On account of the Memorial Day holiday, like so many others I didn't start my work week until Tuesday. So to avoid two cross country flights and 24 hour turnaround at the house, I decided to stay on the west coast this weekend. Thought I would get my Saturday off to a good start so I headed down to Dennys for a hot meal and to catch up on the local news. It's only two blocks from my pad and a stone’s throw from the UCLA campus.
Glancing through an otherwise very familiar menu, I was blind-sided by the very last page and especially the timing of the matter. It read "For our Guests 55 plus" and listed a dozen or so heart healthy meals at discounted prices. Guests 55 plus? I think that's just code word for Senior Citizens, which is just the politically correct word for Old People.
"Hey wait a second" I gulped rhetorically. I'm hitting the double nickel this week, tomorrow in fact. What a slap-in-the-face wakeup call this was. I felt like I had been drenched in a tub of chilled margarita mix.
I know ole Dennys probably means well, but I don't think I'm quite ready to throw in the towel and lump myself into that geriatric wading pool demographic. Not yet anyway. Just because I've got grand-daughters and get up three times at night to pee, I'm no senior citizen, at least in my mind.
The truth is, except for getting my driver’s license; I can't remember another point in my life where my specific age had anything to do with anything. And I've driven 18 wheelers, spent two days cooking Turducken, and almost went out with Sela Ward, all sorts of things; and not one thing had to do with my age. Well maybe except when I turned fifty and went to Key West with my wife Tina and her two hot sisters. That was a hoot and an ego trip to boot. Total strangers would come up and tell me what a lucky man I was. And I was, but that's another story for another time.
Nope, looking back at it, I seem to remember or classify my life not so much by my age but rather by what I was doing, or who I was with, or where I was living. I never really did pay a lot of attention to my age. Course when you never act your age you don't have to!
Nope Mr Denny. I am going to eat my three eggs over easy and pay full price for now thank you very much. And I'm not going to start living like I'm dying either. I spend way too much time in hospitals and can say first hand that's no way to go. No I'm going to keep on keeping on like I've done for, well for 55 years. Heck fire, I'm still married to the sexiest woman in Southwest Virginia, just about to get the pool room finished, and even started taking electric guitar lessons. So I'm not backing off my throttle in the least. I don't care how much money I can save on pancakes.
I appreciate the reminder Dennys, but I've got miles to go before I sleep, if you catch my drift. But if I ever want some good chipped beef on toast for sixty cents on the dollar, I know where I'm headed.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Friday the 13th- A Very Lucky Day
I work in Los Angeles, 6500 Wilshire Blvd. It's a busy place, part of the Miracle Mile. Among the cars, the cabs, the professionals, the buzz are the less fortunate. People who live on the street, pushing their grocery carts full of plastic bags, newspaper, and a whole assortment of free commodities. Similarly are the panhandlers. Unlike the street people though, the panhandlers will nag you constantly for a dime, spare change, whatever - anything but a job or a professional opinion. I made a conscientious decision the first week out here that I would not buy into their collective guilt trip. In fact, I even came up with a snappy retort "I gave at the last intersection..."So assisting total strangers, that was not part of my M.O., nope not in this city; until last Friday. Something happened that I think I'll never forget.
I was returning from lunch to my office in the 23 story golden glass building. An elderly gentleman, small frame and wearing a plaid coat, carrying a satchel motioned with an arthritic hand and got my attention. I obliged to stop and listen. In broken English and an accent that I would later learn to be Greek, he caught his breath and tried hard in a soft voice to tell me where he was parked. "I was at doctor and parked" he muttered over and over. "I was at doctor and parked".
"Hmm. You were at doctor and parked. Is the doctor here in this building?" I asked.
"No" he responded.
"Are you in the parking lot next door" I pointed guessing maybe he couldn't see the lot.
"No" he said scratching his head.
"Would you like to use my phone" I asked. "Is there anybody you can call?"
"Yes. My wife. " He called out the number. I dialed it. Soon he was speaking to his wife. "I was at doctor and parked....I was at doctor and parked"
He hung up, with no plan or decision that I could detemine from his wife. We didn't seem to be getting anywhere with this.
I escorted him into the lobby, away from the noise of the six lane boulevard. "Do you need help" I asked. "Do you need help finding your car?"
"What kind of car do you drive" I asked taking a look at the vehicles parked on meters just outside.
With a deep sigh, he started rubbing his forehead, and tried to speak, tried to remember.
"It's a B..., ugh a B...." he blurted with frustration.
"A BMW" I guessed trying to help him finish his thought.
With another deep breath and a swell of relief as if a confession, he replied "No. I have to tell you someting. I have Alzheimer’s."
"Oh no." My mind changed gear immediately. Helping this man solve his problem might take a little more than I first thought.
"I had the papers in here" he said opening up his briefcase to show me something that might be of benefit. The satchel was empty.
I called back the same number I had just dialed and introduced myself to his wife. "I think your husband is lost, but I will help him. We are going to try to find his doctor's office. Do you know where his doctor is located" I inquired. "No" she said. "I will have to go see if I can find that on his desk. I will have to call you back."
"So you were at your doctor's office? Did you make it to your doctor's appointment?"
"Yes" "It was doctor, uh, doctor ..........." then realizing he had something of significance in his pants pocket, he reached and pulled out a well folded piece of paper. It was a prescription.
Glancing it over I saw the man's name Bret, Aristed, his birthdate-11/1925. And the name of the Doctor Jamie Mariguchi. No address was listed. I called information.
"Dr Mariguchi's office, may I help you?"
"Yes, did you see a Mr Bret this morning?"
"Yes we did."
"Well I have him with me, but he is lost. Where are you located?"
"Oh my" said the receptionist in a Mexican accent. "We are at 8562 Wilshire. At Wilshire and Ledoux. Thank you very much helping him."
"We will be up there shortly" I told her.
That's four city blocks, and two really big intersections. My new found friend was quite a ways off track. At 86 years old, a walk back might be too much for him. I was surprised he had made it this far without getting hurt. So I called a cab.
Entering the lobby of the clinic Mr Bret immediately had his bearings. As I escorted the old man into the doctor's office, six people working behind the glass all glanced up with expressions of real gratitude and smiles on their face.
"We will call his wife. Thank you so much for helping him. We will take it from here. You are a Good Samaritan" the receptionist stated. "A Good Samaritan."
"You are going to be alright" I told him shaking his hand and headed back down the elevator.
I trembled a bit and almost came to tears walking back to the office, thinking about my mom and dad, and my own pending old age, if this disease should ever strike. Would someone be there if we lost our way?
Alzheimer’s is a frightening condition. But it was an honor helping that man out.
I was returning from lunch to my office in the 23 story golden glass building. An elderly gentleman, small frame and wearing a plaid coat, carrying a satchel motioned with an arthritic hand and got my attention. I obliged to stop and listen. In broken English and an accent that I would later learn to be Greek, he caught his breath and tried hard in a soft voice to tell me where he was parked. "I was at doctor and parked" he muttered over and over. "I was at doctor and parked".
"Hmm. You were at doctor and parked. Is the doctor here in this building?" I asked.
"No" he responded.
"Are you in the parking lot next door" I pointed guessing maybe he couldn't see the lot.
"No" he said scratching his head.
"Would you like to use my phone" I asked. "Is there anybody you can call?"
"Yes. My wife. " He called out the number. I dialed it. Soon he was speaking to his wife. "I was at doctor and parked....I was at doctor and parked"
He hung up, with no plan or decision that I could detemine from his wife. We didn't seem to be getting anywhere with this.
I escorted him into the lobby, away from the noise of the six lane boulevard. "Do you need help" I asked. "Do you need help finding your car?"
"What kind of car do you drive" I asked taking a look at the vehicles parked on meters just outside.
