Having Guests
p.32 That boys yo' comp'ny
Diplomacy
p.59 You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...
p.40 Sometimes it's better to bend the law a little in special cases. In your case the law remains rigid.
Fairness
p.41 Are you going to take out your disapproval on his children?
School
p.43 Project...Unit...Group Dynamics...Good Citizenship... but as I inshed sluggishly along the treadmill of the Maycomb County School System... 12 years of unrelieved boredom.
p.45 ...authorities released us early
Romance
p.55 Dill was becoming something of a trial...asked me...to marry him, promptly forgot about it. He staked me out, marked me as his property, said I was the only girl he would ever love, then he neglected me.
Weeds
p. 56 ...nut grass....Second Battle of the Marne
Being Teased
p.58 first person she thought about teasing and the best defense....was a spirited defense.
Friendship
p.59 ...never told on us, never played cat and mouse with us, not interested in our private lives...
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Of Finches and Mockingbirds
The first time I recall reading Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird I was in the back seat of a four-door sedan barrelling down the highway towards Mexico City. I was flanked in the back seat by my two youngest sisters. Let's see, if I was nearly 30 that would have made them nearly 23 and 20. Yes, I remember now. The only way I would have gone to Mexico was if I were in the company of fluent spanish speakers. One sister had recently returned from a health services mission in Argentina. In the front seat were my brother-in-law (who had served a mission in Central America) and my sister (who had served a mission in Spain). We had taken several books with us to read aloud as we traveled. This book was one of them.
I next read the book aloud to my tween and teenage daughters, just a year ago. Our small town library had provided free copies as a Big Read Humanities Grant selection. So, this month's reading was at least my third visit to the book. I kept a yellow highlighter in one hand, applying it liberally. I became completely immersed in Scout's comings and goings. Of course I knew what was going to happen. I anticipated Atticus's courtroom plea for human decencey, integrity, and the rule of law. I knew Tom Robinson would be a casualty to the ignorance, fear, and prejudice of his neighbors.
Neighbors. This story is about neighbors. This story is about neighbors making a difference. Neighbors hurting and neighbors helping. This story dispells the myth of rugged individualism and installs in its place the need for a community wielding faith, hope, and charity.
It is a story about abandonment and salvation.
Abandonment. Scout is motherless. Dill is fatherless. Mayella is motherless. Arthur is fatherless. Nearly all the significant adults in Scout's life are single. Each one is fighting a battle, of sorts. There is Atticus, holding tenaciously to integrity as the chief virtue he would instill in his children. There is Calpurnia, every bit the equal and even the better of the priveledged community in social graces, education, and insight into human character. There is Mrs. Dubose, a victim of the good intentions of medical attention which has addicted her to morphine. These and all the others not singled out here are bound by the expectations of society and using what ammunition they can to break the chains that bind them.
Ammunition. In this quiver are the arrows of determination (Mrs. Dubose), charity (Tom Robinson), cheerfulness (Miss Maudie), discipline (Calpurnia), humility (Atticus), repentance (Walter Clunningham), long suffering (Arthur Radley).
Chains. Links in that awful chain are pride and revenge (Bob Ewell), ignorance, poverty and abuse ( Mayella Ewell), conformity (Aunt Alexandra's guests), shallowness (Miss Caroline).
Atticus encouraged his children to try to see things through other's eyes-- to "walk in their shoes", as it were. Scout found herself wishing, while the jurors were deliberating, that the entire waiting crowd would concentrate on setting Tom Robinson free. Which is exactly why Harper Lee wrote this book. She wrote that Scout heard Jem say that "if enough people--a stadium full, maybe--were to concentrate on one thing, such as setting a tree afire in the woods, that the tree would ignite of its own accord." That, in a nutshell is how change comes about. That is how ideas take hold.
Salvation. Arthur Radley--quiet, alone, misunderstood, misrepresented, all but forgotten--watches. Watches kindnesses and cruelty, superstition and bravery, all the drama and dullness of an ordinary neighborhood in a forgotten corner of a nation in the throes of depression. Arthur "Boo" Radley hears a child's cry for help when all others are deaf to it. Arthur Radley, in his innocence, rights the wrong and saves the children of the scapegoat of Maycomb, Alabama.
We are the finches. Do we recognize those that are mockingbirds among us? Do we hear their song? Atticus reminded his children, "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us." Scout noticed that the feeling in the courtroom during Tom Robinson's trial was "exactly the same as a cold February morning, when the mockingbirds were still." Mr. Underwood, (interesting name for a reporter--I wonder if Miss Lee composed her book on an Underwood typewriter), the newspaper editor figured it was a "sin to kill cripples, be they standing, sitting, or escaping. He likened Tom's death to the senseless slaughter of songbirds by hunters and children." And, at last, Scout observed that to drag Arthur Radley into the limelight would be "well, it'd be sort of like shootin' a mockingbird, wouldn't it?"
If I am to "get on with my life" I must get this essay monkey off my back. Scout's story is at peril of fading from the "back burner" of my mind into oblivian. What is Scout's message for me?
Scout is telling me that the pen is mightier than the sword. Is there a message I am to share? What is it and
how shall I tell it?
Scout is shouting to me about education-- the core phase of education, where one learns about good and bad, right and wrong--the guiding values and discipline phase of education. Lest I, the reader, miss this point she tells me on page 374 of 376 pages, "As I made my way home, I thought Jem and I would get grown but there wasn't much else left for us to learn, except possibly algebra." Am I equipping myself and my children with a grounded "Scout Style" foundation? Scout serves up diplomacy, fairness, friendship, hospitality, hypocrasy, misplaced guilt, optimism, self-discipline, standards, boundaries, dress and behavior, equality, grammar, courtesy, family honor, respect, parenting, expectations, welfare mentality, vocabulary, the power of unified thought (for good or ill), greatness, the rule of law, literacy, situational ethics, and folly, to name just a few.
Scout is challenging me to notice the details. She is a genius at observation and description. The Finch family, like mine "ran high to daughters". Scout found that she had unwittingly spent her tender years "wallowing illicitly in the daily papers". In her writing mentor Calpurnia's teaching "there was no sentimentality: I seldom pleased her and she seldom rewarded me." I am witness to childhood dares as Jem "treaded water at the gate". A looming shadow was "crisp as toast". At a crucial moment Scout "tarried in indecision a moment too long." Atticus was called to an emergency session of the state legislature as "the Governor was eager to scrape a few barnacles off the ship of state."
Scout is inviting me to write. She is showing me how to observe and record. She is suggesting I pay attention to those around me. She tells me I can send a love letter of gratitude to the uncelebrated heros of my existance.
