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Sunday, December 4, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
My Review of "Atlas Shrugged"
Book Review: ATLAS SHRUGGED, by Ayn Rand, 1957 (September 2009)
I have wanted to read ATLAS SHRUGGED for over 20 years. I first learned about the book and its author in college, when a classmate of mine read it and tried to persuade me to tackle its formidable subject matter. Back then, as a student pursuing a BA in English, I was up to my eyebrows in other literature that was assigned by my professors, and the various other required readings of my coursework. After getting a taste of lengthy tomes by Thomas Mann, DH Lawrence and some guy named Dostoevsky, I really wasn’t excited about the prospect of trying to squeeze in a novel written in 1957 by a Russian cum American who decided to write a 1,200 page novel on the virtues of capitalism.
For those who have not heard of Ayn Rand, she (yes, she; I thought for many years that Ayn was a Russian name for a man) was born in the Communist Soviet Union and somehow managed to arrive in America in the 1940s and fully embraced the spirit of American capitalism and what both the American and the Industrial Revolution had done for this country. All I knew about ATLAS SHRUGGED was that it was some broad piece of fiction about how the entrepreneurs of this country controlled the agenda of America. Let me give you a brief synopsis of the book; and for those who are enticed to read it, I won’t give a away the ending of the book here, but will do so at the end of this review for those of you who don’t wish to commit three months to read the book (this is how long it took me – I started it Memorial Day weekend and finished it Labor Day weekend –ironic for reasons which you shall soon learn).
PLOT: What would happen if the Prime Movers of this country – i.e., the Industrialists, the Entrepreneurs, the lovers of free enterprise who yearn for freedom to produce with minimal government interference – decided that the growing intervention of the government was so intrusive that THEY decided to go on strike? Not the workers that they employ, but they, the very drivers of a free economy, decide to lay down their arms and disappear into an unknown location, leaving the American economy in the hands of those government bureaucrats who love to tinker, mingle and interfere with private business, taxing and redistributing the wealth that these prime movers had created.
To put it in a modern context: What if Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, Steven Jobs, Michael Dell, Sam Walton (were he alive) and others like them simply walked away, said “enough” and let the government take over private industry ? To some of my liberal friends, this probably sounds like a fantasy that only Ted Kennedy could have dreamed up. To Ayn Rand, it was a nightmare scenario that she wrote 52 years ago that appears to be eerily coming true. (Think General Motors becoming Government Motors, etc.)
The main characters in this story are: Dagny Taggart, the heroine of the story, whose family pioneered the Taggart Transcontinental Railroad, and who runs that railroad with her liberal, politically-correct brother, Jim. Hank Reardon, a metallurgist who discovers a new kind of alloy to make steel for railroads and other building purposes; Francisco D’Anconia, a Spanish billionaire whose family had, for three generations, perfected copper mining across Europe and the Americas; and, finally, the novel’s mysterious character, John Galt, who represents the ideal of the American Entrepreneur.
The reader is introduced to John Galt in the book’s opening line, in the form of a question that is asked repeatedly throughout the first 800 pages: “Who is John Galt?” This question is a “catch phrase” of the characters in this novel, and throughout the book, at key junctures in the plot development, the aforementioned characters (lacking any answers to the dizzying efforts of the government to mess with their business) ask this question rhetorically. We don’t really know who John Galt is, or why people are asking this question throughout the first two-thirds of the book.
However, slowly and surely, Rand begins to decode this question, and we learn the following: John Galt was the brightest and most promising entrepreneur that America had ever produced. He was inventing and developing a motor that ran off of kinetic energy. His invention, if refined and mass produced, would have saved billions of dollars in energy costs and revolutionized the way businesses was done and the way common people could live. His engine could drastically have improved the quality of life of people across the world. However, Galt mysteriously disappeared 12 years prior to the novel’s opening, and most people believe that he – much like the mythical world of Atlantis – never really existed and that the ideals that surround him are mere fiction.
One by one, the “movers” or entrepreneurs introduced in this novel mysteriously disappear. The reader does not know if they are being wiped out by the government, or if they are leaving of their own accord. What is obvious is that their departure slowly begins to trigger higher and higher levels of government intervention. And the results are disastrous. Rand has a knack for creating perfectly despicable government characters that show up on the scene. Imagine Nancy Pelosi , Harry Reid and Rahm Emmanuel arriving to save the day every time a business goes under, proclaiming that they will run the business with a spirit of “altruism.” Their real agenda is wealth redistribution. They introduce unions and fair labor practices which further cripple American business. The aforementioned main characters are fighting valiantly to oppose government intervention. Their frustration levels build to a crescendo as their business associates and fellow industrialists disappear without warning.
