My Essays

As the perennial reader may have noticed, when November—the month of Thanksgiving—rolls  around I begin to wax reflective about things for which I am grateful. The contemplation of funerals and the deaths of good people who are ready to move on to the next life, or who have moved on, as macabre as it may appear, fall into that category.  One man who died 50 years ago this month, November 22, 1963, was such a person who exerted a profound influence upon me. 

Scholar, essayist and novelist, Englishman C. S. Lewis was the man.  I have twenty-seven books written by or about him from which I have gained and I peruse regularly. I believe, but feel constrained to repeat it once again—C. S. Lewis was perhaps the most insightful Christian apologist and essayist of the last century.  His ‘mentor,’ and another giant in my pantheon, was Scottish preacher George Macdonald, a man Lewis never met in person,  but whose sermons and essays influenced him as both men did me. (Macdonald did not die in November but both men are of the ‘same cloth’ and so I think of them together.). A third highly influential essayist with whom I typically spend time with in this month of remembrance is the American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson, born in May of 1803, (neither did he die in November). 

These three great men wrote essays and gave addresses that, at least in times past, influenced thousands for good.  I, too, write essays, but acknowledge that many are pale reflections of the insights of these spiritual and intellectual giants.  Nevertheless, I write, hoping that some thought or insight I have had, will influence for good some reader as these men have influenced me.  

So that the reader does not expect too much from a 500 - 700 word  essay or opinion piece, let me explain what I think an essay is and what it is not.  An essay for me is not a dissertation or a treatise.  It is not an article.  It is not an explication or carefully reasoned and supported argument. But it is an introduction or exploration of a theme.  It is an idea, a tone, an attitude, what has been called ‘a spiritual signature.’  It has a flavor or quality or bent of thought that shows up in subsequent essays. It is part of a pattern—a communication of belief that is consistent with an overarching world-view. 

My essays are not poetry, although I have put in a piece or two, but they define my identity.  To use Lewis’s words, “In poetry the words are the body and the ‘theme’ or ‘content’ is the soul.” Literature is an art whose medium is words. For me, the voice of an educated conscience must speak. 

  

I hope the reader can appreciate the expression of these counter-point views, not contemporary or necessarily (or even usually) ‘politically correct but views that I find, upon rereading my own essays, are often an echo of a voice crying in the wilderness or twilight of a collapsing culture. 

Three cheers for the ‘old’ literature.   Thanks for reading this.

Celebration Days

The celebration of national holidays, I think, tells much about the values of a people.  It seems obvious to me as a Christian and a patriot, that certain days such as Easter, Christmas, Independence Day, Thanksgiving Day, and Memorial Day—all traditional American holidays—clearly should continue to be celebrated in this country as we remember the significant contributions of certain noble individuals or groups of people associated with that day or time in history.  There are other days, of course, that commemorate noble or noteworthy individuals or classes of people (e.g., Mother’s Day and Father’s Day; formerly Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays in America but now—overly generous in my opinion—‘President’s Day’) who contributed to our country’s greatness and  stability and security. 

There are also days that vested interests have promoted that are noted as worthy of remembrance by more limited segments of our population. 

But then there are some days, such as Halloween, that seem to have (to borrow a legal phrase) ‘no redeeming social value.’  And it has become, perhaps, our biggest national (non) ‘holiday.’

I bring this to the attention of the reader because I have seen, in my lifetime, a definite shift in emphasis pertaining to certain celebration days.  Halloween, again, has gotten much more emphasis and Easter (truly for Christians a ‘holy day’) has been devalued as America has slid to a much more secular state. Schools no longer have an Easter vacation, but rather a ‘spring break.’  Christmas vacation, likewise, is now ‘winter break.’  And Thanksgiving Day is ‘turkey day’ followed by ‘black Friday,’ to emphasize, I guess, gross materialism. 

For America’s schoolchildren the celebration of the traditional holidays provided a focus for recognizing the lasting significance and historical value of those events/people/times.  Now, by contrast, attention has been refocused on ‘fun’ or ‘escape’ or a legitimizing of a time of ‘letting down,’ usually of morals. 

As a moralist, I encourage parents, teachers, and other responsible adults to hold to the traditional and not cave in to the de-emphasis of things/times/people of real value.  I, for one, do not buy in (literally) to the moral shift and decline of our culture and great American heritage. 