Scout's world was everything my world is not. Her town was tired, sagged, moved slowly, crumbled. People shuffled, took their time, were in no hurry, yet had a vague optimism and trust in a president who assured them they had "Nothing to fear but fear itself". Her days were filled with routine contentment as she and her brother and their playmate spent the summer hours improving, fussing, and running through their familiar and time-worn list of dramas.
I am a benefactor of Harper Lee's courageous pen. My children are likewise indebted to her opening hearts to the fact that "most people are real nice when you finally see them."
I next read the book aloud to my tween and teenage daughters, just a year ago. Our small town library had provided free copies as a Big Read Humanities Grant selection. So, this month's reading was at least my third visit to the book. I kept a yellow highlighter in one hand, applying it liberally. I became completely immersed in Scout's comings and goings. Of course I knew what was going to happen. I anticipated Atticus's courtroom plea for human decencey, integrity, and the rule of law. I knew Tom Robinson would be a casualty to the ignorance, fear, and prejudice of his neighbors.
Neighbors. This story is about neighbors. This story is about neighbors making a difference. Neighbors hurting and neighbors helping. This story dispells the myth of rugged individualism and installs in its place the need for a community wielding faith, hope, and charity.
It is a story about abandonment and salvation.
Abandonment. Scout is motherless. Dill is fatherless. Mayella is motherless. Arthur is fatherless. Nearly all the significant adults in Scout's life are single. Each one is fighting a battle, of sorts. There is Atticus, holding tenaciously to integrity as the chief virtue he would instill in his children. There is Calpurnia, every bit the equal and even the better of the priveledged community in social graces, education, and insight into human character. There is Mrs. Dubose, a victim of the good intentions of medical attention which has addicted her to morphine. These and all the others not singled out here are bound by the expectations of society and using what ammunition they can to break the chains that bind them.
Ammunition. In this quiver are the arrows of determination (Mrs. Dubose), charity (Tom Robinson), cheerfulness (Miss Maudie), discipline (Calpurnia), humility (Atticus), repentance (Walter Clunningham), long suffering (Arthur Radley).
Chains. Links in that awful chain are pride and revenge (Bob Ewell), ignorance, poverty and abuse ( Mayella Ewell), conformity (Aunt Alexandra's guests), shallowness (Miss Caroline).
Atticus encouraged his children to try to see things through other's eyes-- to "walk in their shoes", as it were. Scout found herself wishing, while the jurors were deliberating, that the entire waiting crowd would concentrate on setting Tom Robinson free. Which is exactly why Harper Lee wrote this book. She wrote that Scout heard Jem say that "if enough people--a stadium full, maybe--were to concentrate on one thing, such as setting a tree afire in the woods, that the tree would ignite of its own accord." That, in a nutshell is how change comes about. That is how ideas take hold.
Salvation. Arthur Radley--quiet, alone, misunderstood, misrepresented, all but forgotten--watches. Watches kindnesses and cruelty, superstition and bravery, all the drama and dullness of an ordinary neighborhood in a forgotten corner of a nation in the throes of depression. Arthur "Boo" Radley hears a child's cry for help when all others are deaf to it. Arthur Radley, in his innocence, rights the wrong and saves the children of the scapegoat of Maycomb, Alabama.
We are the finches. Do we recognize those that are mockingbirds among us? Do we hear their song? Atticus reminded his children, "Mockingbirds don't do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don't eat up people's gardens, don't nest in corncribs, they don't do one thing but sing their hearts out for us." Scout noticed that the feeling in the courtroom during Tom Robinson's trial was "exactly the same as a cold February morning, when the mockingbirds were still." Mr. Underwood, (interesting name for a reporter--I wonder if Miss Lee composed her book on an Underwood typewriter), the newspaper editor figured it was a "sin to kill cripples, be they standing, sitting, or escaping. He likened Tom's death to the senseless slaughter of songbirds by hunters and children." And, at last, Scout observed that to drag Arthur Radley into the limelight would be "well, it'd be sort of like shootin' a mockingbird, wouldn't it?"
If I am to "get on with my life" I must get this essay monkey off my back. Scout's story is at peril of fading from the "back burner" of my mind into oblivian. What is Scout's message for me?
Scout is telling me that the pen is mightier than the sword. Is there a message I am to share? What is it and
how shall I tell it?
Scout is shouting to me about education-- the core phase of education, where one learns about good and bad, right and wrong--the guiding values and discipline phase of education. Lest I, the reader, miss this point she tells me on page 374 of 376 pages, "As I made my way home, I thought Jem and I would get grown but there wasn't much else left for us to learn, except possibly algebra." Am I equipping myself and my children with a grounded "Scout Style" foundation? Scout serves up diplomacy, fairness, friendship, hospitality, hypocrasy, misplaced guilt, optimism, self-discipline, standards, boundaries, dress and behavior, equality, grammar, courtesy, family honor, respect, parenting, expectations, welfare mentality, vocabulary, the power of unified thought (for good or ill), greatness, the rule of law, literacy, situational ethics, and folly, to name just a few.
Scout is challenging me to notice the details. She is a genius at observation and description. The Finch family, like mine "ran high to daughters". Scout found that she had unwittingly spent her tender years "wallowing illicitly in the daily papers". In her writing mentor Calpurnia's teaching "there was no sentimentality: I seldom pleased her and she seldom rewarded me." I am witness to childhood dares as Jem "treaded water at the gate". A looming shadow was "crisp as toast". At a crucial moment Scout "tarried in indecision a moment too long." Atticus was called to an emergency session of the state legislature as "the Governor was eager to scrape a few barnacles off the ship of state."
Scout is inviting me to write. She is showing me how to observe and record. She is suggesting I pay attention to those around me. She tells me I can send a love letter of gratitude to the uncelebrated heros of my existance.
Scout's world was everything my world is not. Her town was tired, sagged, moved slowly, crumbled. People shuffled, took their time, were in no hurry, yet had a vague optimism and trust in a president who assured them they had "Nothing to fear but fear itself". Her days were filled with routine contentment as she and her brother and their playmate spent the summer hours improving, fussing, and running through their familiar and time-worn list of dramas.