Finally, we get the critical reveal to the novel (unfortunately, the reader is 800 pages into the book before this key event transpires): John Galt exists and is alive. And, he is systematically persuading America’s entrepreneurs to give the government exactly what it wants – a business landscape free of profit-motivated leaders who act in their own self-interest. This is where the book takes an almost “science fiction” turn. The “movers” are all now living in a secret hideaway in the Rocky Mountains, where they have created a capitalistic utopia where everyone works, no one receives anything for free, and where the gold standard is the basis of money. Entrepreneurs gain access by invitation only to this enclave, and once there, they agree to never go back to normal civilization until the government decides to step aside and give entrepreneurs the freedom they need to lead.
For Ayn Rand, much like Adam Smith who wrote THE WEALTH OF NATIONS some 200 years before her, acting in self-interest is the highest virtue that a man can exhibit. Adam Smith wrote of the “invisible hand” of the American economy, that guided the butcher and the baker in the 1700’s to act greedily. By acting in greed, the pragmatic outcomes resulted in a fierce free enterprise system that promoted competition. And this competition resulted in excellent products created with great efficiency. And this efficiency resulted in lower costs. And the “unintended consequences” of all of this ultimately benefitted the “common man” by the availability and affordability of excellent products that were produced under a system with little to no government interference. Smith’s writings were the inspiration of America’s Economy until World War II, where American policy drastically shifted with the Great Depression and FDR’s New Deal. (More comments on this later).
At this point, you are either enticed to read this novel or not. For those who are, read on for some additional thoughts about why this novel is worth the read, but how its underlying themes are dangerously opposed to a Christian world-life view.
First of all, a few comments on Ayn Rand: The woman never chooses to say in 20 words what she can say in 200. That is to say, the sheer volume of this work is almost overwhelming. Speeches by main characters last for dozens of pages. Two cases in point: Francisco D’Anconia has a speech on the merits of greed and the goodness of money that lasts 10 pages (move over, Gordon Gecko); and, the climatic ending where John Galt himself hijacks the national telecommunications system and delivers a soliloquy on his philosophy (err, Ayn Rand’s philosophy) last for 60 --- yes SIXTY – painstaking pages!
This leads me to my second comment on reading Ayn Rand: If you appreciate allegory and metaphor and something that leaves a little to the imagination, ATLAS SHRUGGED is not for you. Rand sees no shame in making her characters overtly didactic – that is, they bludgeon you with the philosophy of Objectivism (Rand’s world life view would come to be known as this). It’s not just a baseball bat to the head…it’s an all-out, in your face assault rifle that leaves no stone unturned as to where the author stands on the topic of governments and capitalism.
Ayn Rand is a philosopher in a novelist body. I found parts of the book to be heavy handed and overtly preachy. But, by the end of the book, there is no confusion as to where she stands. So, if you find yourself frustrated with the subtle allegories of other contemporary American literature, you might enjoy the 2 x 4 to the head that is ATLAS SHRUGGED.
I need to include my own opinion of Objectivism. This school of thought is that Man’s chief objective is to pursue his own happiness and self interest with full respect for individual rights. In fact, each of the main characters in this book say the following phrase verbatim, at least once:
“I swear – by my life and my love of it – that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.”
To followers of Objectivism, self-reliance is the highest virtue. Those born with the smarts to be entrepreneurs should be in charge, and those without such smarts – well, let’s just say that Rand would have very little use for you (us!). I have to wholeheartedly reject this self-absorbed view of life. Rand is able to conveniently avoid the topics of “what to do with the impoverished” or “what to do with the mentally ill or mentally retarded people” of the world. In her novels, only two types of people exist: Those who do, and those who mooch of those who do! It’s a naïve and black and white approach that simply avoids the reality that not everyone can run their own business.
As a Christian, I am forced to deal with Rand’s ideas, and not throw the baby out with the bathwater. The Bible teaches that if a man does not work, he should not eat (II Thessalonians 3:10) and backs this notion up in I Timothy when it exhorts men to take care of their immediate families, and if they don’t – they are called “worse than unbelievers.” So, this type of laissez faire approach appeals to many Christians. However, a Christian would be hard-pressed to swallow Rand’s hook altogether. There are just too many Biblical mandates to deny one’s self in the Bible. And according to Rand, one should not only NEVER deny oneself, one should ALWAYS act in his own selfish best interests.
