MONTEREY POP 1967 -- UNFINISHED LIVES

I didn’t attend Monterey Pop in June of 1967, but I lived so close by that had it been held in, say, 1963, I could have heard it just down the road about a mile away out of my bedroom window.  My wife--who I also didn’t “attend” because I didn’t then yet know her—did get in and attend as part of the crowd with dubious credentials as a ‘reporter.’

Monterey Pop, which preceded Woodstock by two years, presaged a domino effect on the music and lives of an entire, and what would become iconic, generation (my generation). It was a beginning—and   who would have known it then—ultimately an anthem to a large portion of a whole generation of music fans but also to other cataclysmic transitional cultural and social movements— the Civil Rights, militant Women’s Rights, and hippie movements.

At the time, I looked forward to knowing that the venue of Monterey Pop was coming to my community only because I knew and liked the laconic, by comparison, music of The Mamas and the Papas and Simon and Garfunkle, and saw on the posters that they would be singing. Frankly, I had never until then heard of the performers who later made this seminal event so iconic: Otis Redding, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendricks, The Byrds, Jefferson Airplane and many others.  But whether initiated or not, I suspect that few, if any, of us could anticipate what would  happen in the next decade.

 ‘Unfinished Lives’

 

The performance of Otis Redding, the final act of the Saturday night portion of the Festival (indeed, maybe the whole festival) was, and I think could be fairly said to be, the ‘tipping point,’ or jumping off point for an entire cultural era which transformed music and cultural mores. It at least introduced a style of music and pop culture dubbed—‘sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll’—of which I was only vaguely, and thankfully, not very familiar.

Otis Redding’s style and his voice in some of his songs painted a sound of increasing, leading to an even brutal, intensity and finally a  confrontation or conflagration leading to burnout.  His treatment of his concluding song Try a Little Tenderness seemed to be a harbinger of what happened to him as well as to a generation of followers—beginning with Monterey Pop and continuing with Woodstock and beyond.

Redding’s five song set: I’ve Been Loving You Too Long; Satisfaction; Try a Little Tenderness that Saturday night included, after a warmup, his song Respect, which he had written a couple of years before.  At the conclusion of Respect he said to the people below the stage, “You are the love generation, right?” The thousands packing the fairgrounds arena vociferously agreed.  It gave all who heard a more-or-less hazily focused identity which they lived out for the next decade.  (Respect was also recorded exactly three months earlier in 1967 by Aretha Franklin and rose to the top of the charts by June when Monterey Pop occurred).

Following the festival at the Monterey County Fair Grounds Redding felt he needed voice surgery which he had planned to have later that summer.

He barely lived to have it done.

Ironically, Otis Redding’s most popular song, Sittin on the Dock of the [San Francisco] Bay, (written by him following Monterey Pop while Redding was still in California and recorded only two days before his death by airplane crash at age 26) was released posthumously a couple of months later.

Dock of the Bay portended the temporal end for many of my generation (remember Viet Nam ) as well as for a number of other stars in that event. Within two years Jimi Hendricks and Janis Joplin were also dead.

Because of the Vietnam war, the cultural revolution of the so-called ‘Dawning of the Age of Aquarius,’ and the liberality and suggestibility through music of the ‘new morality,’ many of my contemporaries—not just musicians—continued to have ‘unfinished lives’ or didn’t even make it past the mid- 60’s to mid-70’s decade at all.  Sadly they went out with either ‘bang or a whimper’ or neither and are still to be seen around as the hapless and homeless people on the streets of America (see poet T. S. Eliot, The Hollow Men, 1925).

Alas for the most colorful—and maybe tragic—decade of my lifetime.

But for me, praise the Lord, it wasn’t like that.   

NATIONAL PEACE OFFICER'S MEMORIAL DAY / WEEK

POLICE WEEK

In 1962 National Police Week was established by a joint resolution of Congress.  And May 15 was designated as National Peace Officers Memorial day.  Both were dedicated to honoring America’s law enforcement community.  I wish to dedicate this essay to honor a true ‘officer of the peace.’

I write this memorial today in honor of a dear friend of mine—a policeman—a good man—a family man,  who died a little over a week ago.  He was not one of the over 20,000 law enforcement officers who have died in the line-of-duty since records have been kept in this country, but he like many other officers came close.  He died of the effects of a dread neurological disease that after early service with the Palo Alto Police Department in California and then 5 ½ years with the California Highway Patrol claimed first his coordination then his life.   He was forced to retire because of the onset of this disability.  But for the best part of his life he put his life on the line many times as a law enforcement officer a protector of the peace for the rest of us.

 

Let me tell you a little about my friend, Officer Harold Bartlett, California Highway Patrol officer, badge # 4538.