I am a benefactor of Harper Lee's courageous pen. My children are likewise indebted to her opening hearts to the fact that "most people are real nice
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Whiteboard Notations & Grand Argument Storymind Notes on TKAM
Two weeks ago I filled a white board with comments made during the conference call my sisters and father had after reading Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. Here they are, in no particular order or significance...
exagerated characters
say-go-be-didn't
suck in your stomach and put some color on
rules of southern women
fringe people
It's not time to worry yet
embarrassed of her dad
tolerance
Daddy/Atticus parallels
weak excuses
side stories make it palatable to a Southern audience
not just an Uncle Tom's Cabin story
both a principle and issue book
careful observing of human nature
insight into human nature
that's just what happened to Joseph (archetype)
say so much with a little phrase
profiling
what is the "static" in our lives preventing us from hearing calls for help
background--literacy--how long your family's been reading
faulting Atticus (or ourselves) for allowing vulnerability
prejudice is pervasive
Civil Right's couldn't have happend before the Salk vaccine
social situations in the South are complex
Dill ran away because he wasn't needed (or didn't feel needed)
I led the discussion, beginning with a brief overview of the Grand Argument Story as explained by Tracy and Laura Hickman at a "Big Read" event I attended a year ago. They explained that there are four journeys in a story-- the Objective Journey, the Main Character Journey, the Impact Character Journey, and the Subjective Journey. Their engaging power-point lecture draws speculations and input from the audience. Eventually it is clear that in THIS story the Objective Journey is the trial of Tom Robinson. The entire town is interested in this event. This is a journey of prejudice. The Main Character Journey would be Scout's. We see the events through her eyes. The Impact Character Journey is Arthur Radley's (or Boo's). He impacts Scout the most. His influence is felt throughout the story (as suggested on the first page of the book). The Subjective Journey is that of both Scout and Boo--their story of overcoming their own prejudices and preconceptions.
I am not saying here that I necessarily agree with this. Some might say that Boo is a Christ archetype. Possibly more on that later.
Speaking of Character Archetypes, the Hickmans go on to explain the Drivers of the Story (or those that move the story forward) and the Passengers of the Story (or those that are taken along for the ride). The Drivers are the Protagonist (or hero), the Contagonist (the one with his or her own agenda, a manipulator, a puppet master), the Guardian (the protector, always weak), and the Antagonist (or the bad guy, as it were). The Passengers of the story are the Skeptic (disbelieving, questioning), the Reason (thinks everything through), the Emotion (feels deeply, acts according to feelings), and the Sidekick (hopeful, believing, faith). Now the fun begins. Who is who in this story? Here are the names: Tom Robinson, May Ella Ewell, Atticus, Bob Ewell, Jem, Scout, Arthur Radley, Dill, and Calpurnia. Now to plug them into their roles in the story. (I won't give away here all the fun the Hickman's have drawing the conclusions out of the audience).
I neglected to share the Mythological Cycle of the Journey Story (again as outlined by the Hickmans). First, the main character crosses a threshold (a point of no return or the first step which takes him or her into the unknown)--the "Threshold Crossing". A Helper comes. There is a "call to adventure". A "prize" is gained (or the person is changed, experiences character growth). The "threshold" is crossed again. This is the "Threshold Return". But this is not the end. There is a "Return to the world", "Attaining the prize", "Helpers" again, and "Tests". The Hickmans also call this the Storymind.
My teenage daughter explains this cycle using the movie "Up". In her words, "Mr. Fredricson wants to go on an adventure. A boy called Russel comes and helps him. They cross the threshold when they go through a storm. A test they go through is trying to return the bird to its home before the other evil guy can get it. More helpers come in the characters of Doug the dog and the bird. They do get the bird back to its home. The go back to society. They have crossed the threshold back home. The prize is they both have grown and learned that relationships are an adventure."
exagerated characters
say-go-be-didn't
suck in your stomach and put some color on
rules of southern women
fringe people
It's not time to worry yet
embarrassed of her dad
tolerance
Daddy/Atticus parallels
weak excuses
side stories make it palatable to a Southern audience
not just an Uncle Tom's Cabin story
both a principle and issue book
careful observing of human nature
insight into human nature
that's just what happened to Joseph (archetype)
say so much with a little phrase
profiling
what is the "static" in our lives preventing us from hearing calls for help
background--literacy--how long your family's been reading
faulting Atticus (or ourselves) for allowing vulnerability
prejudice is pervasive
Civil Right's couldn't have happend before the Salk vaccine
social situations in the South are complex
Dill ran away because he wasn't needed (or didn't feel needed)
I led the discussion, beginning with a brief overview of the Grand Argument Story as explained by Tracy and Laura Hickman at a "Big Read" event I attended a year ago. They explained that there are four journeys in a story-- the Objective Journey, the Main Character Journey, the Impact Character Journey, and the Subjective Journey. Their engaging power-point lecture draws speculations and input from the audience. Eventually it is clear that in THIS story the Objective Journey is the trial of Tom Robinson. The entire town is interested in this event. This is a journey of prejudice. The Main Character Journey would be Scout's. We see the events through her eyes. The Impact Character Journey is Arthur Radley's (or Boo's). He impacts Scout the most. His influence is felt throughout the story (as suggested on the first page of the book). The Subjective Journey is that of both Scout and Boo--their story of overcoming their own prejudices and preconceptions.
I am not saying here that I necessarily agree with this. Some might say that Boo is a Christ archetype. Possibly more on that later.
Speaking of Character Archetypes, the Hickmans go on to explain the Drivers of the Story (or those that move the story forward) and the Passengers of the Story (or those that are taken along for the ride). The Drivers are the Protagonist (or hero), the Contagonist (the one with his or her own agenda, a manipulator, a puppet master), the Guardian (the protector, always weak), and the Antagonist (or the bad guy, as it were). The Passengers of the story are the Skeptic (disbelieving, questioning), the Reason (thinks everything through), the Emotion (feels deeply, acts according to feelings), and the Sidekick (hopeful, believing, faith). Now the fun begins. Who is who in this story? Here are the names: Tom Robinson, May Ella Ewell, Atticus, Bob Ewell, Jem, Scout, Arthur Radley, Dill, and Calpurnia. Now to plug them into their roles in the story. (I won't give away here all the fun the Hickman's have drawing the conclusions out of the audience).
I neglected to share the Mythological Cycle of the Journey Story (again as outlined by the Hickmans). First, the main character crosses a threshold (a point of no return or the first step which takes him or her into the unknown)--the "Threshold Crossing". A Helper comes. There is a "call to adventure". A "prize" is gained (or the person is changed, experiences character growth). The "threshold" is crossed again. This is the "Threshold Return". But this is not the end. There is a "Return to the world", "Attaining the prize", "Helpers" again, and "Tests". The Hickmans also call this the Storymind.
My teenage daughter explains this cycle using the movie "Up". In her words, "Mr. Fredricson wants to go on an adventure. A boy called Russel comes and helps him. They cross the threshold when they go through a storm. A test they go through is trying to return the bird to its home before the other evil guy can get it. More helpers come in the characters of Doug the dog and the bird. They do get the bird back to its home. The go back to society. They have crossed the threshold back home. The prize is they both have grown and learned that relationships are an adventure."