This point is made known towards the book’s end, where Rand rails against the “mystic spirits” who have invented God as means to manipulate lower-thinkers into obedience. As John Galt says in his 60-page swan song: “Faith in the supernatural begins as Faith in the superiority of others.” And to Ayn Rand, no person worth their salt would ever rely on another person for help.
I admire Rand’s passionate dedication to self reliance. I was inspired by the characters who worked so hard to grow their businesses. I loathed the government characters she has created, as they very much mirror today’s self-serving, spineless, mooching politicians (on both sides of the aisle) who only wish to hear themselves congratulate each other for their noble redistribution of other people’s wealth. Trust me, I would never advocate for the government to take even one more cent of my money in taxes.
However, I stop at the book’s approach to charity (or lack thereof). In Rand’s world, no one should ever be the recipient of charity. I disagree! If you’ve been blessed, than you really have a requirement to help other people – whether it’s financially or just by practicing good old fashioned human kindness and compassion. Unfortunately, because so many people are selfish and don’t practice personal charity and giving, the government has stepped in to deal with how to provide social services to people with serious needs. The church, in particular, is not exempt from criticism here. Somehow the conservative church in America has given social causes completely over to the government and to the liberals. I think this is a shame. I am encouraged to see my own church and many other evangelical ones finding their sense of social consciousness and practicing charity – even if it doesn’t include a Gospel presentation. (“Forasmuch as you were to the least of these…”).
The problem of the poor is age-old. Jesus even said, “The poor will be with you always.” That said, I think we should try like crazy to help people in need. If we don’t, the government will just keep on taking our money and will do a far worse job of administering the charity!
So…do I recommend this book? I do for a few reasons: One, it is highly relevant right now as the government and this country struggles for solutions to the failures of big business. Even Ayn Rand confesses (through John Galt’s mouth) that the government serves three major purposes: 1) to provide police protection for citizens. 2) to provide a national defense against aggressive and hostile countries; and 3) to provide a court system which can encourage and enforce the rule of contract law. I absolutely agree with this position. You will enjoy this book if you also agree with a minimalist role of government.
Secondly, I recommend this book because it will really challenge your intellectual capacity to defend (or maybe discover) your own world-life view. The Germans have a word for this -- weltanschauung -- which is their cool world for “knowing what it is you believe.” So, what’s your weltanschauung on the proper role of government? Are we better off with it…or without it?
Finally, I think reading a good, long book gets you away from the TV and helps keep you disciplined to use your imagination, do less sitting around and generally increase your knowledge base.
Now, I am sorry to tell you that if you don’t read this book, you will likely have the chance to see a soon-to-be produced major Hollywood film of it. Yes, it’s true, Angelina Jolie has apparently either bought the rights, or, at minimum, agreed to play the lead heroine, Dagny Taggart. It’s hard to believe that this book has never been made into a movie, but then again, at 1,200 pages, the screenwriter(s) has his work cut out for him. I predict, as usual, the movie will never be as good as the book. The film is scheduled to be released in 2011. I can only judge the book: I give it three (3) stars out of five.
THE ENDING:
So, what happens in the end? Well, John Galt is captured by the authorities and, because he is so brilliant, the government asks him to serve as an Economic Dictator to provide some inspiration to the masses that the “prime movers” have decided to come back out of seclusion. Of course, Galt will never agree to compromise his political/religious convictions, which forces the government officials to torture Galt to get him to “give in.” Meanwhile, the Taggart Transcontinental railroad goes belly-up. (There are no more copper mines, no more steel mills, and no more industry, and consequently, no more reasons to need a railroad; in fact, the book’s final pages usher in the return of the covered horse and buggy just to underscore how backwards society will be if government stays in charge. ) Dagny Taggart and John Galt have had an emotional love affair throughout the book, and the book ends with the three main characters – Dagny Taggart, the steel-magnate Hank Reardon, and the copper miner Francisco D’Anconia – rescuing John Galt out of captivity (with the ease of something out of Hogan’s Heroes), and returning to their mountain retreat. Most of America now resembles downtown Detroit, and the country is in complete disarray.