With a deep sigh, he started rubbing his forehead, and tried to speak, tried to remember.
"It's a B..., ugh a B...." he blurted with frustration.
"A BMW" I guessed trying to help him finish his thought.
With another deep breath and a swell of relief as if a confession, he replied "No. I have to tell you someting. I have Alzheimer’s."
"Oh no." My mind changed gear immediately. Helping this man solve his problem might take a little more than I first thought.
"I had the papers in here" he said opening up his briefcase to show me something that might be of benefit. The satchel was empty.
I called back the same number I had just dialed and introduced myself to his wife. "I think your husband is lost, but I will help him. We are going to try to find his doctor's office. Do you know where his doctor is located" I inquired. "No" she said. "I will have to go see if I can find that on his desk. I will have to call you back."
"So you were at your doctor's office? Did you make it to your doctor's appointment?"
"Yes" "It was doctor, uh, doctor ..........." then realizing he had something of significance in his pants pocket, he reached and pulled out a well folded piece of paper. It was a prescription.
Glancing it over I saw the man's name Bret, Aristed, his birthdate-11/1925. And the name of the Doctor Jamie Mariguchi. No address was listed. I called information.
"Dr Mariguchi's office, may I help you?"
"Yes, did you see a Mr Bret this morning?"
"Yes we did."
"Well I have him with me, but he is lost. Where are you located?"
"Oh my" said the receptionist in a Mexican accent. "We are at 8562 Wilshire. At Wilshire and Ledoux. Thank you very much helping him."
"We will be up there shortly" I told her.
That's four city blocks, and two really big intersections. My new found friend was quite a ways off track. At 86 years old, a walk back might be too much for him. I was surprised he had made it this far without getting hurt. So I called a cab.
Entering the lobby of the clinic Mr Bret immediately had his bearings. As I escorted the old man into the doctor's office, six people working behind the glass all glanced up with expressions of real gratitude and smiles on their face.
"We will call his wife. Thank you so much for helping him. We will take it from here. You are a Good Samaritan" the receptionist stated. "A Good Samaritan."
"You are going to be alright" I told him shaking his hand and headed back down the elevator.
I trembled a bit and almost came to tears walking back to the office, thinking about my mom and dad, and my own pending old age, if this disease should ever strike. Would someone be there if we lost our way?
Alzheimer’s is a frightening condition. But it was an honor helping that man out.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Personal Beliefs
I've never heard angels sing, but I did hear the Everly Brothers one night in Sevierville. The harmony was beautiful.
I don't for sure know if God is protecting us, but my youngest son Luke served a tour in Iraq.
I don't know who all will be there to greet me when I'm gone, but I do know how much I love seeing my aunts and uncles at the Family reunion.
I don't think the Ten Commandments are as useful as being honest and keeping your word.
I don't know what kind of table has been prepared for me, but I know my mom sure sets out a beautiful spread at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I do think on Love, but I think another great gift is Awareness.
I can't say for sure that God looks out for me, but my dad did a wonderful job keeping me in line, a good roof over our heads, and food in the fridge when I was growing up.
I don't know what the love of Jesus feels like, but I do know the undying love of a wonderful mother.
I never felt the eternal joy of a personal relationship with Christ, but I do feel daily the tremendous happiness and love from my beautiful wife Tina.
I don't for sure know if God is protecting us, but my youngest son Luke served a tour in Iraq.
I don't know who all will be there to greet me when I'm gone, but I do know how much I love seeing my aunts and uncles at the Family reunion.
I don't think the Ten Commandments are as useful as being honest and keeping your word.
I don't know what kind of table has been prepared for me, but I know my mom sure sets out a beautiful spread at Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I do think on Love, but I think another great gift is Awareness.
I can't say for sure that God looks out for me, but my dad did a wonderful job keeping me in line, a good roof over our heads, and food in the fridge when I was growing up.
I don't know what the love of Jesus feels like, but I do know the undying love of a wonderful mother.
I never felt the eternal joy of a personal relationship with Christ, but I do feel daily the tremendous happiness and love from my beautiful wife Tina.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Number One
It's common practice in the sports world to nominate the best of the best. And why not. There's nothing like a trophy and a little recognition that can bring out the best in a whole pack of folks. College football has its Heisman Trophy winner; pro baseball the Cy Young.
I don't know if the world of religion does this, especially Christianity; but if it does I want to nominate as the Best All Around Christian the guy from Korea who had himself crucified recently. At least I'm hoping it was some sort of an assisted suicide and not a homocide. It's mighty hard to hammer an iron spike into your free hand without a little bit of help.
Did you read about this one? Some fellow in South Korea, his neighbors claim he was very religious. Anyway he had himself crucified, between two other crosses and with a crown of thorns to boot. To top it off, he had a mirror placed el frente just so he could watch himself struggle.
My first reaction- now here's a dude that taking his Sunday go to meeting Bible study way too literal. But maybe, just maybe, I'm the one missing the whole darn boat. That's quite possible.
From what I've read, Jesus didn't take kindly to people who sat on the fence. He wanted real spiritual warriors on his team according to the King James version. You know, people who would give up family, jobs, and eating meat just to follow Him. Our friend from Korea, well he sounds like just the type to jump headfirst in a notion like this. My guess, and I'm just guessing;I'll bet this fellow was sort of a loner type, probably had a hard time keeping a steady job. Again, I don't know any more detail, but I'll even bet he didn't have a girlfriend and probably was a renter. Landed gentry don't go off the handle and crucify themselves that often from what I've read.
But back to our story. This is a pitiful conclusion I don't care how you frame it. Whatever this pour soul's intentions, the ending and the facts don't play out too well. There's nothing about it that sounds sacred or sactimonious or whatever positive religious spin you can put on it. This is a gruesome act from a sick person.
Life is a tough road to hoe. And as much as people want to believe in something, the very least and the very best you can do for ole number one it seems is believe in yourself. You've got to believe in yourself.
I don't know if the world of religion does this, especially Christianity; but if it does I want to nominate as the Best All Around Christian the guy from Korea who had himself crucified recently. At least I'm hoping it was some sort of an assisted suicide and not a homocide. It's mighty hard to hammer an iron spike into your free hand without a little bit of help.
Did you read about this one? Some fellow in South Korea, his neighbors claim he was very religious. Anyway he had himself crucified, between two other crosses and with a crown of thorns to boot. To top it off, he had a mirror placed el frente just so he could watch himself struggle.
My first reaction- now here's a dude that taking his Sunday go to meeting Bible study way too literal. But maybe, just maybe, I'm the one missing the whole darn boat. That's quite possible.
From what I've read, Jesus didn't take kindly to people who sat on the fence. He wanted real spiritual warriors on his team according to the King James version. You know, people who would give up family, jobs, and eating meat just to follow Him. Our friend from Korea, well he sounds like just the type to jump headfirst in a notion like this. My guess, and I'm just guessing;I'll bet this fellow was sort of a loner type, probably had a hard time keeping a steady job. Again, I don't know any more detail, but I'll even bet he didn't have a girlfriend and probably was a renter. Landed gentry don't go off the handle and crucify themselves that often from what I've read.
But back to our story. This is a pitiful conclusion I don't care how you frame it. Whatever this pour soul's intentions, the ending and the facts don't play out too well. There's nothing about it that sounds sacred or sactimonious or whatever positive religious spin you can put on it. This is a gruesome act from a sick person.
Life is a tough road to hoe. And as much as people want to believe in something, the very least and the very best you can do for ole number one it seems is believe in yourself. You've got to believe in yourself.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Tornado
Dear Jesus Christ,
Why did you kill so many nice people in Alabama today. In case you haven't been around in a while, there is not a state in the Union that loves you more than the good people of Alabama. What- were the Japanese getting on your nerves? You only wiped out 10,000 of them last month with your tsunami. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather turn control of the universe back over to mother nature. At least she doesn't pretend to love us all.