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The Sound of Silence
In the last hour I've finished reading Chaim Potok's The Chosen. My five sisters have been reading it, along with our father. Two weeks ago we had an animated discussion about it on a conference call. I was supposed to have finished reading it but had barely begun. We are all to write an essay and share our thoughts. We are having another conference call tomorrow evening to discuss our essays and here I am just making a beginning.
But before sitting down to write I took a pleasant evening walk with my husband and thirteen-year-old daughter.
We live in a small "town home", but within a very short walk we enjoy the smell of hay as we pass a small corral and its resident horses. We walk a little farther and there is a property with a garden and a cinderblock barn for livestock. We cross a road and walk farther and pass a fenced area still full of sagebrush. Ummm. I love the smell. We walk past several other properties with sprawling groomed lawns and gardens and fully grown pine and fir trees. We admire the architectural and landscaping features. To the west the sun dominates the horizon. We catch golden glimpses of it between the crowded pine trees. And then there are no trees and we see fields and fields. In the distance the sun begins to nest on a mountain range that is so far off it appears to be no bigger than a berm. The last house before the road ends often smells faintly, very faintly of skunk. There is a large red barn at the end of the road. If I were a water-colorist I would want to paint this scene.
We cross the road and head north. We are walking uphill now. On our right is a slope and hollow where lots of fledgling Christmas trees are growing. There are larger trees supervising them. Up the hill can be seen an A-frame home through the screen of trees if one knows to look for it.
Our daughter is telling us about her latest idea for a novel. She is describing the characters and their antics. My husband and I are holding hands. Every so often we hear a vehicle approaching so we move to single file, hugging the edge of the road.
We are far enough along now to see a church steeple peeping over the hill to the east. We keep walking and re-cross the road. We pass a home with a dilapidated trailer home in the yard. The family used to live in it. Every day it is more torn apart. They are recycling the parts. Up ahead there is a canal. It is lined on both sides with Russian Olive trees, but this is not the season when their wonderful smell fills the air. We pass a property that has lots of derelict farm equipment scattered about. I imagine they are all still useful, it is just that they are not the latest models.
Soon we are home, checking our mailbox and heading inside. I have laid claim to the computer and now must tackle my essay about my reading.
I have just experienced a feast for my senses. My reading of The Chosen provided a feast for thought.
Potok introduced me to two fifteen-year-old Jewish boys living in Brooklyn during World War II. They meet by chance in a neighborhood baseball game. They are key players on opposing teams. Reuven's team expects to win. Danny's team intends to win. Reuven is a skilled pitcher and Danny is an aggressive hitter. As it happens, Danny hits one of Reuven's curve balls straight at him and Reuven fails to duck as Danny had anticipated he would. Reuven is wearing glasses and the ball hits him full force in the eye. A piece of lens penetrates Reuven's eye and he is taken to a hospital.
The very tool which enabled Reuven to see is now the implement of possible blindness in that eye. The loss of one eye affects ability to perceive perspective. The reader may guess at this point that Reuven has been perfectly satisfied with how he has seen his world up to this point. We may speculate that we all walk in a sort of seeing/non-seeing state. Our "worldview" is clear and uncluttered.
Perhaps, in actuality, we too suffer from lack of perspective. Perhaps we are only half-seeing, or are blind in one eye. Perhaps the lens through which we shape our world view is faulty. Are we in the same place, metaphorically, that Reuven finds himself in, sitting on a bench waiting for the game to end?
I began to suspect the author was steering me, the reader, towards opening my eyes to something.
I found the game of baseball to be a metaphor of the world at war.
I found the hospital to be another metaphor of the world. Reuven meets a former boxer, an Italian. Reuven observes a little Irish boy persuade the injured boxer to play with him. This act of charity will cost the boxer his eye. Reuven meets a non-Jewish boy who is blind due to an accident. The boy is hopeful a surgery will restore his vision. So, in this one ward of the hospital we meet persons from many nations and walks of life, all cheering for one another and hoping for restored sight. Sometimes charity brings disastrous consequences. Sometimes hope is unfulfilled. It takes courage to stay the course.
The danger for Reuven was that the scar tissue would grow over his pupil and thus rob him of his sight. During his short stay in the hospital Danny came to visit him to apologize. Reuven was angry and unforgiving at first. Then Reuven's father asked him to listen to Danny and to be his friend.
As it happens, Reuven's father has already met Danny and knows something about him. Danny comes from a very Orthodox family whose father is an important rabbi or, more accurately, a tzaddik. Reuven's father has observed that Danny is more than brilliant. Danny is an intellectual phenomenon. Reuven is brilliant in his own right, enough so that he and Danny can understand one another. In fact, both boys find themselves to be a little apart from their peers--Reuven from the watershed moment of the near loss of his eye and Danny because of who he is, what is expected of him, and how he is being raised.
These boys become good friends, despite their many differences. The author chronicles this friendship for the reader over their next four years. During this time World War II comes to an end and the chilling sobering horrifying fact that six million European Jews perished in Hitler's wake came to be known.
Reuven's father becomes politically active in the effort to form a Jewish State -- a place that Jews could call a homeland, where they could find sanctuary. Danny's father felt just as strongly that this state was not a viable solution unless it was established by the coming of the Messiah. The American Jewish community was divided into these two camps.
Throughout these years Danny's father never speaks directly to Danny.
Reuven hated silence. When Reuven's father was in the hospital due to a heart attack, Reuven found silence to be by turns empty, oppressive, and lonely. Reuven could not imagine life with a father who never chatted about the events of the day or instructed or comforted or counseled. Reuven grew to despise Danny's father for what he was doing to his friend.
In fact, Reuven comes to hate Danny's father for the silence, especially when it extends to his requiring Danny to ignore Reuven completely because of the polarity of their families regarding the State of Israel. Danny, however, respects his father and his father's wishes and trusts that there is a reason for all of this that will come to light eventually.
Here again is another metaphor. Danny's father was silent to Danny. So too was the "Master of the Universe" silent to His children. Danny's father trusted that there was something to be learned from this silence and he hoped also that Danny would learn compassion and charity through learning to listen and notice and pay attention.
Reuven's father also prompts Reuven to "listen", even if he doesn't want to.
The author guides the reader through the sense of hearing, or listening. The author also introduces the reader to light. The author takes great pains to describe light through Reuven's eyes. When Reuven's eyesight is restored, when the bandages are removed from his eyes, he experiences the sensation of being reborn. Everything is new to him. Everything is fresh. He wonders how he could have ever taken all this for granted.
The author suggests through Reuven that each of us may experience life in a numb-like trance. All is taken for granted until it is lost, or nearly lost. Loss may come in the form of war, accident, illness, disappointment, and even ignorance.
Reuven sees the light in his room, about the house, on his porch, on the plants. It is light which illuminates. It is light, or the lack thereof, which creates shadows. Light comes in many textures and angles. Reuven, as a mathematecian, would notice angles. Reuven observes a fly trapped in a web. He blows on the web. In this way the fly is released and the spider unharmed. The spider scurries on. The fly escapes.