If You Could Turn Back Time

Last Sunday I turned back time, and it was really quite easy.  From March 10 through November 13 this year we were on Daylight Savings Time.  Now we are on standard time through the winter months.  Making the change was painless.  But it is not their clock that concerns people when this thought crosses their mind. 

Pop singer Cher not long ago did a song titled ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’ In the song were the lyrics, “I don't know why I did the things I did; I don't know why I said the things I said.”  Or she could have said, ‘I don’t know why I took the path I chose, for now oh how I regret it.’ Her (our) message was/is, ‘If I could turn back time I would do it.’ The assumption is that we would do it right this time. What a blessing it would be to have a ‘new beginning.’ It is to that observation that this commentary is addressed.

I think everybody could probably say about some stage or decision in their lives, ‘I don't know why I did the things I did; I don't know why I said the things I said,’ such as saying ‘yes’ when I should have said ‘no,’ or saying ‘no when I should have said ‘yes.’ Hindsight is indeed 20-20, but at least hindsight can be a springboard to growth.  In short, many wish they could turn back time in their lives.  Is it possible? Could 'turning back time go by another name? Let’s look at this.

As noted in an earlier weblog commentary, Yogi Berra, that genial American sportsman/folk philosopher,  is reported to have said, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”  I think the implied assumption that could be drawn from this ‘advice’ is that when one sees that they are on the wrong road and a different one presents itself, take the new alternative.  And that is exactly what often must be done.

But what more likely must be done, if you could, is to somehow go clear back to where you left the original path that was taking you in the most promising direction and instead of taking what then looked like an attractive-looking fork in the road or made the decision that got you in trouble, make the decision and take the necessary time, this time, and necessary steps, this time, to hold the course. 

C. S. Lewis, in his inimitable way, used the analogy of going wrong in trying to solve a mathematics problem. You don’t make it right by just trying harder and going on from where you are.  Instead, you have to go back, as far as it takes, to the point at which you made a mistake and then start your calculations again at that point and move forward.

Now the problem is, many people become so habituated in continuing to make the wrong decisions, continuing the one or more behaviors that got them into trouble in the first place (e.g., developing an addiction to some counterproductive life-style habit: food, drugs, behavioral patterns, etc.) that they feel they cannot change.  Or they are persuaded that they are genetically locked in—that they were ‘made that way.’ Or their horizons have become so limited that they cannot see outside of the prison of their own making to a truly productive ‘alternative lifestyle’ (to use a phrase that once was appropriate but that in the present time has become contaminated to rationalize sin). 

I dispute the hopeless attitude.  The negatives of a lifetime can be changed; a new direction can be taken, hope can be restored, but it will take help.  A ‘doctor,’ so to speak, will need to be employed.  On our part it will take humility and submission to change.  A wound can be sewn up, but it must first be cleaned out, and the cleansing must go at least as deep as the wound.  The doctor must be allowed to do his work.   And then it will take time to heal and therapy to restore proper function.  Damage done is damage done, but restoration can also be done.  That’s why, to change metaphors, we have car repair shops.  In fact, a good restoration shop will make the vehicle look, and depending on how far you want to go, perform even better than when it was ‘new.’ Or a house can be renovated. Or a person.  

This all leads to my last metaphorical shift—one which I believe is not a metaphor at all, but the most profound of all realities.  It is that there is a God in Heaven and He has made provision for all of us to make the changes that will need to be made, for we all have need to ‘turn back time’ and that there is, indeed, a Way. The way is to believe in God our Father who loves us and to come unto our Redeemer and Savior, His son, Jesus Christ.  The way is faith in Christ, repentance, and baptism and then, this time, learning and keeping the commandments found in the Holy Scriptures.  That is why all these things were given.    

Now there is hope, but who knows how much time?

Brigham Young University—my alma mater

I graduated from three colleges before attending and graduating from Brigham Young University.  BYU is the school that I, by far, most closely associate myself.  Because of its mission statement and goals—what it stood for—I  selected my course of study, graduate major and minors, and ultimately focused my dissertation on an aspect of its lofty purpose.  