Harold was an all-American boy who grew up on the central coast and San Joaquin valley of California.  Active in sports and music and with many part-time jobs during his youth,  following high school he married his sweetheart and at age 22 applied for a job with the Palo Alto Police Department.  From a pool of 256 applicants he was one of two chosen.  Initially he walked evening foot-beats, and then bicycle beats after mid-night, and later regular motorcycle assignments.  After 6 months of service he was assigned a car beat.  Among many interesting encounters with law- breakers he had several in which his own life was put in jeopardy.

Because the pay from the P.A.P.D. was so poor and his young wife pregnant and bills piling up Harold found a part-time job at the Emporium department store during the 31 days of Christmas season as a Santa Claus.  He worked there from 9:30 a.m. to 10:00 p.m., then the graveyard shift at the police department from 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m.  “I got pretty skinny and was tired all the time, but when [his first daughter] was born all the doctor and hospital bills were paid.” Almost all other officers of the department held second jobs as well.

Now here is what I really want you to know about this man.  Harold left the P.A.P.D. because of the repeated actions of a couple of officers—including at least one high in authority who did not display the integrity that should be expected of one in such a profession.  After one particularly egregious situation Harold wrote in his memoirs, “That incident plus several others started me thinking I wanted to complete my police career with a more honorable organization.  It also pointed out the need to make and keep copies in my personal file at home of all memos, all reports of a controversial nature, to record all the pertinent facts and dates and information that might be needed in your defense later.  This is what happens when you lose confidence and respect for the honor and integrity of those in authority over you from the Mayor and Chief on down.”

After about four years with the Palo Alto Police Department Harold made at least two very important decisions and life-style changes that would color the rest of his life.  He and his wife joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and he made application to the California Highway Patrol to which he was accepted.

He had heard of and personally observed the competency and high standards expected of officers representing the California Highway Patrol and wanted to be a part of it.  “The [C.H.P.] Academy reportedly was the finest in the world.  We got people from police agencies from all over the world who went thru our training shoulder to shoulder with us and then after graduation would return to their own country to accept a ranking police post.”  “Your badge and I.D. number on the badge meant a lot of pride, honor, integrity and self-discipline to you.  That number was only issued once and you took a lot of personal pride in wanting it to shine, and stand for something honorable, righteous, and good.”

As he told his stories of police action in the two departments you came to know that the majority of officers, like him, took their work very seriously and were honorable in a dangerous profession.  A few, however didn’t and brought disgrace and dishonor by association to their colleagues.  Though he had been beat up a few times and had his teeth knocked out by an assailant, this good man would have continued as a stellar representative of a noble profession.  Others believed so also.  In his last year at the C.H.P. Harold Bartlett was named Officer of the Year out of the Modesto, California office.

As a last word, the daily verbal abuses, excuses, and disrespect, not to mention the physical danger and public scrutiny to which a peace officer is subjected take a toll on the men and women in ‘blue’ who do their best to protect and preserve the rest of us.  Let’s cut them a little slack in the daily tension they absorb for us.  

STANDING FOR SOMETHING

A great man  named Gordon B. Hinckley wrote a book not long before he died titled Standing for Something.  I like that title.  A related notion, though I’ve never seen a book with this title, could be Amounting to Something.  I remember, as a kid, hearing my dad say something like, ‘if he would apply himself he could amount to something,’ and ‘he’ll never amount to anything.’  If so, how?  If not, why not?

I have though a lot about standing for something and amounting to something.  A good and continuing education can help with both. 

To become educated, we must surrender ignorance.  To move forward we often undertake a course of study and yield to teachers who are probably wiser and certainly better educated than we are.  When we pay money to go to school we usually don’t balk over the process.  When we go to a physician to get healed we usually submit to the treatment. Yet when we are encouraged to voluntarily engage in practices that could help us in our quest to ‘amount to something’ we often do not fully engage ourselves or invest ourselves or discipline ourselves to ‘go the course’ or take the medicine.  We may get distracted from our goal, or resent the expectations of our guide or mentor or maybe just get lazy. Or we stubbornly go on our own way thinking we know better.   But we don’t improve.  Self-improvement, for many, is difficult to obtain or to sustain.

 

Let me suggest that if you want to ‘amount to something’ more than you currently are, you don’t continue to go it alone.  Make a contract with another person that will make you accountable and then resolve to ‘endure the process to the end.’  Check in periodically for ‘progress reports.’  Engage another person in the pursuit of your quest.  Don’t be afraid of correction along the way.  Even the best of athletes, musicians, performers and presidents have coaches, mentors, and advisors to help them.

 

A final thought:  ‘Standing for something’ is probably a better test of integrity than ‘amounting to something’ because of the value placed upon it by our ultimate Judge. That is what really amounts to something.

The Hippocratic Oath

Like many non-physicians I was vaguely aware of the oath purportedly taken by the medical profession and the oft-stated principle at the heart of the oath commonly  expressed as ‘Do no harm.’