On such small hinges does fate swing.
Reuven's friend Danny is caught in a web of expectations. Danny's fundamentalist outward religious observance--the way he dresses, his earlocks, his beard--all serve to trap Danny into a prescribed or orthadox pattern of living. Danny's professors and classes bind him to a limited menu of choices. Reuven observes Danny's frustration mount. Finally Danny asks of his friend help in springing his trap.
I began structuring this story in my mind around a pivotal turn in the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wondered how it would have been for two young men (like Danny and Reuven) to grow up during the early years in Utah. Their people would have just fled severe persecution in the United States of America. They would have been part of carving out a place in the new State of Deseret to call their own. Their leader, the dynamic "modern Moses", Brigham Young did not want another expulsion for "the saints". In addition to the contreversial practice of polygamy, he designed an alphabet, a "United Order" economic model, and a self-contained production model where all their needs could be met through their own industry. Then, within a short span of years for the boys another leader would make the difficult decision to abadon polygamy, the alphabet, and the experimental eutopion "united order" communities in favor of gaining statehood in the very nation which had expelled them as a people. These boys would perhaps be on opposing sides of these issues. They would have to "listen" and "see" outside of their own experience and understanding.
What I kept feeling for Reuven was the need to forgive. Reuven hated Danny at first for deliberately wounding him, and possibly robbing him of his precious gift of sight. Yet hate is like scar tissue of the heart. If Reuven's eye would have developed scar tissue he would not have healed. Scar tissue of the heart robs us of the ability to feel. Sometimes hate stalks us in the guise of charity or empathy. Afterall, we hate on the behalf of another. Reuven hated Danny's father on behalf of Danny.
On a larger scale, Reuven's father's Jewish community hated Hitler for his inhuman treatment of their people. Reuven's father's community felt that the establishment of a Jewish State of Israel would validate the senseless loss of six million lives. Danny's father's community felt that for "man" to establish the State of Israel would be to denounce their God and make a mockery of the centuries of suffering the Jews endured while holding to the tenents of their faith. To this community, living their religion faithfully and dutifully and charitably was what was needed to honor their deceased kinsmen.
The establishment of Israel through the United Nations came about through terrorism and resulted in continued hatred and bloodshed. Perhaps, in the long run, Danny's father's community was right. However, the die has been cast. Man grew impatient with a silent God, took matters into their own hands, and must live with the consequences.
Forgiveness is difficult under any circumstances. It is especially difficult in the framework of righteous indignation over a sense of abandonment and rampant hostility.
Imagine a world that forgave the Jews, forgave the Germans, and forgave God. Imagine a world that created a way to provide sanctuary to any people threatened with genocide. Imagine a world that forgave each other and forgave ourselves. Yes, all were to blame. They were a stranger and we took them not in. They were hungry and we fed them not. They were thirsty and we gave them not to drink. They were naked and we clothed them not.
God does not give us the spirit of fear. (2nd Timothy 1:7) These people needed sanctuary at a time when people around the world were suffering from severe economic depression. There was real fear that there was not enough to share. There was fear that offering help would bring political retaliation. It was a time of fear.
Yet, through all this came many instances of individual charity, despite the threat of suffering, even unto death, for such acts.
Both Danny's and Reuven's fathers acted in ways that they saw best. Both Danny and Reuven learned to listen, to understand, and to see more clearly through the charity of their elders.
I myself have learned something of the power of forgiveness. In my case I came to rely upon the atonement of Jesus Christ. What a gift that is. As difficult as forgiveness is WITH the help of the Savior, I can't imagine what it would be without that promise to lean on. And yet, I trust it must be possible. Forgiveness is the only way to heal the heart. And the heart that is compassionate is the only way to life. I recently heard it said that "there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way." So too, there is no way to forgiveness, forgiveness is the way.
Let us not develop blinding scar tissue on our eyes by pre-judging another, whether it be those who lived before us or those that live beside us. Let us not develop spiritual atrophy in our hearts through hate.
I thank God for taking away my pain, through my Savior's love. I thank God for helping me to pray when I was not inclined to pray. I thank God for allowing me to live when I wanted to die. I thank God for forgiving me for wanting to die. I thank God for helping me to forgive, completely forgive and I thank God that another could forgive me. I thank God for forgiveness, through Jesus Christ and through the Gift of the Holy Ghost.
While we were on our evening walk I was thinking intermittently about what I might write once I got home. By going on a walk I was creating some thinking space for myself. I was curious what my mind would do with the experience of the book if left alone for a bit. I asked my husband if he remembered any of the lyrics to Simon & Garfunkle's popular song "The Sound of Silence". We came up with a few lines between us but admitted defeat and continued to enjoy the walk.
Once home I did an internet search, found the lyrics, and decided they didn't really apply to my thoughts about this book. Unless in the sense that Danny was fascinated by psychoanalysis and Reuven often had disturbing dreams he could not recall upon waking. The song begins, "In restless dreams I walked alone narrow streets of cobblestone..." The song implies that somewhere sense or truth can be found in the "sound of silence", which is what Danny's father hoped for his son. Words are often misunderstood, taken too seriously, or too lightly. We would not prescribe silence as a solution to self-absorbtion, and yet that is how Danny was raised.
If we are indeed children of a Heavenly Being, we too are raised in silence. Even if we believe in real-time revelation through a prophet, we are still required to listen to the spirit for answers to our personal prayers. We must hearken to that "still small voice" that is found inside for confirmation of our own witness to faith. Eventually, even our own family members pass beyond the veil of this life and we are left to a kind of silence. God's and our loved one's voices transcend the limitations of our outward senses and speak to our hearts. At any rate, that is our hope.
But before sitting down to write I took a pleasant evening walk with my husband and thirteen-year-old daughter.
We live in a small "town home", but within a very short walk we enjoy the smell of hay as we pass a small corral and its resident horses. We walk a little farther and there is a property with a garden and a cinderblock barn for livestock. We cross a road and walk farther and pass a fenced area still full of sagebrush. Ummm. I love the smell. We walk past several other properties with sprawling groomed lawns and gardens and fully grown pine and fir trees. We admire the architectural and landscaping features. To the west the sun dominates the horizon. We catch golden glimpses of it between the crowded pine trees. And then there are no trees and we see fields and fields. In the distance the sun begins to nest on a mountain range that is so far off it appears to be no bigger than a berm. The last house before the road ends often smells faintly, very faintly of skunk. There is a large red barn at the end of the road. If I were a water-colorist I would want to paint this scene.