Sincerely,
Kirk in California
.
Why did you kill so many nice people in Alabama today. In case you haven't been around in a while, there is not a state in the Union that loves you more than the good people of Alabama. What- were the Japanese getting on your nerves? You only wiped out 10,000 of them last month with your tsunami. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather turn control of the universe back over to mother nature. At least she doesn't pretend to love us all.
Sincerely,
Kirk in California
.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Until Death Us Do Part?
Preachers say the darndest things don’t they? What I’ve noticed, at least here in America, as long as a preacher doesn’t say anything too negative about God or Jesus or especially another religion, why they can get away with spouting just about anything, and nobody will ever call them on it. Of course it’s better when they don’t try to incite an international event like the fellow down in Florida who wanted to burn the Koran last summer. Symbolism pure and simple, but you got to be careful. A lot of these Muslims he’s insulting like to carry knives. And even though most of them still herd sheep and live in the desert, I’m sure there’s a soft copy of the Koran somewhere that somebody could download and crank out millions of new copies in no time just in case he did. So burning a few dozen books in the backyard, I’d say go ahead if it makes you feel better. It won’t make that much difference; just don’t tell anybody.
And you may remember a few years ago, before he died, Jerry Falwell, amidst all the post 9-11 terrorism anxieties, the Iranian nuclear buildup, the African genocides, and the Brittany Spears breakdown, ole Jerry takes his clerical aim at the most sinister threats of them all, Spongebob Squarepaints. Kind of like listening to the Beatles records backwards, Jerry somehow interpreted this cartoon character’s sexual orientation as being too questionable for four and five year olds. In my mind, that’s four words that don’t seem like they would be used in the same sentence, but I know how riled up some parents can get about anything. Seems the hottest character I recall from my growing up days was Fred’s wife Wilma. I guess Spongebob was more of a man than ole Jerry was expecting, because just like Fidel Castro and unlike Jerry, he’s still standing.
Well there’s another one I heard about just the other day. He’s a black preacher from up north, the Reverend Cedric Miller of the Living Word Christian Fellowship Church in Neptune Township, NJ. With the national divorce rate hovering just north of 52%, this cat has decided the number one modern day enemy of the marriage covenant is none other than the web site Facebook. I’ve read where, in the old days, Christian preachers used to stand up against real enemies; Indians and what-not. It seems like preachers today try to draw their line in the sand against some pop cultural phenomenon. I guess you do what you gotta do.
Now I’m semi-new to Facebook having started my own page about a year ago so I’m still trying to get used to it. It is odd how hard it is to find all my friends once I do add them to my site, but that’s another matter. It seems to me that Facebook is just one real long conversation. It never ends, kind of a cross between the old timey chain letters we used to send as kids but without all the stamps and those “brag letters” we used to get at Christmas time. You know the cards you used to get in the mail, right before Christmas when you were broke, or just getting over the crud, or getting your transmission replaced. That extra glitzy Christmas card with the perfect white suburban family of four all decked out at their summer home in Vail or wherever, with the longwinded typewritten personal annual update on the inside. And how the dad got his big promotion, and the mom got in the ladies auxiliary, and junior got into Harvard and little Jenny won homecoming queen. I couldn’t have asked for more self-abuse if I had signed up for Jackass III. That’s a lot of what Facebook is it seems. That or a lot of folks sending instant electronic well wishes when something bad happens. I know their hearts in the right place, but you just can’t beat a good old hand written card sent postal when you really want to express your true feelings.
Anyway, this preacher claims that Facebook is destroying thousands of marriages because, as he has observed, “it can reignite old flames”. I don’t think he’s offering prize money, coupons, or even a logical alternative if they do, but he has challenged his flock to get off of it and shut down their Facebook accounts. If it’s temptations we ought to worry about, I’d be more concerned with new flames rather than old flames, especially some of those hot young blonde headed flames I see everywhere in my travels out to Beverly Hills. I’m 54 and I don’t think I ever once went out with someone I used to date, though it probably could have saved me a little money and a whole lot of mundane conversation if I had. I mean how many times in life can you really ask “So what was your major?!%$^”
I will admit I have been totally taken off guard by so many of the folks I have befriended on FB. Not the ones I live near or see on a weekly basis back home; no I’m talking about all the people I’ve rediscovered that I went to high school and even grammar school with, way back from the 60s. Man o’ man, I don’t know about the friends you’re digging up these days but all mine have gotten old, and some of ‘em real old. It’s almost scary; talk about a time-warp. My last recollection of Susie so n’ so; it was the summer of ’69. She was 14, had a great figure, gorgeous smile, lovely complexion and then whamoo and almost overnight, she’s on Facebook and looks more like one of my great aunts on my dad’s side.
But back to this preacher’s point. I’m sure he has only the best of intentions, doing his best to keep the family unit together. But is logging off Facebook for good really the best answer? Is that how you truly solve infidelity? Heck fire, if you really want to keep the circle unbroken, let’s just get rid of the whole dang Internet while we’re at it. After all, Facebook’s not the only place you might run into an old flame. Ever heard of Linked In? It’s primarily a business site, for professionals at that. That’s why I’m pretty sure you won’t find my first wife on there. But there’s plenty of other successful ex’s on there I’ll bet. There’s hundreds and hundreds of sites that have been set up for the pure purpose of meeting somebody. So you better block these while you’re at it Reverend Miller.
Yep Rev we can do better than that. We ought to take down the entire Internet, give Al Gore his money back, and get life back like it used to be. Then again, was the divorce rate that much better? Back in the good old days, before Facebook, the Internet, and all these modern diversions, there were a lot of old fashioned devices to help you be unfaithful if you felt so inclined. One thing in particular, it was called the telephone. Of course sometimes you might have had to go through the operator, or the phonebook, especially if you had moved, or they had moved. But you could find just about anybody you needed to, and anybody who answered always knew where everybody else was. And there didn’t seem to be all these secret recordings or phone call logs like they have now. Yep the black rotary phone. What a gem.
But we had other methods as well. We had cheap motels, cb radios, happy hours, double dates, ladies nights, playing footsies, sticky notes, weekend trips, late nights at the office, the back row in the movie house, and class reunions. If you were suppose to be in love but still looking for love, why there was no end to the opportunities to make that happen.
You see Cedric, it seems to me that man’s heart hasn’t really changed through the years, only his means. If people are unfulfilled, unhappy, or whatever in a relationship then they are going to wander. I guess that’s one of the downfalls of the modern mobile society we live in. Just imagine, today you can communicate with anybody in the world in a matter of seconds, or minutes if you’re on dial up. And you can literally be anywhere in the world in a matter of hours thanks to the Concorde. So even with six degrees of separation between us, in a wink and for a few bucks you can be wherever with whoever you really want to.
I know a lot of old fogy’s like to put the morals of the good old days on a big high horse pedestal. Then again it was hard to do too much extra- marital socializing when you lived ten miles from your neighbor and had to get around by mule. I’m not sure everybody was so content back then anyway. Just because you’re forced to stay under the same roof all weekend with somebody don’t mean you necessarily like it. No I’m thinking there was probably a whole lot more abuse, and frustration, and discontent going on back in great grandpa’s era than most folks are willing to discuss. Hard to prove for sure, but that’s just my guess.
What I want to know is where is God in all of this? And how come it’s always the guy, or the girl, that gets all the blame? One of the few civil ceremonies we ever perform with God as our witness and still the best we three can pull off is a 48% success rate. That’s not much of a divine partner we got there if you ask me. Most of the time, when somebody is getting ready to stray God is nowhere to be found. But by golly when you get caught, you can’t get Him out of the house.