I have wondered about that for a long time in light of the continuing abomination of abortions (nearly 58 million estimated in the nearly 50 years since Roe v. Wade) performed by the ‘profession,’ and the looming potential involvement of the ‘profession’ in euthanasia of the elderly.

Here is the Hippocratic Oath edited slightly by me only by removing, by insertion of ellipsis, irrelevant material and maintaining by exact quotation the rest and substance of the ‘profession’:

            “I swear . . . that, according to my ability and judgment, I will keep this oath and stipulation . . . . 

            I will follow that method of treatment which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous.  I will give no deadly medicine to anyone if asked, nor suggest any such counsel.  Furthermore, I will not give to a woman an instrument to produce an abortion. 

            With Purity and with Holiness I will pass my life and practice my art. / Into  whatever houses I enter I will go into them for the benefit of the sick and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and further from the seduction of females or males, bond or free.           

            Whatever, in connection with my professional practice, or not in connection with it, I may see or hear in the lives of men which ought not to be spoken abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret.

            While I continue to keep this oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art, respected by all men, at all times, but should I trespass and violate this oath, may the reverse be my lot.”

The original oath, penned about 2,500 years ago, as quoted above, I have learned is not sworn to, nor ever was, by the vast majority of the medical profession. Neither is it even approximated by many physicians; it has long been superannuated and doctors are not bound by it. 

There are, however, politically correct and legally careful—yet probably  non-binding—ceremonial oaths taken in this country by graduates of most medical schools.

I’m sure most physicians would still like to be “respected by all men, at all times,” but what about the larger issue, respect for LIFE, which I always assumed was the medical profession’s obligation to protect, promote, and preserve which many religious people, such as me, consider to be the highest value?

Ask your physician about it—but, of course, you will probably be ‘billed’ for his/her answer.  

"BUT DO YOU LOVE ME?"

Fiddler on the Roof was a highly successful 1964 Broadway production and in 1971 came out as a very popular award-winning musical-comedy drama film.  I thought it was a great film.  My title comes from a song in the play sung by Tevye, the Jewish milkman husband of Golde and the father of five girls who lived in a poor farming village of Ukraine at the beginning of the last century. 

Tevye sings this song as he considers his 25 year marriage to his arranged-marriage wife, and asks her the question, “Do you love me?”  As Jewish cultural traditions are being challenged and turned upside-down by events in society, his three oldest daughters are influenced and wish to marry for love, not having their marriages arranged by a matchmaker.  So too does the staunch traditionalist Tevye also begin to think about love as a legitimate reason for and component of marriage.

I have read and reread an excellent book by C. S. Lewis titled The Four Loves.  In it he treats affection (storge), friendship (philia), eros (the natural love of a man for a woman and vice versa), and Charity (divine love).  They are all of a piece and they all have a progression.  It has greatly helped me to understand the nature of love—how the three “natural loves,” affection, friendship, and eros or what we call ‘being in love’ can and ultimately must be subsumed and magnified if done right into the human version of Charity or Divine Love.  Our three “need loves,” as Lewis calls them, can be transformed into “gift love,” the kind of love God has for us; there is a higher love.

To develop it, there is an art to love.  There is also a law of love.  That is to say, there are attitudes, appreciations, expectations, and expressions or behaviors that show this most powerful of all human emotions in its finest light and which can ultimately refine a person to his or her highest potential.   But know, also, that love, or a deprivation of it, can bring any person to the greatest extremes of joy or down to the depths of despair.

How is it done?  As Jesus says, “As I have loved you, love one another.” It is done by looking outward and upward, not inward.  As we better understand the nature, requirements, cautions, duties, and rewards and conditions of love we can better live a life blessed by giving and receiving love—which, I submit, is more important to a rich and happy life than anything I can imagine.  But there is an order to it: a mature love gives first, and then finds, happily, that he receives.

Yes, Tevye’s marriage relationship with Golde has been functional and utilitarian—she has cared for him by cooking his meals, washing his clothes, keeping his house, and raising his children.  And he has faithfully provided for her and their children the necessities of life as well as protection and security.  But it has become prosaic. And he knows inside himself that he wishes and senses it could be more—her for him and him for her. Like all people, Tevye needs the reassurance and comfort that a happy acknowledgement brings. ‘Need love’ in humans never goes away—at least not until it is transformed.  In the meantime, it needs to be fed.

We know there is a geniality to love—a mutual gratification and happiness at being in each other’s presence that the sharing of common values provides. But it comes not by “seeking our own;” it comes by giving—“as I have loved you.” Love is the provision for the other the knowledge that they matter and that they are the provider (at least as far as another person can provide) for you as well.  Love goes both ways.

The question is not to our earthly love, “Do you love me?”, but “Do I love you?”—meaning, do I love God first--the way He loves?, and then, if I do, I will love you even more, and you will know of my love.