As the book closes, Taggart and Galt survey the landscape from their mountaintop perch (some months later), and Galt exclaims: “The road is cleared, we are going back to the world.”
FYI: There was never a sequel.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
It's 3am in Israel and I Can't Sleep...
We’re having an amazing time in Israel. I cannot believe how many items we have already crammed in to the two full days we have spent here. The only downside to our trip thus far is that Israel is seven hours ahead of the Eastern Time Zone and I am really having a hard time adjusting. It is currently 2:11am as I write this entry from the beautiful lobby of the Gai Beach Resort in Tiberius. Each night since we arrived I have awoke between 2 and 3am, only to toss and turn for 2-3 hours. So, this morning I have opted to blog a bit.
Just 50 yards from my windows is the Sea of Galilee, which is the site of so many wonderful moments in the Bible. This is the region of Galilee, not far from Nazareth and the largest body of water in the northern Israel region. It is on this very body of water that Jesus called the disciples away from being fishers of local fish to become fishers of men throughout the Mediterranean region and beyond. And, it is most famously where Jesus walked on the water and beckoned Simon Peter towards him. Christians well know the story (Luke 14) of Peter’s brief demonstration of faith in making several steps on the water himself before succumbing to his own disbelief and being rescued by Jesus on to the boat.
So, it was quite a privilege this morning to take a similar boat out on to the Sea of Galilee and imagine that perhaps just one drop of the water that touched Jesus also resided in this body of water. Later in the day, while others were resting before dinner, I snuck away and quietly entered a private beach area and completely immersed myself in the Sea of Galilee. I wanted to say I had done it and yes, I secretly hoped from some secret powers upon coming to the surface. Alas, I DID sunk and was also unable to walk on the water. But it was a thrill to connect with Christ this way.
Later that morning we visited the beautiful Church of The Beatitudes. This church is high upon a hill on the north side of the Sea. It is built on the traditional site where Christ drew away to a mountain top and shared a series of “Blesseds” to those less fortunate of the world. My brother Mark – a pastor who is also on this trip – was able to stand in the foreground of the church and read aloud from Matthew 5. Instead of the word “blessed” he substituted the word “exuberant”, in accordance with a lecture we had heard moments before. Try and read the Matthew 5 passage with that word and it is even more exciting.
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| Church of The Beatitudes |
Let me pause for a moment and confront a regular point of confusion for the average American Christian. The CHURCH of the Beatitudes is a Catholic Church, not a synagogue. One might wonder, while we are here in the land of the Israelites, why so many Catholic churches exist. Israel has a long history of being conquered and occupied. After Christ’s time, the Romans continued to occupy Palestine into the reign of Constantine, aka the Byzantine era. During this time, Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches are very prevalent and still remain today. As well, the Hellenistic and Roman influence throughout the region cannot be overstated. I very much feel as if I am in Europe at this point of the trip, as so many of the ruins very much mirror those I have seen in pictures of Greece and Rome.
For those of you who are curious, from Christ’ time forward, the following occupations have existed, with approximate times thereafter. I think this chart really helps show why there is such diversity of architecture, construction and art in Palestine.
Roman (~300 AD)
Byzantine (~600 AD)
Islamic (~900 AD)
Crusaders (~1100 AD)
Mameluke (~1300 AD)
Ottoman (~1500 AD)
British (~1900 AD)
Israeli (1948 AD)
Later in our day we visited the ruins of Caesarea Philippi in Northern Israel. It was my privilege to read aloud the Matthew 16 account of Peter’s Great Confession. While Catholics and Protestants certainly differ on their interpretation of this passage, reading these words aloud in the same site where they were spoken at least provided some great context to the passage. The site is built on a GIANT rock, some 1200 feet tall, and also includes the Grotto of Pan. Large rocks dot the landscape. So, when Jesus speaks of “this rock”, we at least can all agree that there were plenty of real ones for the disciples to gaze upon when Peter makes his great confession.
There is so much more I could write, but I am thankfully growing weary and want to sleep. Also, I know this blog is kind of sloppy and not very well edited. Forgive me, I am slightly jet lagged! I hope this small blog gives you a fraction of the excitement we are feeling here in the Holy Land. In just five short hours we will sojourn south to the site of Beit-Shean, and then to the Dead Sea, where we will be able to swim before checking into the Dead Sea Hotel. And then, on to Jerusalem for four days!
God’s blessings to you! Talk to you AfterWords.