No, it’s really no surprise how human beings are. If you’ve ever read Freud, he tells us that sex is a mighty strong urge. So even if an otherwise copasetic couple’s romantical side is off just the slightest hair, then that’s grounds for somebody to start looking for replacement parts. I can say first hand especially from my younger days; well having sex was a whole lot like eating out on the road. You didn’t care where you ate; you just needed to grab a bite before you went to sleep.
Of course relationships and marriages are a lot more than just sex; well the ones that last that is. I’m on my third and pretty sure it will be my last. Truly couldn’t be happier, and am flattered at just how many folks back home think my Tina and I are the perfect couple. We really do get along, both giving 110% around the house. She lets me do my thing, and I let her do hers, but we genuinely enjoy all the time we are together and for that I am truly thankful. I feel like I stole the heart of the most beautiful woman in Washington County and me being an outsider to boot. There’s lots of reasons I suppose this one has worked so well. I think age has a lot to do with it, age and maturity. And it wasn’t till my fourth decade on the planet that I finally figured out two valuable lessons in life that have made a whole lot of difference.
1. The only person I can truly control in this world is myself
2. The only person I can truly control in this world is myself
I’ll never know just where I got the notion, but for the longest time, in my twenties and thirties, somehow I thought that I alone could make a wife, my parents, my brother, my sister, not to mention all my customers and my friends; I thought could make them all happy if I could just get them to do what I thought they ought to be doing. That somehow I had life so well figured out, heck I was a college graduate and 29 years old. Anyway I was going to be the real successful one; more than anyone else I was going to parlay that private high school education with that Bachelor of Arts education, a nice head of hair and a good work ethic and be extra-extra, really successful. Of course I needed a little more time on account that I wasn’t anywhere near being successful, though I sure was miserable. But just as soon as I got successful, and rich, why then I would be happy and just like that, ole Kirk was going to make everybody happy. Life was going to be grand.
Well I can say finally that life really is grand, but it’s sure not on account of everybody doing what I think they ought to be doing. In fact, it’s completely opposite of that. Yep I learned a lot of great lessons on the way down and digging myself back out again. One of the true secrets to a great relationship I discovered was not so much finding Mrs. Right but Being Mr. Right.
Oh and by the way, if you do look for me on Facebook, I’m the real young looking guy with the gray beard.
And you may remember a few years ago, before he died, Jerry Falwell, amidst all the post 9-11 terrorism anxieties, the Iranian nuclear buildup, the African genocides, and the Brittany Spears breakdown, ole Jerry takes his clerical aim at the most sinister threats of them all, Spongebob Squarepaints. Kind of like listening to the Beatles records backwards, Jerry somehow interpreted this cartoon character’s sexual orientation as being too questionable for four and five year olds. In my mind, that’s four words that don’t seem like they would be used in the same sentence, but I know how riled up some parents can get about anything. Seems the hottest character I recall from my growing up days was Fred’s wife Wilma. I guess Spongebob was more of a man than ole Jerry was expecting, because just like Fidel Castro and unlike Jerry, he’s still standing.
Well there’s another one I heard about just the other day. He’s a black preacher from up north, the Reverend Cedric Miller of the Living Word Christian Fellowship Church in Neptune Township, NJ. With the national divorce rate hovering just north of 52%, this cat has decided the number one modern day enemy of the marriage covenant is none other than the web site Facebook. I’ve read where, in the old days, Christian preachers used to stand up against real enemies; Indians and what-not. It seems like preachers today try to draw their line in the sand against some pop cultural phenomenon. I guess you do what you gotta do.
Now I’m semi-new to Facebook having started my own page about a year ago so I’m still trying to get used to it. It is odd how hard it is to find all my friends once I do add them to my site, but that’s another matter. It seems to me that Facebook is just one real long conversation. It never ends, kind of a cross between the old timey chain letters we used to send as kids but without all the stamps and those “brag letters” we used to get at Christmas time. You know the cards you used to get in the mail, right before Christmas when you were broke, or just getting over the crud, or getting your transmission replaced. That extra glitzy Christmas card with the perfect white suburban family of four all decked out at their summer home in Vail or wherever, with the longwinded typewritten personal annual update on the inside. And how the dad got his big promotion, and the mom got in the ladies auxiliary, and junior got into Harvard and little Jenny won homecoming queen. I couldn’t have asked for more self-abuse if I had signed up for Jackass III. That’s a lot of what Facebook is it seems. That or a lot of folks sending instant electronic well wishes when something bad happens. I know their hearts in the right place, but you just can’t beat a good old hand written card sent postal when you really want to express your true feelings.
Anyway, this preacher claims that Facebook is destroying thousands of marriages because, as he has observed, “it can reignite old flames”. I don’t think he’s offering prize money, coupons, or even a logical alternative if they do, but he has challenged his flock to get off of it and shut down their Facebook accounts. If it’s temptations we ought to worry about, I’d be more concerned with new flames rather than old flames, especially some of those hot young blonde headed flames I see everywhere in my travels out to Beverly Hills. I’m 54 and I don’t think I ever once went out with someone I used to date, though it probably could have saved me a little money and a whole lot of mundane conversation if I had. I mean how many times in life can you really ask “So what was your major?!%$^”
I will admit I have been totally taken off guard by so many of the folks I have befriended on FB. Not the ones I live near or see on a weekly basis back home; no I’m talking about all the people I’ve rediscovered that I went to high school and even grammar school with, way back from the 60s. Man o’ man, I don’t know about the friends you’re digging up these days but all mine have gotten old, and some of ‘em real old. It’s almost scary; talk about a time-warp. My last recollection of Susie so n’ so; it was the summer of ’69. She was 14, had a great figure, gorgeous smile, lovely complexion and then whamoo and almost overnight, she’s on Facebook and looks more like one of my great aunts on my dad’s side.
But back to this preacher’s point. I’m sure he has only the best of intentions, doing his best to keep the family unit together. But is logging off Facebook for good really the best answer? Is that how you truly solve infidelity? Heck fire, if you really want to keep the circle unbroken, let’s just get rid of the whole dang Internet while we’re at it. After all, Facebook’s not the only place you might run into an old flame. Ever heard of Linked In? It’s primarily a business site, for professionals at that. That’s why I’m pretty sure you won’t find my first wife on there. But there’s plenty of other successful ex’s on there I’ll bet. There’s hundreds and hundreds of sites that have been set up for the pure purpose of meeting somebody. So you better block these while you’re at it Reverend Miller.
Yep Rev we can do better than that. We ought to take down the entire Internet, give Al Gore his money back, and get life back like it used to be. Then again, was the divorce rate that much better? Back in the good old days, before Facebook, the Internet, and all these modern diversions, there were a lot of old fashioned devices to help you be unfaithful if you felt so inclined. One thing in particular, it was called the telephone. Of course sometimes you might have had to go through the operator, or the phonebook, especially if you had moved, or they had moved. But you could find just about anybody you needed to, and anybody who answered always knew where everybody else was. And there didn’t seem to be all these secret recordings or phone call logs like they have now. Yep the black rotary phone. What a gem.
But we had other methods as well. We had cheap motels, cb radios, happy hours, double dates, ladies nights, playing footsies, sticky notes, weekend trips, late nights at the office, the back row in the movie house, and class reunions. If you were suppose to be in love but still looking for love, why there was no end to the opportunities to make that happen.
You see Cedric, it seems to me that man’s heart hasn’t really changed through the years, only his means. If people are unfulfilled, unhappy, or whatever in a relationship then they are going to wander. I guess that’s one of the downfalls of the modern mobile society we live in. Just imagine, today you can communicate with anybody in the world in a matter of seconds, or minutes if you’re on dial up. And you can literally be anywhere in the world in a matter of hours thanks to the Concorde. So even with six degrees of separation between us, in a wink and for a few bucks you can be wherever with whoever you really want to.