We cross the road and head north. We are walking uphill now. On our right is a slope and hollow where lots of fledgling Christmas trees are growing. There are larger trees supervising them. Up the hill can be seen an A-frame home through the screen of trees if one knows to look for it.
Our daughter is telling us about her latest idea for a novel. She is describing the characters and their antics. My husband and I are holding hands. Every so often we hear a vehicle approaching so we move to single file, hugging the edge of the road.
We are far enough along now to see a church steeple peeping over the hill to the east. We keep walking and re-cross the road. We pass a home with a dilapidated trailer home in the yard. The family used to live in it. Every day it is more torn apart. They are recycling the parts. Up ahead there is a canal. It is lined on both sides with Russian Olive trees, but this is not the season when their wonderful smell fills the air. We pass a property that has lots of derelict farm equipment scattered about. I imagine they are all still useful, it is just that they are not the latest models.
Soon we are home, checking our mailbox and heading inside. I have laid claim to the computer and now must tackle my essay about my reading.
I have just experienced a feast for my senses. My reading of The Chosen provided a feast for thought.
Potok introduced me to two fifteen-year-old Jewish boys living in Brooklyn during World War II. They meet by chance in a neighborhood baseball game. They are key players on opposing teams. Reuven's team expects to win. Danny's team intends to win. Reuven is a skilled pitcher and Danny is an aggressive hitter. As it happens, Danny hits one of Reuven's curve balls straight at him and Reuven fails to duck as Danny had anticipated he would. Reuven is wearing glasses and the ball hits him full force in the eye. A piece of lens penetrates Reuven's eye and he is taken to a hospital.
The very tool which enabled Reuven to see is now the implement of possible blindness in that eye. The loss of one eye affects ability to perceive perspective. The reader may guess at this point that Reuven has been perfectly satisfied with how he has seen his world up to this point. We may speculate that we all walk in a sort of seeing/non-seeing state. Our "worldview" is clear and uncluttered.
Perhaps, in actuality, we too suffer from lack of perspective. Perhaps we are only half-seeing, or are blind in one eye. Perhaps the lens through which we shape our world view is faulty. Are we in the same place, metaphorically, that Reuven finds himself in, sitting on a bench waiting for the game to end?
I began to suspect the author was steering me, the reader, towards opening my eyes to something.
I found the game of baseball to be a metaphor of the world at war.
I found the hospital to be another metaphor of the world. Reuven meets a former boxer, an Italian. Reuven observes a little Irish boy persuade the injured boxer to play with him. This act of charity will cost the boxer his eye. Reuven meets a non-Jewish boy who is blind due to an accident. The boy is hopeful a surgery will restore his vision. So, in this one ward of the hospital we meet persons from many nations and walks of life, all cheering for one another and hoping for restored sight. Sometimes charity brings disastrous consequences. Sometimes hope is unfulfilled. It takes courage to stay the course.
The danger for Reuven was that the scar tissue would grow over his pupil and thus rob him of his sight. During his short stay in the hospital Danny came to visit him to apologize. Reuven was angry and unforgiving at first. Then Reuven's father asked him to listen to Danny and to be his friend.
As it happens, Reuven's father has already met Danny and knows something about him. Danny comes from a very Orthodox family whose father is an important rabbi or, more accurately, a tzaddik. Reuven's father has observed that Danny is more than brilliant. Danny is an intellectual phenomenon. Reuven is brilliant in his own right, enough so that he and Danny can understand one another. In fact, both boys find themselves to be a little apart from their peers--Reuven from the watershed moment of the near loss of his eye and Danny because of who he is, what is expected of him, and how he is being raised.
These boys become good friends, despite their many differences. The author chronicles this friendship for the reader over their next four years. During this time World War II comes to an end and the chilling sobering horrifying fact that six million European Jews perished in Hitler's wake came to be known.
Reuven's father becomes politically active in the effort to form a Jewish State -- a place that Jews could call a homeland, where they could find sanctuary. Danny's father felt just as strongly that this state was not a viable solution unless it was established by the coming of the Messiah. The American Jewish community was divided into these two camps.
Throughout these years Danny's father never speaks directly to Danny.
Reuven hated silence. When Reuven's father was in the hospital due to a heart attack, Reuven found silence to be by turns empty, oppressive, and lonely. Reuven could not imagine life with a father who never chatted about the events of the day or instructed or comforted or counseled. Reuven grew to despise Danny's father for what he was doing to his friend.
In fact, Reuven comes to hate Danny's father for the silence, especially when it extends to his requiring Danny to ignore Reuven completely because of the polarity of their families regarding the State of Israel. Danny, however, respects his father and his father's wishes and trusts that there is a reason for all of this that will come to light eventually.
Here again is another metaphor. Danny's father was silent to Danny. So too was the "Master of the Universe" silent to His children. Danny's father trusted that there was something to be learned from this silence and he hoped also that Danny would learn compassion and charity through learning to listen and notice and pay attention.
Reuven's father also prompts Reuven to "listen", even if he doesn't want to.
The author guides the reader through the sense of hearing, or listening. The author also introduces the reader to light. The author takes great pains to describe light through Reuven's eyes. When Reuven's eyesight is restored, when the bandages are removed from his eyes, he experiences the sensation of being reborn. Everything is new to him. Everything is fresh. He wonders how he could have ever taken all this for granted.
The author suggests through Reuven that each of us may experience life in a numb-like trance. All is taken for granted until it is lost, or nearly lost. Loss may come in the form of war, accident, illness, disappointment, and even ignorance.
Reuven sees the light in his room, about the house, on his porch, on the plants. It is light which illuminates. It is light, or the lack thereof, which creates shadows. Light comes in many textures and angles. Reuven, as a mathematecian, would notice angles. Reuven observes a fly trapped in a web. He blows on the web. In this way the fly is released and the spider unharmed. The spider scurries on. The fly escapes.
On such small hinges does fate swing.
Reuven's friend Danny is caught in a web of expectations. Danny's fundamentalist outward religious observance--the way he dresses, his earlocks, his beard--all serve to trap Danny into a prescribed or orthadox pattern of living. Danny's professors and classes bind him to a limited menu of choices. Reuven observes Danny's frustration mount. Finally Danny asks of his friend help in springing his trap.
I began structuring this story in my mind around a pivotal turn in the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I wondered how it would have been for two young men (like Danny and Reuven) to grow up during the early years in Utah. Their people would have just fled severe persecution in the United States of America. They would have been part of carving out a place in the new State of Deseret to call their own. Their leader, the dynamic "modern Moses", Brigham Young did not want another expulsion for "the saints". In addition to the contreversial practice of polygamy, he designed an alphabet, a "United Order" economic model, and a self-contained production model where all their needs could be met through their own industry. Then, within a short span of years for the boys another leader would make the difficult decision to abadon polygamy, the alphabet, and the experimental eutopion "united order" communities in favor of gaining statehood in the very nation which had expelled them as a people. These boys would perhaps be on opposing sides of these issues. They would have to "listen" and "see" outside of their own experience and understanding.
