The Elephant Man

Luckily, I have no client meetings today. The only people who will have to look at me are my wife, who kind of has to, the guys and girls at the office, who will find it all very entertaining, and my assistant, who will be highly compensated for her trouble. You see, last night, at exactly 7:13—I was checking on the oven timer at the time—I felt a familiar pressure and heaviness in the corner of my left eye. I thought...Oh, crap.

Yes friends, once again I have been visited by what for me has become a hardy perennial...periorbital edema...or, if you prefer the Latin... hideously disgusting swollen eye. I will spare all of you a selfie.

What follows are the first responses I can expect from my buddies at work...and remember, these are my friends:

Holy s**t, what the heck happened to your eye??!!

Pam finally had enough of your smart mouth, huh?

I don’t know, I think it’s an improvement.

Then, my assistant will walk in, take one look and burst out laughing. She is not known for either grace or empathy where I am concerned. She’s more in the Oh, stop being a baby! school of nursing, which features a lot of pointing and laughing. Sometimes I think I could keel over in front of her, grasping my chest and she would say, O for heavens sake! Could you have at least signed these checks first? Honestly!!

When I woke up this morning, I knew instantly that it had gotten far worse during the night. No mirror was required, I just knew. The eye was heavy and I could barely see through the narrow slit that remained. When I finally steeled myself for a look, my instincts were validated. Holy Cow. After popping two Benadryl—the only known, sometimes effective cure—I looked again in the mirror. Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you that no matter how attractive you think you are, and some of you are very attractive, one case of edema has the power to turn you into the Elephant Man.

So, this guy will be sporting a pair of thick, black shades today, indoors and out.

What a freak show!

“Always Believe The Poodle”

Now that the 2018 midterms are in the can, it’s time to turn our attention to the Presidential election of 2020. To that end, my daughter and I had the following conversation yesterday...

    

Kaitlin: Jackson and I had a long talk today about the importance of civic responsibility. You can tell, especially in the last photo, that it really sank in.

Me: Yeah...in that last picture it’s like he is considering the possibility that candidate “A” might outlaw snoozles.

Kaitlin: Jackson is considering running for office on an anti-firework platform in 2020.

Me: Anti-firework and a statewide ban on trash trucks...plus, free skratches for everyone, even bad boys.

Kaitlin: Sounds awfully liberal to me! Even bad boys??

Me: I’ve always suspected that Jackson is a socialist pupper...From each according to their ability to skratch, To each according to their need of a snoozle. And he’s probably in favor of open border collies.

Kaitlin: I’ve consulted with Jackson, and he has informed me that although he wants free cookie bones for all, he is unwilling to share any of his cookie bones with anyone. He also stated his refusal to share any of his stuffed frens with any other doggos. I’m concerned that this kind of waffling does not bode well for his campaign.

Me: Typical Limousine Liberal. Sounds like he harbors some 1%er ideas...now that he has his cookie bones, he wants to pull up the ladder behind him!

Kaitlin: we need to drain the swamp!

Me: Isn’t it also true that Jackson has promised not to accept any campaign cookie bone contributions from any outside lobby groups?

Kaitlin: I can neither confirm or deny that such cookie bones have been consumed.

Me: Can you confirm or deny the rumor that Jackson has steadfastly refused to debate any cat candidates who might be on the ballot?

Kaitlin: Confirmed. He drew a hard line on that one.

Me: And, what about that #METOO accusation lodged against him by the French Poodle down the street?

Kaitlin: I 100% believe the poodle....although, he’ll probably get elected anyway.

Me: As Jackson’s running mate, Lucy would like to say that she is in favor of a universal guaranteed income for all puppers so that everyone will able to enjoy unlimited snoozles.

Kaitlin: As you can see, Jackson is fully on board with this proposal...

Me: Ok then, all we need is a campaign slogan...

JACKSON/LUCY 2020...after Trump, retrieving the best of what’s left!

Words To Live By

The New King James version of the Bible translates Proverbs 14:12 this way...

There is a way which seems right unto a man, but the end thereof leads to death.

The New English Married Couples translation puts it this way...