  

Indeed, we shall find, if we continue in faith and in hope that love for one another is our "work and our glory"—not just God’s.  And it will be enough, for Charity—Divine Love, "never faileth" to do its mighty work and to satisfy. 

THE POWER OF ONE'S NEED

The older I get the more I learn about the power of ‘need’ in the dynamics of human relationships.  I have not learned this through reading books, at least not on superficial or first readings (although maybe by assimilation over the years by acquaintance with good literature) but mostly I have learned it by observation or involvement with other peoples' needs. 

 

I had long observed that the perceived ‘need’ of the most powerful person in a relationship gets the attention.  Or, it was the squeakiest wheel, so to speak, that got the grease.  In more recent years, however, I have found that the most ‘powerful’ person is not always the healthiest, or oldest, or wisest person of the relationship.  Indeed, it can likely be a baby in a family or the sickest or loudest or most emotionally demanding person who drives the responses, resources, time, or attention of the primary caregiver or need-fulfiller.  I have also learned that primary caregivers usually get their role by default—or proximity.

In earlier, or less ‘enlightened’ times or cultures the most powerful person, and therefore the one whose needs were considered paramount—and thus met—was assumed to have at least one, and probably several of the following qualities: maleness, physical size, physical strength, wealth, other visible or bestowed resources.  If others didn’t recognize those ‘qualities’ – well, too bad: they had to bow to them anyway.  The ‘boss’ was the boss, no matter how he got that way. 

In the long run, though, it was more often than not in a compassionate relationship that the truly neediest person became the receiver.  Some people –infants, the very ill, the least able to survive unassisted—rightly became the focus of the best efforts of the closest related person who had and was willing to share his /her assets—augmented by professional help if it could be afforded. 

And so the role shifts.  We will all find ourselves at some time the best able to provide the help—and at other times the least able.  Every person in an intensive care unit at a hospital or in an ‘assisted care’ facility who still has even a modicum of cognitive ability left will tell you that.   If their need goes beyond that and they can no longer express it and if you have the courage to visit and really observe such a place, you will soon find it out for yourself.  And then, depending on the nobility of your character you may feel prompted to step up and attempt to fulfill the need.

    As my mother used to say, before she could no longer say it, “Getting old is not for sissies.” That is not just a cliché.  It often takes a long time for a young person to recognize that. 

What then is needed?  That which is always needed at every juncture of a person’s life—Charity, ‘the pure love of Christ.’ It really is the only way to responsibly meet the greatest, and for almost all, the last great challenge of life.

And if you are the grateful receiver, then just smile—if you still can. 

HANGING ON

I assume we’ve all seen the poster or picture of a frightened little kitten hanging on to a rope for dear life.  By common sense and past experience we know that a kitten or a person can’t hang on forever.  He has to make a decision or the decision will be made for him.  Fatigue or entropy will eventually win if he just decides to try to hang on without moving.  How many try to do that in the challenges of their lives?  It can’t be done for long.  One must move on or he will fall backward or off his rope.

I wish to speak today about not only holding on or letting go, but a third alternative—climbing upward.

A couple of Biblical scriptures come to mind:  The Old Testament prophet Elijah was not one to try to hang on to the status quo; he constantly enjoined people to move upward:  “How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God (of which fact Elijah had no doubt), follow him: but if Baal, then follow him.  And the people answered him not a word.”  The rest of the chapter records the result of the peoples’ equivocation and a prophet’s actions  (see 1 Kings 18:21).

For Christians, how does Jesus view such equivocation? To some church members in the time of his early apostles’ ministry he first gave commendation, to others encouragement, then to some who were halted in their progress a chastisement.

To illustrate I paraphrase, in light of my metaphor of the cat hanging on,  a passage from Revelation 3: 8, 10, 11, 12, 15-22. God knows what challenges we have and of the degree of our efforts to make it to the top of our rope.  Our “hour of temptation” is the temptation to let go, to quit, to cave in.  But he encourages us to “hold that fast which thou hast” (our rope—our worthy goal) and keep climbing!  There is great reward for those who make it to the top.  For some otherwise good people, though, he is not pleased: “I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot …so then because thou are lukewarm. . . I will spue thee out of my mouth.”  Why? Because of their apathy or fear.  Self-justification, he tells us, will not avail.  Start climbing!  “To him that overcometh” the fatigue and entropy of the daily challenges of life, “will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even as I also overcame, . . . with my Father in his throne.”

Far too many people claim they are just hanging on; and in fact they may be if the only criterion they judge their lives by is their financial status or outlook. But the reality is that they are falling backward in their apathy as they waste the days of their probation spiritually, intellectually, physically or socially. 

There is always something we can do to move toward a higher goal.  And there is always somebody to help us.