I know a lot of old fogy’s like to put the morals of the good old days on a big high horse pedestal. Then again it was hard to do too much extra- marital socializing when you lived ten miles from your neighbor and had to get around by mule. I’m not sure everybody was so content back then anyway. Just because you’re forced to stay under the same roof all weekend with somebody don’t mean you necessarily like it. No I’m thinking there was probably a whole lot more abuse, and frustration, and discontent going on back in great grandpa’s era than most folks are willing to discuss. Hard to prove for sure, but that’s just my guess.
What I want to know is where is God in all of this? And how come it’s always the guy, or the girl, that gets all the blame? One of the few civil ceremonies we ever perform with God as our witness and still the best we three can pull off is a 48% success rate. That’s not much of a divine partner we got there if you ask me. Most of the time, when somebody is getting ready to stray God is nowhere to be found. But by golly when you get caught, you can’t get Him out of the house.
No, it’s really no surprise how human beings are. If you’ve ever read Freud, he tells us that sex is a mighty strong urge. So even if an otherwise copasetic couple’s romantical side is off just the slightest hair, then that’s grounds for somebody to start looking for replacement parts. I can say first hand especially from my younger days; well having sex was a whole lot like eating out on the road. You didn’t care where you ate; you just needed to grab a bite before you went to sleep.
Of course relationships and marriages are a lot more than just sex; well the ones that last that is. I’m on my third and pretty sure it will be my last. Truly couldn’t be happier, and am flattered at just how many folks back home think my Tina and I are the perfect couple. We really do get along, both giving 110% around the house. She lets me do my thing, and I let her do hers, but we genuinely enjoy all the time we are together and for that I am truly thankful. I feel like I stole the heart of the most beautiful woman in Washington County and me being an outsider to boot. There’s lots of reasons I suppose this one has worked so well. I think age has a lot to do with it, age and maturity. And it wasn’t till my fourth decade on the planet that I finally figured out two valuable lessons in life that have made a whole lot of difference.
1. The only person I can truly control in this world is myself
2. The only person I can truly control in this world is myself
I’ll never know just where I got the notion, but for the longest time, in my twenties and thirties, somehow I thought that I alone could make a wife, my parents, my brother, my sister, not to mention all my customers and my friends; I thought could make them all happy if I could just get them to do what I thought they ought to be doing. That somehow I had life so well figured out, heck I was a college graduate and 29 years old. Anyway I was going to be the real successful one; more than anyone else I was going to parlay that private high school education with that Bachelor of Arts education, a nice head of hair and a good work ethic and be extra-extra, really successful. Of course I needed a little more time on account that I wasn’t anywhere near being successful, though I sure was miserable. But just as soon as I got successful, and rich, why then I would be happy and just like that, ole Kirk was going to make everybody happy. Life was going to be grand.
Well I can say finally that life really is grand, but it’s sure not on account of everybody doing what I think they ought to be doing. In fact, it’s completely opposite of that. Yep I learned a lot of great lessons on the way down and digging myself back out again. One of the true secrets to a great relationship I discovered was not so much finding Mrs. Right but Being Mr. Right.
Oh and by the way, if you do look for me on Facebook, I’m the real young looking guy with the gray beard.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Big O
I am grandfather now, have been for a little over a year. Somehow both of my identical twins decided in their own identical twin like way to settle down and start a family just as soon as they could after high school. And my hats off to them I suppose, well to getting married anyway. That saved them, at least from my own personal experience, two decades of drinking beer and chasing women trying to find the one Mrs. Right. So good for them I say. Though this proverbial grandpa hat is one thing I’ve had a mighty time adjusting to. I mean gray hair is one thing I can handle, but having gray hair plus a three foot family offspring with my same surname 53 years younger than I me; well that’s a whole different story. But thankfully I’ve got three healthy, beautiful little grand daughters.
The youngest one will be turning one this summer, same birthday as my little brother’s. But between all the diaper changing, and baby shots, learning to walk, and talk and teething, I’m just wondering when I ought to break the news to her, have that heart to heart, you know be the one to tell her, tell her about the Big O. And no I don’t mean that Big O. I’m sure, if she’s anything at all like her grand-pappy, she’ll find out all about that one in due time. I just hope she’s married, and he’s got a good job. No I’m talking about the other Big O; you know Original Sin.
Like the 800 pound gorilla in the room, Original Sin has been the bedrock of pulpit diatribes and personal assessment for western civilization for almost two thousand years. Somebody, and I’ve studied up on it, somebody, but it wasn’t Jesus, said that all men, and I’m sure he meant women too; anyway all people are born in Original Sin. Eve eats one freaking apple 6570 years ago, and we’re still paying the price. That’s some mighty pricey fruit we’re talking. Must have come from Whole Foods.
Isn’t that a sight? I mean there’s nine months of a mother’s weight gain, morning sickness, contractions, labor pains, all-nighters, lamaz classes, water breaking, financial anxieties, the in-laws getting involved and usually in the way; all the needles and tests, possible deformities, getting laid off from work, all these real life issues and then to top it off there is still Original Sin to worry about? Good Lord can’t we have a break.
That sure is a mighty heavy burden to dump off on a little one year old. Then again I don’t make the rules. I’m just trying to follow them.
Just like learning the truth about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, this isn’t the sort of subject matter that a darling sweet little southern belle ought to hear about from some bully in school or out on the playground. But I’m sure the Sunday school teacher or at least the church pastor will be the one, you know to tell her; tell her that by the mere fact that she somehow was the miraculous offspring of two previously unknown human beings that she is still damned to hell ever-after by her mere birth and that she had damn sure better get her butt into Sunday school and church, if not a convent, and spend the rest of her mortal days showing penance and pleading mercy from God almighty that her precious little soul might be spared from fire and brimstone. If I had had any notion at all when I was that little that this was the way it was, I might have just had my little pee-pee cut off to save all my future bloodline such an eternal burden.
Yea the preacher could be the one, but I think, being family, and now just one heart beat away from being the patriarch at that, I ought to be the one to inform my grand-daughter of her fatal though non-causative error.
Seriously, I know the modern church, especially those great big mega-churches with the orchestras and surround sound, the 24 hour fitness centers, they’ve toned down their hellfire mentality and sermons that lit up many a one-room church house back in the 1700s, but mostly to increase attendance I’m guessing. Heck, I can appreciate that. We’ve all got to pay the mortgage. But the idea of Original Sin is still around. How do you even bring this up in discussion? Haven’t we got too much on our plate to talk about with the youngins anyway? Sweetie, you are a smart, great, loving little kid, and those tap dancing classes are starting to pay off, but you can still spend eternity in hell if you don’t get your act together. It don’t matter how much Mac and cheese and beaney babies you give this kid, that’s just a hard notion to swallow.
Then again, maybe it’s not reality. I’m not sure but when was the last time, I mean when was the last time that somebody, anybody went in and checked the status or asked a few questions or renegotiated or changed the terms or something. They’re doing stuff like this in California all the time with all those Proposition 18s or 32s on the ballot. I’m reminded of the Mayberry episode about the two families feuding- the Carters and the Wakefields. Andy got to studying and realized that neither family had hit the other shooting for eighty seven years. So he drove up and asked Mr. Carter “Why are you shooting at him?” “Cause he’s a Wakefield.” “But why are you shooting at the Wakefields? “Cause we’re a feuding.” Sometimes it’s hard to get a straight answer.