There is a way which seems right unto a man, but then he runs it by his wife and she says, “What, are you nuts?”

My Election Prediction

No matter where you happen to live in these United States, you have not been able to escape the deluge of political propaganda over the last couple of months. Television ads, radio spots, Facebook videos, and a mailbox stuffed with slickly produced broadsides, all proclaiming this election to be the single most critically important election in the history of our country. In just a few days now, it will all go away. The question of the day is...Will the Democrats take the House, the Senate, or both? Or will the Republicans hold on to one or both? Here’s my prediction:

When we wake up on Wednesday morning, the 7th of November, no matter the outcome, the world will stubbornly, relentlessly refuse to end. When the new Congress convenes in January, whichever side lost will be proven wrong in their overblown rhetoric about the end of days. The side that won will be unable to deliver on any of their arrogant promises. In response to their failures, a new excuse will be made, a new villain identified, which will require lots of fund raising to defeat. Then, when 2020 rolls around, every media outlet on our planet will declare that election to be the the single most critically important election in the history of the country. 

I have made this prediction about election outcomes several times in my life. I have never been wrong.

...Making Us Into Devils

I am currently making my way through Mere Christianity for probably the sixth time. It has always been something of an obsession. I find it at once reassuring and sustaining of my faith, while also convicting of my shortcomings. This time through I was struck by this particular passage from the chapter entitled...Forgiveness. C. S. Lewis’ words about what happens to the human heart when forgiveness is abandoned reads like it was written yesterday, describing as it does the polarizing divisions all around us...

Suppose one reads a story of filthy astrocities in the paper. Then suppose that something turns up suggesting that the story might not be quite true, or not quite so bad as it was made out. Is one’s first feeling, “Thank God, even they aren’t quite so bad as that,” or is it a feeling of disappointment, and even a determination to cling to the first story for the sheer pleasure of thinking your enemies as bad as possible? If it is the second then it is, I am afraid, the first step in a process which, if followed to the end, will make us into devils. You see, one is beginning to wish that black was a little blacker. If we give that wish its head, later on we shall wish to see grey as black, and then to see white itself as black. Finally, we shall insist on seeing everything—God and our friends and ourselves included— as bad, and not be able to stop doing it: we shall be fixed forever in a universe of pure hatred.

Be Better

Friendship is a funny thing. Some friends make perfect sense, others sometime make you shake your head in amazement. This past weekend, I had a visit from one of my head shakers...Deen Entsminger. 

I met Deen seven or eight years ago when my son went down to Belmont University for his audition. Deen would become one of his favorite music professors. We were walking through one of the music buildings on campus when we passed by his office. There he was, dressed in shorts, a festive and quite loud Hawaiian shirt, wearing bright red Converse Chuck Taylor high tops. Instantly, I knew I was gonna like this guy. In the following 4plus years, Pam and I were down for practically every chamber singers concert, partially because we wanted to visit our son, but also because the music that would come pouring out of that group was transcendently beautiful. Much of that beauty was a direct result of this chaotic, passionate, whirling dervish of a conductor. Before long, we became friends, not just acquaintances. Every chance we got, we would volunteer to house his choirs whenever they came through Richmond while on tour. The great thing about our friendship is that we don’t have a long list of things in common. I mean, we both love music, and we both love my son, and we both are quite fond of beer...but that’s about it. We probably don’t vote the same way, or worship the same way. But, none of that stuff matters. He’s just super cool and a blast to hang around.

While he was here over the weekend, I took him over to Big Al’s for a beer and we talked a mile a minute, catching up. We started discussing the sorry state of our politics and all of the hatred that seems to be dividing us. Out of nowhere, he told me a story that I want to share in this space. It was very moving, the kind of story that stays in your heart and mind long after the telling...

Deen is 8 years older than me. When he attended middle school in Virginia Beach, he was there when the first black student was admitted. Deen, like most middle schoolers in the early 60’s in Virginia had had very little exposure to black people. In the weeks leading up to the big day, his parents tried to prepare him for what it might be like. They warned him that because of the poverty that the kid probably lived in, he might not be dressed very well, might not have decent shoes...or shoes at all! Deen had no idea what to expect. When you’ve had no interaction with anyone of a certain race, naturally there is a bit of fear and apprehension. The entire school was filled with tension and anxiety.