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| Synagogue at Casearea Philippi. |
Sunday, February 27, 2011
My Top Ten Films of All-Time
It’s Oscar night, so I quickly compiled my list of Top Ten Movies as a way to start a discussion. Forgive the limited write-ups. I am sure you have seen some of them, others probably not. Either way, next time you have a free night, curl up with your Netflix account and try to view some of these all-time classics. Please let me know of a few movies you would add to the list. See you at the movies!
10. JFK (1991) – I know that Oliver Stone’s screenplay was controversial, and that Kevin Costner is wooden and laconic; still, the cinematography is great, and the role played by Joe Pesci is worth seeing all by itself. I don’t believe Stone’s theories, but this is a gripping movie that will hold you through the end.
9. Slumdog Millionaire (2008) – This movie caught me and the country off guard three years ago. It has all the great elements – the likeable star, romance, a seemingly unwinnable plot that manages to not become unraveled in the end, and beautiful music and scenery from India.
8. Annie Hall (1977) – I’m a huge Woody Allen fan, and it all starts with Annie Hall. Quirky, clever and fun to watch, this Allen piece also features the classic scene where Allen argues about rhetoric with Marshall McLuhan in the theater line. A cameo by Christopher Walken is the icing on the cake.
7. Saving Private Ryan (1998) – One of two great movies produced in 1998, Tom Hanks stars as the WW II captain asked to save young, Private Ryan (Matt Damon) after all of three of his brothers were killed in action. The Normandy scenes are like a Life magazine photo shoot, and Hanks is excellent as the cerebral soldier leading his men on an incredible mission of mercy.
6. A Simple Plan (1998) – Billy Bob Thornton and Bill Paxton answer the question of what happens when a downed airplane, filled with drug money, crashes in the remote upper Midwest, and is discovered by a pair of lower to middle class white guys. A great morality tale with a surprise ending.
5. Amadeus (1984) – F. Murray Abraham stars as Antonio Salieri, a talented composer and musician who has the only misfortune to be born as a contemporary of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Abraham won Best Actor for his portrayal of a religious man who was driven to insanity – mostly by jealousy – and who openly questions why God would gift an unregenerate like Mozart.
4. Gandhi (1982) – I regret that I did not see this movie until 2008, when I finally got it on Netflix and watched all three hours in one sitting. I recall as a high schooler hearing about Ben Kingsley’s performance as the peaceful Indian leader, Gandhi. His acting is one for the ages, and this is an important story about a very influential man in the 20th century.
3. The Manchurian Candidate (1962) – An all-time classic with Frank Sinatra. The basic plot revolves around soldiers in the Korean War who were kidnapped and brainwashed to believe propaganda and to unleash crimes against their own government years after returning home. Bennett Marco (Sinatra) must fight his belief that Sergeant Raymond Shaw is the “kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life.” You’ll never see the Queen of Hearts the same way after seeing this movie. Don’t bother with the remake starring Denzel Washington…this is twice the movie.
2. The End of the Affair (1999) – Based on Graham Green’s novel of the same name, Ralph Fiennes is a writer who falls in love with a married woman; she also falls in love with him, but after a near-fatal accident, she prays for his recovery, and when God answers her prayer, she is forced to confess her sin and leave her newfound love. Set in WW II Britain, it is an amazing story of true love and true grace.
1. Apocalypse Now (1979) –This movie remains tops on my list for a variety of reasons; it was the first Rated R movie I ever saw (I snuck out with a friend in high school), and it was also one of the early movies which showed war for what it was without seeking to glorify it. Martin Sheen is fabulous as the captain of a U-boat heading into the heart of the Viet-cong jungle to muzzle a renegade American colonel who has gone rogue (Marlon Brando). All-time great cameo appearances by Robert Duvall (“I love the smell of Napalm in the morning; it smells like victory”) and Dennis Hopper (“Did you know the middle two words of life are if?”) make this a classic. A violent ending and an eerie soundtrack (with Jim Morrison) make this an uncomfortable but moving piece of cinema. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola on a budget that crept north of $15 million, which was unheard of 1979.
I have a list of 5-8 foreign films (mostly German) that I can also recommended. Let me know if you’re interested. Talk to you After Words!
Friday, February 18, 2011
CONFESSION IS THE ROAD TO HEALING…
What do you do when a ghost from your past contacts you on Facebook?
(Note: The subject of this story granted me permission to publish this blog. His name and background will be strictly protected, upon his request. Please help me in protecting his anonymity if you have knowledge of his situation).
