I hold my nose for an ATBIG first. I have to share a quote by the monster and war criminal William T. Sherman: "General Grant is a great general. I know him well. He stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk; and now, sir, we stand by each other always."
Loyalty born of Grace and a common struggle. I'd be hypocritical to recognize the evils of these two men and somehow pretend I am above them. I'd be in the wrong if I denied them the ability to be heroes to someone and pretend that everyone holds the same opinion of me that my children do. Because "hero" is a tricky word and can find itself on the oddest labels. And evils, both real and imagined, can cloud our judgement towards people, allowing us to skew their stories.
So, on the Decoration Day (the original name of Memorial Day) weekend, while swimming, eating and drinking, take time to remember heroes from all shades of gray that lie in graves and trenches while we party. Remember those that lie in graves and trenches so we can party. And, please grant Grace to those heroes. Someone, somewhere believes in them.
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