The first few days after his arrival, Deen never saw him. But a week or so later, while Deen was at his locker between classes, he spotted him down the hall headed right for him...My heart began beating hard in my chest. I could see that we were going to pass within inches of each other. I was too nervous to even think about speaking! But, I did notice something immediately. He was wearing freshly ironed pants, and a madras shirt, which for an eighth grader was considered high fashion back then. He was impeccably groomed. But, when he passed by something amazing happened. It was the smell that I remember as if it happened yesterday...the fresh, familiar smell of...Ivory Soap. It was amazing, something like a revelation for me...he washed his face with Ivory Soap...just like I did, just like almost all of us did. Maybe we were more alike than we were different? To this day, whenever I smell Ivory Soap, I think of that brave boy...

Maybe this story needs to be told again and again as we approach this election. Despite the screaming headlines, and the voices raised in hatred, when we strip away all the noise, we are more alike as human beings than we are different. The love that is possible between us has got to become stronger than the hatred that so easily ensnares us. We can do better. We can be better.

1968 vs. 2018

Recency bias is the phenomenon that causes people to attach greater significance to things that have just happened than they do things that happened at some time in the past. For example, a young Baltimore Orioles fan might be excused the opinion that the 2018 version of his team was the worst team ever, only because he wasn’t alive to witness the 1962 Mets. A twenty-something kid who laments what has become of pop music today should have heard what it sounded like to live through the 1970’s disco plague.

 But, what about politics? I’m starting to hear this complaint...We are now more divided as a country as we have ever been. 

But, are we?

There is no denying the fact that our politics is toxic. The polarization in Washington is deep and getting deeper. Arguments over politics and politicians are more heated and emotional than they used to be, no question about it. Violence, especially politically tinged violence is on the rise. Our political disagreements are doing damage to friendships, families and entire communities. But, is what we are going through unprecedented? Is it, in fact, worse than ever??

Not even close. What is unique about what divides us today is the fact that we are reminded of those divisions 24/7 by multiple media outlets on radio, television, and social media. This is a very different observation than claiming that the news media is the enemy of the people. It is simply an observation that we all know about the ugliness of our divisions because we are constantly reminded by our technological advancements. This was not true during the Civil War, or even during the worst year I’ve ever lived through as an American...1968. Back then, we were informed of the latest mayhem only once a day, at 6:00pm by Walter Cronkite on a 15 inch black and white television set with rabbit ears. Occasionally there would be an interruption of our regularly scheduled programming for a NEWS BULLETIN, which amounted to Walter letting us know of some especially grevious developement from some riot infested, burning city.

In case you’re wondering, 1968 made 2018 look like a garden party. It featured everything from multiple political assassinations ( Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy), to over a hundred burning cities, a Democratic Party convention that had policemen beating protesters over the heads with clubs, while the Soviet Union was busy sending tanks into Czechoslovakia to destroy a democratic protest, and over 10,000 American soldiers were being killed in battle in Vietnam. I remember sitting on the floor in my grand parent’s trailer watching Robert Kennedy give his victory speech afte the California primary. I was ten years old and just becoming aware of the intensity of events happening all around me. Then, the chaos unfolded live. Something had happened. People were screaming and crying. Roosevelt Greer’s sad face on the television...the senator had been shot while walking through the kitchen of the hotel. Welcome to the land of the grownups, Douglas...

But, as divided as we certainly are right now, I do think that the 24 hour, insatiable news machine has amplified the divisions. How could they not? We can’t escape it. It’s in our face all the time. So, a real and substantive political division in America definitely exists. But, if we had the power or inclination to steal back the oxygen that the news machine sucks out of the room every day, we might discover a way to step back from the vitriol, to place our differences in a more historically accurate context. Maybe then, we will find that a middle way is possible, that an accommodation can be reached, and sanity and basic decency can be restored.

Or...maybe not.