Have you ever had a moment of reflection, say 10 or 20 years removed from your youth, where you cringed when you thought of something you said or did to another person? Have you ever wished you could go back in time and take back some of those heartless moments? Or, better yet, meet that individual face to face today and apologize in person?
I answer in the affirmative to all of these questions.
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| Scene from The Breakfast Club |
We all know that high school can be cruel. If you’ve ever seen the classic movie The Breakfast Club, I’m sure you can identify with the fact that high school is an odd mixture of freaks, geeks, jocks, socialites and wallflowers. Our ability to figure out which group we fit into is just one of the challenges. Another is getting along with all the people in the other group.
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| My 25-year HS Reunion |
Over the years my conscience has been pricked with some things I had said and done to a few classmates in high school. There was one guy in particular that I felt I had been especially unkind to. As I was preparing for my 25th high school reunion a few years back, I diligently searched for this guy thinking I might see him at the reunion. I wanted to right that wrong. But that classmate didn’t show, and I was unsuccessful. I promised myself if I ever had the chance to make amends in some other way, I would.
So imagine my surprise a few months ago when this old classmate hit me with a friend request on Facebook. My bluff was called. I imagined he might want to “friend me” just to dress me down. With trepidation, I accepted the request and then waited a day or two for the other shoe to fall.
But no such event transpired. Resolved with both great conviction and anxiety, I mustered up the courage to drop this friend a note in his inbox. I told him that I had often thought of some things I had said and done to him, and that I was embarrassed and truly sorry for my behavior. I apologized and asked for his forgiveness.
The first lesson I learned was this: Confession is the road to healing! I cannot tell you how much better I felt after shedding this burden which had haunted me for years. And the second lesson was this: Forgiveness is the Promised Land! Imagine my great relief when this friend accepted my apology, and actually said he had no recollection of my actions. In fact, he had a rather positive opinion of me.
What has ensued since then is worth blogging about. This classmate has become my friend.
We have twice met for lunch and have explored the different paths our lives have taken. To put it bluntly, my friend has had a tough life. He experienced the confusion of a broken home as a kid. His home life led to some insecurity. These insecurities led him to make some bad decisions as a very young man that resulted in incarceration and a criminal record. That background has trailed him throughout his life and resulted in a series of setbacks. Being a convicted felon is an albatross around his neck that never leaves.
As he explained to me, he is a changed person. He admits the indiscretions of this youth, and has paid his debt to society. But without the forgiveness of our legal system, my friend is caught in a familiar Catch 22. He needs a job and wants to work. But that little box he must check on every job application about being a convicted felon haunts him. It haunts him like my actions against him haunted me.
Fortunately, my friend forgave me. But society hasn’t been as kind to him.
It’s strange how these situations take on a whole new meaning when the people involved have a familiar face and name. And when they become your friend it is more complex. I have probably read dozens of stories in my life about convicted felons who just want another chance. And I have secretly, arrogantly, wrongly judged them in my heart. “You made your bed, now lie in it,” I would think.
How wrong I have been.
Listening to my friend speak at lunch the other day I felt helpless. What could I do? I didn’t have a job for him. I couldn’t wipe his record clean. Finally, in desperation, I simply asked him. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Perhaps I was hoping he would ask me for money – the quick and dirty way to salve a conscience. Instead, my old classmate just looked me square in the eye.
“Kevin, just be my friend. Have lunch with me every now and then. That would be a great help.”
The simplicity of his answer floored me. I drove away that day realizing that sometimes the solutions to life’s most complex problems have the simplest answers.
I am writing this blog to encourage you to mend fences. Stick your neck out. Say you’re sorry. Accept apologies graciously. If you have a person in your past that you have wronged, seek them out and bury that hatchet. If you have been wronged, accept the sincere apology of a ghost from your past. And thank God that we can experience Grace, Mercy and Forgiveness in Christ.
Confession is the road to healing. But forgiveness is the Promised Land.
Talk to you AfterWords…
(If you're angered, encouraged or moved in some direction by my blog, please leave a comment below or on my Facebook page. Feedback fuels my writing. Thanks. KS)
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| Chris Rice |
While writing this blog, I couldn’t help but recall a song from one of my favorite artists – Chris Rice. It’s called The Face of Christ. Read the lyrics below and try to live them out:
THE FACE OF CHRIST (Chris Rice)
He shares a room outside with a dozen other guysAnd the only roof he knows is that sometimes starry sky
A tattered sleeping bag on a concrete slab is his bed
And it’s too cold to talk tonight
So I just sit with him instead and think
How did I find myself in a better place?