What I kept feeling for Reuven was the need to forgive. Reuven hated Danny at first for deliberately wounding him, and possibly robbing him of his precious gift of sight. Yet hate is like scar tissue of the heart. If Reuven's eye would have developed scar tissue he would not have healed. Scar tissue of the heart robs us of the ability to feel. Sometimes hate stalks us in the guise of charity or empathy. Afterall, we hate on the behalf of another. Reuven hated Danny's father on behalf of Danny.
On a larger scale, Reuven's father's Jewish community hated Hitler for his inhuman treatment of their people. Reuven's father's community felt that the establishment of a Jewish State of Israel would validate the senseless loss of six million lives. Danny's father's community felt that for "man" to establish the State of Israel would be to denounce their God and make a mockery of the centuries of suffering the Jews endured while holding to the tenents of their faith. To this community, living their religion faithfully and dutifully and charitably was what was needed to honor their deceased kinsmen.
The establishment of Israel through the United Nations came about through terrorism and resulted in continued hatred and bloodshed. Perhaps, in the long run, Danny's father's community was right. However, the die has been cast. Man grew impatient with a silent God, took matters into their own hands, and must live with the consequences.
Forgiveness is difficult under any circumstances. It is especially difficult in the framework of righteous indignation over a sense of abandonment and rampant hostility.
Imagine a world that forgave the Jews, forgave the Germans, and forgave God. Imagine a world that created a way to provide sanctuary to any people threatened with genocide. Imagine a world that forgave each other and forgave ourselves. Yes, all were to blame. They were a stranger and we took them not in. They were hungry and we fed them not. They were thirsty and we gave them not to drink. They were naked and we clothed them not.
God does not give us the spirit of fear. (2nd Timothy 1:7) These people needed sanctuary at a time when people around the world were suffering from severe economic depression. There was real fear that there was not enough to share. There was fear that offering help would bring political retaliation. It was a time of fear.
Yet, through all this came many instances of individual charity, despite the threat of suffering, even unto death, for such acts.
Both Danny's and Reuven's fathers acted in ways that they saw best. Both Danny and Reuven learned to listen, to understand, and to see more clearly through the charity of their elders.
I myself have learned something of the power of forgiveness. In my case I came to rely upon the atonement of Jesus Christ. What a gift that is. As difficult as forgiveness is WITH the help of the Savior, I can't imagine what it would be without that promise to lean on. And yet, I trust it must be possible. Forgiveness is the only way to heal the heart. And the heart that is compassionate is the only way to life. I recently heard it said that "there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way." So too, there is no way to forgiveness, forgiveness is the way.
Let us not develop blinding scar tissue on our eyes by pre-judging another, whether it be those who lived before us or those that live beside us. Let us not develop spiritual atrophy in our hearts through hate.
I thank God for taking away my pain, through my Savior's love. I thank God for helping me to pray when I was not inclined to pray. I thank God for allowing me to live when I wanted to die. I thank God for forgiving me for wanting to die. I thank God for helping me to forgive, completely forgive and I thank God that another could forgive me. I thank God for forgiveness, through Jesus Christ and through the Gift of the Holy Ghost.
While we were on our evening walk I was thinking intermittently about what I might write once I got home. By going on a walk I was creating some thinking space for myself. I was curious what my mind would do with the experience of the book if left alone for a bit. I asked my husband if he remembered any of the lyrics to Simon & Garfunkle's popular song "The Sound of Silence". We came up with a few lines between us but admitted defeat and continued to enjoy the walk.
Once home I did an internet search, found the lyrics, and decided they didn't really apply to my thoughts about this book. Unless in the sense that Danny was fascinated by psychoanalysis and Reuven often had disturbing dreams he could not recall upon waking. The song begins, "In restless dreams I walked alone narrow streets of cobblestone..." The song implies that somewhere sense or truth can be found in the "sound of silence", which is what Danny's father hoped for his son. Words are often misunderstood, taken too seriously, or too lightly. We would not prescribe silence as a solution to self-absorbtion, and yet that is how Danny was raised.
If we are indeed children of a Heavenly Being, we too are raised in silence. Even if we believe in real-time revelation through a prophet, we are still required to listen to the spirit for answers to our personal prayers. We must hearken to that "still small voice" that is found inside for confirmation of our own witness to faith. Eventually, even our own family members pass beyond the veil of this life and we are left to a kind of silence. God's and our loved one's voices transcend the limitations of our outward senses and speak to our hearts. At any rate, that is our hope.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
What Is Seen and What Is Not Seen
To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. (Newton's Third Law of Motion)
(Yes, I was listening in Jr. High science class. That may be the only thing I remember, but there it is. And thanks to Google, I can even credit the source).
"There is a law irrevocably decreed in heaven upon which all blessings are predicated. Any blessing we receive from God is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." At the impressionable age of 14 I repeated this promise aloud each week before the mid-week teen church group convened. A google search produced the reference and also the exact wording. My memory had it nearly correct!
"There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated— And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." Doctrine & Covenants, section 130, verses 20 and 21.
More recently I have had occasion to mentally visit an essay written by economist and statesman Frederic Bastiat which he titled "What Is Seen and What Is Not Seen". In the confines of this work he addresses the question of taxation as applied to the fledgling free economy of France in the mid-1800's. He questioned escalating a standing military force or supporting the theatres and fine arts through taxation. He even questioned government support of public works and subsidizing industry or agriculture. He denounced leveling the financial playing field by means of "easy credit" and was against supporting protectorate economies in foreign lands for the sole purpose of easing social ills at home by enticing "surplus population" to emigrate and thereby strike up trade that would animate the economy.
His hypothetical piece predates the revolutions which gave birth to what was hoped by some would become a world-wide Utopia created by communist and socialist ideals. The "Great Experiments" had yet to begin. Indeed, Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, which invited intellectual scrutiny and national economic experimentation during a period of increasing colonialism, had been published just seventy-five years earlier. The term "capitalism" was being introduced by fellow Frenchman, Louis Blanc almost simultaneosly with the "Seen and Not Seen" piece. The ideas put forth by Bastiet came at a pivotal moment on the timeline of world economies.
I suggest that Bastiet is most closely aligned with the Austrian School Economic model, which in a nutshell can be described as "advocating property rights and the freedom to contract and trade. The Late Scholastics elebrated the contribution of business to society, while doggedly opposing taxes, price controls, and regulations that inhibited enterprise. As moral theologians, they urged governments to obey ethical strictures against theft and murder. And they lived up to Ludwig von Mises's rule: the first job of an economist is to tell governments what they cannot do." http://mises.org/etexts/austrian.asp
I will resist the temptation to visit The Chicago School of Economics, the Neo-Keynesian School or the Monetarist School which have dominated economic policy of The West for the past century.