I do believe if I were born on a flat rock, and lived on that same flat rock my entire days the idea of being born in Original Sin is not one I would come up in forty seven lifetimes. I would probably learn hunger, and pain, cold, sexual urges, heat, loneliness, and anxiety, and joy, and sorrow, all the basic temperaments, but being born in sin? Where the heck would you ever get an idea like that, unless, well unless you went to a church and heard it preached. It’s moments like this when I am reminded of what the late comedian Richard Prior said; “you know God didn’t write anything down”. So true Richard, so true.
Nope it seems the people we got on our side, or at least the ones that always act like they’re own our side, the preachers that is, they want to just keep this ole feud a going and going as long as they can. Again, even though they’re preachers, they still got bills to pay. After all we do live in a real world. My guess, and its just a guess, but the longer a fellow can keep a man feeling a bit guilty about something, then the longer he can keep him under his thumb and coming back for more. Heck fire, a man who’s got a good strong self image, and a little confidence, why he don’t need to cow tow to trash talk like that. Come to think of it, the best message a preacher could ever share would be “Brothers and sisters, you are all ok, just the way you are. Go out and be free.” I know it doesn’t come from Scripture, but there is one school of thought going around that suggests that as thinking rational beings, we have all the tools necessary to handle any problem life throws our way, and without all the baggage. Check this out:
1. Reality exists as an objective absolute—facts are facts, independent of man’s feelings, wishes, hopes or fears.
2. Reason (the faculty which identifies and integrates the material provided by man’s senses) is man’s only means of perceiving reality, his only source of knowledge, his only guide to action, and his basic means of survival.
3. Man—every man—is an end in himself, not the means to the ends of others. He must exist for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself. The pursuit of his own rational self-interest and of his own happiness is the highest moral purpose of his life.
4. The ideal political-economic system is laissez-faire capitalism It is a system where men deal with one another, not as victims and executioners, nor as masters and slaves, but as traders, by free, voluntary exchange to mutual benefit. It is a system where no man may obtain any values from others by resorting to physical force, and no man may initiate the use of physical force against others. The government acts only as a policeman that protects man’s rights; it uses physical force only in retaliation and only against those who initiate its use, such as criminals or foreign invaders. In a system of full capitalism, there should be (but, historically, has not yet been) a complete separation of state and economics, in the same way and for the same reasons as the separation of state and church
A belief like this, well it won’t have near as many followers as say, Baptists, and it probably doesn’t lend itself to any children’s plays, especially around the holidays. But it sure can clear off the calendar on the weekends, and think of the money you’ll save on dry cleaning. Philosophers refer to this as Objectivism; I call it plain ole common sense; common sense as opposed to just wishful thinking.
I know some ideas are hard to change, but the notion of Original Sin is ridiculous. I mean how do you even prove something like that? Do a 360 exam, or how about a Rorschach test, or maybe a DNA sample, a blood test, or just a simple true and false. You suppose any of those could prove such? I think about my late grandmother, on my dad’s side. In all my days there has never ever been a sweeter person. Worked hard around the farm, always had a smile on her face, a great cook, and I only saw her mad one time. She did love her Bible, but I’d say she was just good folk to begin with.
I know some people get off on the wrong foot and get into all sorts of meanness. My guess is that’s a lot of it is environmental, maybe if they had had a little better upbringing, structure of some sort, or at least a dad around the house, things might have turned out different.
When I think back on it, seem like the times I’ve done the most wrong was either when I was drunk or broke. Though there was a situation once, back when I was in the 7th grade. The school I went to, we had an honor code and had to sign every exam and paper with “On my honor as a gentleman, I have neither given nor received aid on this examination.” One time in English class I turned my paper in but did not sign it. My teacher, Mrs. Bowen, what a fine educator she was; anyway she called me up to her desk the next day and said “Kirk, you forgot to sign your paper.” “But I can’t sign that paper Mrs. Bowen” I replied, “My dad helped me.”
Dad, well my dad is a very smart man, and I know he was toting a pretty big bill just sending me to this particular school. So at times it was a team effort getting me through there. Anyway, he got involved in reviewing my work the night before I turned it in, and let’s just say he got a little over zealous doing it. But in my mind, and back to the honor code, to me the worst thing I could do would be to get help and still sign that paper. Now that would be wrong.
From her reaction, I don’t think Mrs. Bowen had ever had a situation quite like this one, a sort of ethical pickle I could see Opie getting into with Miss Crump. Well, she asked me to do another paper so I did. I don’t remember showing this one to my dad. Still I wonder, is this when sin reared its ugly head?
And then, there was a time during my first marriage when things were mighty, mighty tough, though it was nobody’s fault but my own; well me and this woman I was engaged in premarital intercourse with. I’m guessing even Bill Gates would have had a hard time going from taking care of one to four and almost over night. Remember I had twins.
It wasn’t a ten commandment I broke that day, but it still left me feeling pretty bad about myself. I was broke; my straight commission sales job just wasn’t panning out in the least. I had to drive up to Kentucky for a job interview; somebody my dad had lined up for me. I’m just lucky it wasn’t an overnighter. Anyway I was heading back home to Knoxville down I-75, and the gas tank in the big brown Buick station-wagon said EMPTY in big orange lights. Anymore keeping gas in the vehicle isn’t that a big deal, knock on wood, but on this particular day I was flat broke. I didn’t have a single dime on me. Couldn’t call my wife; heck she was no help either when it came to contributing to the family finance.
It’s funny how creative a body can get when they’re in that kind of circumstance. Survival is a mighty strong instinct. I thought about hitting a Stop and Go real quick, pumping a few gallons and driving off; but that’s all I needed, to be the butt-end of an all points bulletin somewhere for a ten dollar misdemeanor.
Anyway I remember it was around Labor Day, and it struck me, just like the people that had come knocking at our house, I could go door to door and ask people if they wanted to contribute to the Jerry Lewis telethon. All I had to do was ask them a question. This wasn’t no strong armed robbery b-s, something a lot less dangerous with a feel good kicker. I just wanted to get home. It so happened that there was little can in my backseat, so that’s what I did. Pulled off the big road, found a neighborhood, grabbed my can and started knocking on doors. In no time at all, I had eight bucks, just enough cash on hand to get back to the Knoxville city limits.
I felt bad about that, slowly driving south down the interstate, a lot of a lot nicer cars zooming by; still do to this day. Oh, I’ve paid it back and ten fold in contributions to the MD Telethon. Pride and desperation can be a tough thing to reconcile at times, especially for a young person.
And there was this other time, it also involved money. I got a great idea about putting travel information in an audio format, so I started a company called Travel Tapes. A one-man show, I did everything; did the research, wrote the scripts, did the narration, interviewed folks, even handled all the distribution and marketing. My tapes were mentioned in the New York Times, Southern Living; and even the Journal of American Culture regarded them as “Highly recommended”. So much for good press, the bottom line after three years was that I could not achieve a self sustaining level of income. I don’t think it was a sin, but it sure made me feel bad, telling my friend at the printing company that I couldn’t pay the $1500 bill I owed him.
In my experiences, life can be hard enough, even when you’re trying to do the right thing to worry about something as abstract, as old fashioned, and irrelevant as Original Sin. I didn’t wake up worrying about killing somebody, bearing false witness, or making idols; I was just trying to make it to the next payday and take care of my family.
Like a lot of faiths, and it can be a bit hard to pinpoint just where a specific belief comes from. Though I’ve done my research. The idea of Original Sin, first of all, is only carried by Christians. Jews, Hindus and Muslims don’t cotton to it too much. They seem a lot more easy going on their membership, at least when it comes to the blame game. While Original Sin is not mentioned in the Bible per-se, Charles Ryrie, the Ryrie of the study Bible by the same name, suggests “we are not just the offspring of Adam, but we were also a part of Adam and participated in his sin”. To which I say “huh?” Your honor, not only was I not in the same room as the defendant, I wasn't even in the same millenium! You know what that sounds like, that sounds a whole lot like black people wanting us to pay financial retributions for slavery or Barrack Obama apologizing to every nation on his global tour for America’s prosperity. No wonder so many people can’t take responsibility for their own actions. They’ve been programmed since day 1 they don’t have to.