I can’t look down on the frown on the other guy’s face
‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
With the face of Christ
After sixteen years in a cold, gray prison yard
Somehow his heart is soft, but keeping simple faith is hard
He lays his Bible open on the table next to me
And as I hear his humble prayer
I feel his longing to be free someday
How did I find myself in a better place?
I can’t look down on the frown on the other guy’s face
‘Cause when I stoop down low, look him square in the eye
I get a funny feeling, I just might be dealing
With the face of Christ
See you had no choice which day you would be born
Or the color of your skin, or what planet you’d be on
Would your mind be strong, would your eyes be blue or brown?
Whether daddy would be rich, or if momma stuck around at all?
So if you find yourself in a better place
You can’t look down on the frown on the other guy’s face
You gotta stoop down low, look him square in the eye
And get a funny feeling, ‘cause you might be dealing ...With the face of Christ
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I WAS BORN IN A SMALL TOWN…
There’s a great song by Van Morrison called “Hyndford Street”, and in this song Morrison gives in to the self-indulgent wanting of nostalgia from his childhood in Ireland. “Take me back,” Morrison croons, “take me way, way, way, way back to Hyndford Street, where you could hear the silence at half past 11 on long summer nights.”
For me, it’s the long, hard winter of 2011 that has taken me back. There’s more time in the evenings for contemplation and recollection, and there’s something about the dead of winter that makes me think back to my childhood. If you’re reading this blog and you grew up with me in Cass City, I think you’ll be impacted by some of the fond memories I am about to recall, none of which involved, computers, smart phones or chain department stores.
KRITZMAN’S DEPARTMENT STORE & OLD WOOD DRUG – In Cass City, there was not a single chain or franchise store (other than a Ben Franklin five and dime). When my Mom identified a clothing need for me or my two brothers, she drove us four miles to see Bill Kritzman at Kritzman’s Department Store on Main Street. Either Pat Wells (a lady from our church) or Bill Kritzman himself would show us pants, help us try on shirts, and especially fit us into shoes. My feet still hurt today to think of Bill Kritzman shoving my feet into a size 8 hush puppy, pulling the laces tight enough to cut off my circulation, all the while smiling hugely and asking my mom about life on the farm “out in the country.” We almost never bought clothes anywhere but Kritzman’s, because they were local and our friends worked there. When we needed medicine or greeting cards, we did not have a Walgreens or a Rite Aid. We had the Coach Light Pharmacy and – right next door – The Old Wood Drugstore. I am still not sure today how Cass City supported TWO drugstores, side by side. But it did.
WE WERE SPANKED IN SCHOOL – My elementary principal was Jackie Freiburger, and today she would have passed for a WWF sidekick. She easily went 250 lbs, and she roamed the halls (with little space left for us second graders) seeking whom she may devour. I was scared to death of her and several times was called in to her office, turned over her knee, and briskly spanked on my bottom by her pudgy paws. When I graduated to Junior High, the raspy-voiced Mr. Stickle was my principal. Anyone back then who was slightly problematic was introduced to Mr. Stickle’s wooden paddle. Crafted with great care in an Industrial Arts class, Stickle’s “Swat Machine” was approximately 20 inches long, four inches wide, and had small holes drilled into it for maximum pain administration. More than once Mr. Stickle invited me into his office – all the while dragging on an unfiltered Camel cigarette. He would give me his best Good Cop-Bad Cop questioning, find me guilty and then instruct me to bend over, where he would forthwith unleash four to five violent swats. I’m not gonna lie – it hurt. And you remembered the pain for several hours, until you and your buddies laughed about it after school and compared your swats like a badge of honor.
RIDING THE SCHOOL BUS – If you grew up in the country like me, riding the school bus was not just an option, it was your only way to school. Riding the bus was like getting on a carnival ride every day, complete with knife throwing contests, bearded ladies (the driver) and loud rock music. I saw my first naked woman on a school bus (Steve Peters brought Playboy from home). I was first punched out on the school bus (Derek Harmon beat on me for days). My most famous moment came when Rob Hartwick and I cut off the hair of the girl in front of us and were expelled from the bus for three days (sorry to Kaylene Brown, if you’re out there, I really am sorry). My parent’s decided to leave me to my own vices, and I rode my bike four miles one way to school, early in the morning, as restitution. Can anyone imagine making their kids do this today? Of course not, but it was completely safe and reasonable in 1978.