Brigham Young University is a school that has as the basis of its educational goals scholastic success for its students, and their spiritual/religious/moral development, which objective applies also to all who are connected with the school in any way, in any assignment or relationship. For this it was founded, organized, funded, staffed, nurtured, and built into a great growing university. Of course, there is nothing in this objective that vitiates in any way or compromises the university’s high scholastic aim and the effort to achieve it; rather, it serves to define and expand those particular objectives. This school was then, and is now, meant to be a bastion of decency in a coarsening world where there is continual corrosion of moral and spiritual sensibilities. 

A leisurely stroll anywhere on the campus bears this out.  The dress, language and deportment of its students, faculty, and staff is an instantly apparent counterpoint to that of any other college I've ever visited.

BYU retains a commitment to the principle of “in loco parentis,” in the place of a parent. This is today unheard of and would be considered an anachronism in virtually any other university in this land. In an educational climate in which that principle is largely abandoned now, BYU cares, as a true parent should, about the whole lives of those who come to study there—their educational preparation, the nature and quality of their life-style, and the enhancement of their sensitivity and the quality of spirit that relates to the inner world of each individual. BYU cares what kind of people they are and works to help them develop what they can become. And that, after all, is what matters—not slogans, not even high and holy objectives. BYU stands in the place of a parent. 

 I observed that those who serve at BYU  in any capacity—administration, faculty, staff, all others—represent the school in their various positions, and for this reason undertake a solemn trust. The pipe fitter and professor as well as the policeman represent authority, the attendant as well as the administrator, the carpenter and the controller, the gardener and the geologist. Each is under obligation to honestly support in their service and their lives the purpose, the policies, and the standards that are the reason for this university’s existence. 

And then the students: Those who attend BYU are expected to live up to the highest standards of honesty, morality, and decency while in attendance and then, most importantly, for ‘the world is our campus,’ ‘Go Forth to Serve.’  And that means not just to serve oneself, but whomsoever comes within the pale of one’s influence. Because we have been given much we too must give. 

My association with every professor and every staff member whether in administrative offices, library services, gymnasium or campus stores and services as well as every student with whom I had interaction was congruent with the expectations mentioned above.  I was never disappointed.

What a privilege it was to attend this great institution of higher learning.      

Distracted and Deadly

As far as my observation of modern life goes, the ubiquity of smartphone and tablet device usage has gone beyond rudeness and has become downright deadly for the user.  People have become so absorbed in what their devices provide for them that they become oblivious to their immediate surroundings.  The recent deaths of several people in the San Francisco bay area bears this out.

A couple of weeks ago a man got on a muni bus, silently brandished a .45 caliber handgun, put it back into his pocket and took it out several more times (this was caught on a video surveillance camera on the bus) and then with over a dozen fellow passengers within just a few feet of him, who did not notice what was going on, pulled the trigger and shot a man in the back, killing him. 

As bad as this was, the collective inattention to what was going on that might have prevented this, is, for me, at least as troubling. 

A year or so before this incident a 23-year old woman in San Francisco was killed when she stepped into a crosswalk, totally engrossed in her cellphone and was struck by a bus.  She didn’t even look up or see the bus coming and gave the driver no chance to try to avoid hitting her.  This is not an isolated incident. 

Less lethal than these examples, but representative of the problem,  is the increase in crime that involves these devices.  Smartphone and other personal electronic devices have become the number one target for thefts in public places.  San Francisco police chief Greg Suhr says that 2 out of 3 robberies in the city now involve smartphones.  “[These things] make people incredibly vulnerable to crime.  And the inattention, which creates this tremendous vulnerability to people, is just something that’s so easily corrected.” Pickpockets in Europe are having a heyday. 

Even in public places everyone is somewhere else. But it affects those who are nearby who are not, at the time, ‘digitally connected.’ And this is the larger point that I am making today. 

As calloused as it may seem as I write this, I feel more concern for the others nearby—those who have to clean up the mess, those who will not forget what they have witnessed, those whose lives are impacted by the ripple effect of the heedless or careless or inconsiderate people who precipitated the incident(s) in the first place.  

Whether street drag racers of fifty years ago, public place smokers of thirty or forty years ago, gang-bangers, or driving texters or cell phone users today, the result is the same: someone else will probably have to share in paying the price of thoughtless behavior.   And how about the super obese or drug addicts or alcoholics who subject health-services personnel and providers , and families, and the general  public untold problems for the costs of caring for these people?  

  

Well, I think my views on the subject are pretty transparent.  As I used to tell may children when they were young:  ‘Lets not be part of the problem.’