Ryrie goes on to say that “I did not say that original sin is biblical. I said that it is based upon the decision of an official Church Council”; there we go again, sounds like something our Federal Government would get into and mandate.
Two thousand years of processing that we’re doomed from the get-go may have taken its toll on our collective human psyche; could go a long way to explaining our country’s affinity for drugs, alcohol, sex, sports, laptops, lap dances, cell phones, television and every other which away you can temporarily distract yourself from the human condition. Polls show our feelings of hope about the future are hitting all time lows; but even though I didn’t vote for him, I refuse to blame Obama for everything. I say it’s time the Church and its message get’s her fair share of the blame game.
I say it’s time for some real hope and change. I don’t think we as a nation are handling this spiritual beat-down well at all. Recent studies show that people in Luxembourg are not only the happiest people in the world, but they also consume the most alcohol per capita. Heck we came in 17th and could probably learn a lot from a country like that. But there is hope. I say we need to ditch this Original Sin notion and “papa get a brand new bag”, come up with something a little more encouraging but in a practical way. How about this- try to make good decisions and do what you say your going to do, or bad things do happen in life but not because we are born bad people.
Yep, this idea of sin isn’t too original. We all make mistakes, but my guess is that they don’t come with the eternal implication that so many would have you believe. I guess the best thing to do is to try to learn from them, don’t repeat ‘em if you can, don’t beat yourself up about it, and try to make right to anybody you did wrong. And if you need help, ask for help. There are plenty of good people willing to give it.
Yep, I think that’s what I’m going to try and teach my little grand daughter.
Ps- Thirteen years after my Travel Tapes went defunct, I paid off the $1500 debt to that printing company. They sent me one of the nicest letters I’ve ever received………..
The youngest one will be turning one this summer, same birthday as my little brother’s. But between all the diaper changing, and baby shots, learning to walk, and talk and teething, I’m just wondering when I ought to break the news to her, have that heart to heart, you know be the one to tell her, tell her about the Big O. And no I don’t mean that Big O. I’m sure, if she’s anything at all like her grand-pappy, she’ll find out all about that one in due time. I just hope she’s married, and he’s got a good job. No I’m talking about the other Big O; you know Original Sin.
Like the 800 pound gorilla in the room, Original Sin has been the bedrock of pulpit diatribes and personal assessment for western civilization for almost two thousand years. Somebody, and I’ve studied up on it, somebody, but it wasn’t Jesus, said that all men, and I’m sure he meant women too; anyway all people are born in Original Sin. Eve eats one freaking apple 6570 years ago, and we’re still paying the price. That’s some mighty pricey fruit we’re talking. Must have come from Whole Foods.
Isn’t that a sight? I mean there’s nine months of a mother’s weight gain, morning sickness, contractions, labor pains, all-nighters, lamaz classes, water breaking, financial anxieties, the in-laws getting involved and usually in the way; all the needles and tests, possible deformities, getting laid off from work, all these real life issues and then to top it off there is still Original Sin to worry about? Good Lord can’t we have a break.
That sure is a mighty heavy burden to dump off on a little one year old. Then again I don’t make the rules. I’m just trying to follow them.
Just like learning the truth about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, this isn’t the sort of subject matter that a darling sweet little southern belle ought to hear about from some bully in school or out on the playground. But I’m sure the Sunday school teacher or at least the church pastor will be the one, you know to tell her; tell her that by the mere fact that she somehow was the miraculous offspring of two previously unknown human beings that she is still damned to hell ever-after by her mere birth and that she had damn sure better get her butt into Sunday school and church, if not a convent, and spend the rest of her mortal days showing penance and pleading mercy from God almighty that her precious little soul might be spared from fire and brimstone. If I had had any notion at all when I was that little that this was the way it was, I might have just had my little pee-pee cut off to save all my future bloodline such an eternal burden.
Yea the preacher could be the one, but I think, being family, and now just one heart beat away from being the patriarch at that, I ought to be the one to inform my grand-daughter of her fatal though non-causative error.
Seriously, I know the modern church, especially those great big mega-churches with the orchestras and surround sound, the 24 hour fitness centers, they’ve toned down their hellfire mentality and sermons that lit up many a one-room church house back in the 1700s, but mostly to increase attendance I’m guessing. Heck, I can appreciate that. We’ve all got to pay the mortgage. But the idea of Original Sin is still around. How do you even bring this up in discussion? Haven’t we got too much on our plate to talk about with the youngins anyway? Sweetie, you are a smart, great, loving little kid, and those tap dancing classes are starting to pay off, but you can still spend eternity in hell if you don’t get your act together. It don’t matter how much Mac and cheese and beaney babies you give this kid, that’s just a hard notion to swallow.
Then again, maybe it’s not reality. I’m not sure but when was the last time, I mean when was the last time that somebody, anybody went in and checked the status or asked a few questions or renegotiated or changed the terms or something. They’re doing stuff like this in California all the time with all those Proposition 18s or 32s on the ballot. I’m reminded of the Mayberry episode about the two families feuding- the Carters and the Wakefields. Andy got to studying and realized that neither family had hit the other shooting for eighty seven years. So he drove up and asked Mr. Carter “Why are you shooting at him?” “Cause he’s a Wakefield.” “But why are you shooting at the Wakefields? “Cause we’re a feuding.” Sometimes it’s hard to get a straight answer.
I do believe if I were born on a flat rock, and lived on that same flat rock my entire days the idea of being born in Original Sin is not one I would come up in forty seven lifetimes. I would probably learn hunger, and pain, cold, sexual urges, heat, loneliness, and anxiety, and joy, and sorrow, all the basic temperaments, but being born in sin? Where the heck would you ever get an idea like that, unless, well unless you went to a church and heard it preached. It’s moments like this when I am reminded of what the late comedian Richard Prior said; “you know God didn’t write anything down”. So true Richard, so true.
Nope it seems the people we got on our side, or at least the ones that always act like they’re own our side, the preachers that is, they want to just keep this ole feud a going and going as long as they can. Again, even though they’re preachers, they still got bills to pay. After all we do live in a real world. My guess, and its just a guess, but the longer a fellow can keep a man feeling a bit guilty about something, then the longer he can keep him under his thumb and coming back for more. Heck fire, a man who’s got a good strong self image, and a little confidence, why he don’t need to cow tow to trash talk like that. Come to think of it, the best message a preacher could ever share would be “Brothers and sisters, you are all ok, just the way you are. Go out and be free.” I know it doesn’t come from Scripture, but there is one school of thought going around that suggests that as thinking rational beings, we have all the tools necessary to handle any problem life throws our way, and without all the baggage. Check this out:
1. Reality exists as an objective absolute—facts are facts, independent of man’s feelings, wishes, hopes or fears.
2. Reason (the faculty which identifies and integrates the material provided by man’s senses) is man’s only means of perceiving reality, his only source of knowledge, his only guide to action, and his basic means of survival.
3. Man—every man—is an end in himself, not the means to the ends of others. He must exist for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself. The pursuit of his own rational self-interest and of his own happiness is the highest moral purpose of his life.