MEMORIAL DAY PARADE – When I was between the ages of five to 12, The Cass City Memorial Day Parade was still a day that culminated in honoring veterans. If you grew up with me in Cass City, do you remember: 1) decorating your bike spokes with red, white and blue streamers, or making “click-clacks” by inserting baseball cards into the spokes? 2) Hundreds of us queuing up with our bikes at Croft Clara Lumber on the west end of town? 3) Slowly following behind the War Veterans as they were saluted by hundreds of people on Main Street who cheered them for their valor? 4) Riding all the way to the cemetery on the east end of town, where a 21-gun salute was followed by a prayer for the fallen soldiers? 5) And then, the greatest payoff of all? The veterans broke open about a dozen coolers where anyone who rode their bike received – wait for it – a free can of Faygo pop. Red Pop, Cream Soda, Rockin Rye, etc. It was one of the few times in a year I would get my own can of pop, and it was a highlight of my young life. No lie.
BIG CATHOLIC FAMILIES – We grew up in a town somewhat divided along denominational lines. I was regularly scorned for being a “Baptist”, mostly because my family and others in our local church held to the tenants of Biblical separation, which precluded us from attending movies, going to dances and partaking in alcohol of any type. Not so for my Catholic friends who attended St. Pancratius Catholic Church. I first learned what catechism was from them, and I also learned that – even though my Mom and Dad did not drink alcohol – the priests in the Catholic Church did! Also, Catholic weddings were legend in the Thumb area, with most of the receptions being held at a Polish club (Dom Palski Hall) or Bowling Alley (Charmont), and hundreds of gallons of beer being consumed. I still remember being amazed at stories on a Monday morning after a big Catholic wedding weekend. My friends from 7th grade on up were regularly sneaking booze and getting plowed. Also, I remember several Catholic families who had over ten children, one over 15. If you’re last name was Rabideau or Langenburg, I think you know what I am talking about.
OUR SUMMER JOBS – Growing up in Cass City, one would not find great opportunities for employment. There were a few choice jobs available -- working at the Koo-Koo Cow, Quaker Maid, Pizza Villa, or Charmont were considered decent gigs. Less likely and less available was a summer job at Walbro Corporation (the lone manufacturing plant in Cass City which employed most of the town). However, summer jobs at Walbro were basically reserved for the children of the executives who worked there, and my Dad was no such executive. What my Dad WAS was a guy who owned a farm, and that meant no end of jobs from him and from neighboring farm families. For several years we raised two acres of sweet corn and sold thousands of ears of corn on the side of M-53 to folks fleeing Detroit and heading to the Lake. We also picked rocks, de-tasseled corn, milked cows, and perhaps most famously – hoed beans. Hoeing beans was best done in groups of 4-6 people. The task was simple: Begin at 7am in a 50 acre soybean field that measured a half a mile in length. Walk one way, watching the two rows to your left, and the two rows to your right, and eradicate corn tassels or milkweed plants from last year’s crop. Repeat this ALL DAY until about 3pm. You would pack a lunch and a thermos, and you would hoe shirtless (with no suntan lotion) for eight hours, passing the time laughing about all the dumb things your friends had done the night before.
(TEACHABLE MOMENT: The above scenario is the root of the phrase “a tough row to hoe.” You would know this if you ever hoed beans for a summer)
I’ve only scratched the surface of my remembrances. I didn’t talk about going sucker spearing, about skipping school during the first day of pheasant hunting season with my friends, about the Winter of 1978 when we missed ten straight days of school due to three feet of snow, or about the night Marsha Goslin died in 7th grade. There’s also stories of fast pitch softball, playing high school football, hating on Caro, going to Caseville, listening to Bob Seger Live Bullet on LP vinyl, cruising town for hours with Jeff Loomis, and swimming in the gravel pit on Ritter Road (before several fatalities forced its closures).
All in all, it was a rich existence, and I am not afraid to admit I long for those days and for the feelings they gave me. Yes, I know it means I am growing old. Nostalgia can be both a good thing and a bad thing, but I am here to tell you those were the finest, most carefree days of my life and I just hope a few of you read this and tell me you feel the same.
Talk to you AfterWords…
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