4. The ideal political-economic system is laissez-faire capitalism It is a system where men deal with one another, not as victims and executioners, nor as masters and slaves, but as traders, by free, voluntary exchange to mutual benefit. It is a system where no man may obtain any values from others by resorting to physical force, and no man may initiate the use of physical force against others. The government acts only as a policeman that protects man’s rights; it uses physical force only in retaliation and only against those who initiate its use, such as criminals or foreign invaders. In a system of full capitalism, there should be (but, historically, has not yet been) a complete separation of state and economics, in the same way and for the same reasons as the separation of state and church
A belief like this, well it won’t have near as many followers as say, Baptists, and it probably doesn’t lend itself to any children’s plays, especially around the holidays. But it sure can clear off the calendar on the weekends, and think of the money you’ll save on dry cleaning. Philosophers refer to this as Objectivism; I call it plain ole common sense; common sense as opposed to just wishful thinking.
I know some ideas are hard to change, but the notion of Original Sin is ridiculous. I mean how do you even prove something like that? Do a 360 exam, or how about a Rorschach test, or maybe a DNA sample, a blood test, or just a simple true and false. You suppose any of those could prove such? I think about my late grandmother, on my dad’s side. In all my days there has never ever been a sweeter person. Worked hard around the farm, always had a smile on her face, a great cook, and I only saw her mad one time. She did love her Bible, but I’d say she was just good folk to begin with.
I know some people get off on the wrong foot and get into all sorts of meanness. My guess is that’s a lot of it is environmental, maybe if they had had a little better upbringing, structure of some sort, or at least a dad around the house, things might have turned out different.
When I think back on it, seem like the times I’ve done the most wrong was either when I was drunk or broke. Though there was a situation once, back when I was in the 7th grade. The school I went to, we had an honor code and had to sign every exam and paper with “On my honor as a gentleman, I have neither given nor received aid on this examination.” One time in English class I turned my paper in but did not sign it. My teacher, Mrs. Bowen, what a fine educator she was; anyway she called me up to her desk the next day and said “Kirk, you forgot to sign your paper.” “But I can’t sign that paper Mrs. Bowen” I replied, “My dad helped me.”
Dad, well my dad is a very smart man, and I know he was toting a pretty big bill just sending me to this particular school. So at times it was a team effort getting me through there. Anyway, he got involved in reviewing my work the night before I turned it in, and let’s just say he got a little over zealous doing it. But in my mind, and back to the honor code, to me the worst thing I could do would be to get help and still sign that paper. Now that would be wrong.
From her reaction, I don’t think Mrs. Bowen had ever had a situation quite like this one, a sort of ethical pickle I could see Opie getting into with Miss Crump. Well, she asked me to do another paper so I did. I don’t remember showing this one to my dad. Still I wonder, is this when sin reared its ugly head?
And then, there was a time during my first marriage when things were mighty, mighty tough, though it was nobody’s fault but my own; well me and this woman I was engaged in premarital intercourse with. I’m guessing even Bill Gates would have had a hard time going from taking care of one to four and almost over night. Remember I had twins.
It wasn’t a ten commandment I broke that day, but it still left me feeling pretty bad about myself. I was broke; my straight commission sales job just wasn’t panning out in the least. I had to drive up to Kentucky for a job interview; somebody my dad had lined up for me. I’m just lucky it wasn’t an overnighter. Anyway I was heading back home to Knoxville down I-75, and the gas tank in the big brown Buick station-wagon said EMPTY in big orange lights. Anymore keeping gas in the vehicle isn’t that a big deal, knock on wood, but on this particular day I was flat broke. I didn’t have a single dime on me. Couldn’t call my wife; heck she was no help either when it came to contributing to the family finance.
It’s funny how creative a body can get when they’re in that kind of circumstance. Survival is a mighty strong instinct. I thought about hitting a Stop and Go real quick, pumping a few gallons and driving off; but that’s all I needed, to be the butt-end of an all points bulletin somewhere for a ten dollar misdemeanor.
Anyway I remember it was around Labor Day, and it struck me, just like the people that had come knocking at our house, I could go door to door and ask people if they wanted to contribute to the Jerry Lewis telethon. All I had to do was ask them a question. This wasn’t no strong armed robbery b-s, something a lot less dangerous with a feel good kicker. I just wanted to get home. It so happened that there was little can in my backseat, so that’s what I did. Pulled off the big road, found a neighborhood, grabbed my can and started knocking on doors. In no time at all, I had eight bucks, just enough cash on hand to get back to the Knoxville city limits.
I felt bad about that, slowly driving south down the interstate, a lot of a lot nicer cars zooming by; still do to this day. Oh, I’ve paid it back and ten fold in contributions to the MD Telethon. Pride and desperation can be a tough thing to reconcile at times, especially for a young person.
And there was this other time, it also involved money. I got a great idea about putting travel information in an audio format, so I started a company called Travel Tapes. A one-man show, I did everything; did the research, wrote the scripts, did the narration, interviewed folks, even handled all the distribution and marketing. My tapes were mentioned in the New York Times, Southern Living; and even the Journal of American Culture regarded them as “Highly recommended”. So much for good press, the bottom line after three years was that I could not achieve a self sustaining level of income. I don’t think it was a sin, but it sure made me feel bad, telling my friend at the printing company that I couldn’t pay the $1500 bill I owed him.
In my experiences, life can be hard enough, even when you’re trying to do the right thing to worry about something as abstract, as old fashioned, and irrelevant as Original Sin. I didn’t wake up worrying about killing somebody, bearing false witness, or making idols; I was just trying to make it to the next payday and take care of my family.
Like a lot of faiths, and it can be a bit hard to pinpoint just where a specific belief comes from. Though I’ve done my research. The idea of Original Sin, first of all, is only carried by Christians. Jews, Hindus and Muslims don’t cotton to it too much. They seem a lot more easy going on their membership, at least when it comes to the blame game. While Original Sin is not mentioned in the Bible per-se, Charles Ryrie, the Ryrie of the study Bible by the same name, suggests “we are not just the offspring of Adam, but we were also a part of Adam and participated in his sin”. To which I say “huh?” Your honor, not only was I not in the same room as the defendant, I wasn't even in the same millenium! You know what that sounds like, that sounds a whole lot like black people wanting us to pay financial retributions for slavery or Barrack Obama apologizing to every nation on his global tour for America’s prosperity. No wonder so many people can’t take responsibility for their own actions. They’ve been programmed since day 1 they don’t have to.
Ryrie goes on to say that “I did not say that original sin is biblical. I said that it is based upon the decision of an official Church Council”; there we go again, sounds like something our Federal Government would get into and mandate.
Two thousand years of processing that we’re doomed from the get-go may have taken its toll on our collective human psyche; could go a long way to explaining our country’s affinity for drugs, alcohol, sex, sports, laptops, lap dances, cell phones, television and every other which away you can temporarily distract yourself from the human condition. Polls show our feelings of hope about the future are hitting all time lows; but even though I didn’t vote for him, I refuse to blame Obama for everything. I say it’s time the Church and its message get’s her fair share of the blame game.
I say it’s time for some real hope and change. I don’t think we as a nation are handling this spiritual beat-down well at all. Recent studies show that people in Luxembourg are not only the happiest people in the world, but they also consume the most alcohol per capita. Heck we came in 17th and could probably learn a lot from a country like that. But there is hope. I say we need to ditch this Original Sin notion and “papa get a brand new bag”, come up with something a little more encouraging but in a practical way. How about this- try to make good decisions and do what you say your going to do, or bad things do happen in life but not because we are born bad people.
Yep, this idea of sin isn’t too original. We all make mistakes, but my guess is that they don’t come with the eternal implication that so many would have you believe. I guess the best thing to do is to try to learn from them, don’t repeat ‘em if you can, don’t beat yourself up about it, and try to make right to anybody you did wrong. And if you need help, ask for help. There are plenty of good people willing to give it.
Yep, I think that’s what I’m going to try and teach my little grand daughter.
Ps- Thirteen years after my Travel Tapes went defunct, I paid off the $1500 debt to that printing company. They sent me one of the nicest letters I’ve ever received………..
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