So, what application can be made today between Bastiet's warnings, if they can be called that, and today's economic entaglements with these self-same issues?
Thomas E. Woods, Jr. does just that in his recent book, Meltdown: A Free-Market Look at Why the Stock Market Collapsed, the Economy Tanked, and Government Bailouts Will Make Things Worse. "In clear, no-nonsense terms, Woods explains what led up to economic crisis, who's really to blame, and why government bailouts won't work. Woods argues that the only way to rebuild our economy is by returning to the fundamentals of capitalism and letting the free market work."
On a more personal note, I recall attending a clogging competition a number of years back where my children were performing. I looked around and saw hundreds of costumed young people from toddlers to teens and even some adults. I did some mental calculations about the amount of money that was represented by this event. First, each child attended weekly lessons. Next, each performer had to purchase one or more costumes. Each teacher rented a studio space of some sort, owned sound equipment of some sort, and had a music library of some sort. Each parent paid gas to transport their child to and from the lessons. Each dancer had to own specialized shoes. To attend the event each child had to purchase tickets in order for the space to be reserved for this many people. Judges must be paid. Even the cameras present were indicative of funds spent on photo gear, film, processing, albums, decorative papers, movies and so forth.These parents represented hours and hours of discretionary time and money spent to support lessons, performances and documentation. Our family drove an hour and a half to be there. Many attendees drove further. I remember thinking to myself that all this reflected a healthy economy.
What was seen was a huge performance competition. What was not seen was all that I inventoried in my mind's eye. What was not seen was the freedom of choice all these people had with how to spend their time and money. What was not seen were the personal committments and decisions that were made by many an invdividual to try harder. Some of the contestants possibly traded work for lessons or earned their own lessons. Some of the parents, myself included, wanted to give their children opportunities they hadn't been given.. They worked harder, saved, or did without some other necessity or luxury to make this happen for their child. What was not seen was the time spent together in the car visiting or coming together as a family under the auspices of this event.
One might ask, "Is it right or fair that some children have the benefit of indulgent parents who provide them with an opportunity to learn skills, to perform, and to be featured in photograph albums or movies? Should clogging, or other performance platforms, be included in the public schools at all levels? And if so, how would costumes and travel expenses be covered?"
One might also ask, "Are the children who are groomed to perform more likely to be involved in school sporting programs and thus associate with the social elite and thus marry into or perpetuate an upwardly mobile class culture? Where do the advantages stop?" These same sorts of questions could be applied to any scholastic niche.
I once read a story about a little girl who was born into challenging circumstances. Her father, though good hearted, drank to excess. Her mother and grandmother wanted more for this little girl and her brother than they themselves had and what association with the neighborhood children would bring. In hopes of a better life for the children they read aloud to them each night from great literature. The girl's father would take her on long walks on Sunday afternoons. In this way they found a school that was much better than the one in their neighborhood. The girl eventually was able to attend the better school, receive the mentoring she needed to give her a window out of the squalor of her youth, and her parents hopes were realized.
This is the story told by Betty Smith in her novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. In essence, this is "The American Dream". That is, that through personal effort and determination and perseverence a better way was found, grasped, and used to change the story of this girl, and with this girl a family, and with this family a community, and with this community a nation.
Everything else is cosmetic. The school choice challenge has been addressed in these times with busing and federal monies and programs to help the disadvantaged. But with these programs there can be an undercurrent of dependency, entitlement, loss of dignity, and backlash of some sort. The real difference for this girl was made from what happened in her home-- the reading and discussing of good books, the knowledge that she was loved and sacrificed for and believed in. Her parents were imperfect, as were her circumstances. Yet there was hope.
With all this saying, have I said anything? Possibly not. It still remains, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. There are eternal and irrefutable laws of the universe. Any blessing that an individual or a society realizes is in direct obedience to that law upon which it is predicated. If our society, our culture, our personal freedoms are in a mess, we made it so. To untagle them we would be advised to find a course that runs more true to the irrevocable laws of nature. There are economic laws just as there are physical laws. They are no doubt entwined with eternal laws of morality as well. That which appeared to be a good idea or a quick fix during prior times of economic stress may be the hinges upon which our present troubles swing.
I am in favor of taking a serious look at Bastiet's apparently simple approach of laissez-faire and letting a more free market be given a chance at becoming a better provider of freedom, within the confines of a more informed and financially literate society.
I
(Yes, I was listening in Jr. High science class. That may be the only thing I remember, but there it is. And thanks to Google, I can even credit the source).
"There is a law irrevocably decreed in heaven upon which all blessings are predicated. Any blessing we receive from God is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." At the impressionable age of 14 I repeated this promise aloud each week before the mid-week teen church group convened. A google search produced the reference and also the exact wording. My memory had it nearly correct!
"There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated— And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated." Doctrine & Covenants, section 130, verses 20 and 21.
More recently I have had occasion to mentally visit an essay written by economist and statesman Frederic Bastiat which he titled "What Is Seen and What Is Not Seen". In the confines of this work he addresses the question of taxation as applied to the fledgling free economy of France in the mid-1800's. He questioned escalating a standing military force or supporting the theatres and fine arts through taxation. He even questioned government support of public works and subsidizing industry or agriculture. He denounced leveling the financial playing field by means of "easy credit" and was against supporting protectorate economies in foreign lands for the sole purpose of easing social ills at home by enticing "surplus population" to emigrate and thereby strike up trade that would animate the economy.
His hypothetical piece predates the revolutions which gave birth to what was hoped by some would become a world-wide Utopia created by communist and socialist ideals. The "Great Experiments" had yet to begin. Indeed, Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, which invited intellectual scrutiny and national economic experimentation during a period of increasing colonialism, had been published just seventy-five years earlier. The term "capitalism" was being introduced by fellow Frenchman, Louis Blanc almost simultaneosly with the "Seen and Not Seen" piece. The ideas put forth by Bastiet came at a pivotal moment on the timeline of world economies.
I suggest that Bastiet is most closely aligned with the Austrian School Economic model, which in a nutshell can be described as "advocating property rights and the freedom to contract and trade. The Late Scholastics elebrated the contribution of business to society, while doggedly opposing taxes, price controls, and regulations that inhibited enterprise. As moral theologians, they urged governments to obey ethical strictures against theft and murder. And they lived up to Ludwig von Mises's rule: the first job of an economist is to tell governments what they cannot do." http://mises.org/etexts/austrian.asp
I will resist the temptation to visit The Chicago School of Economics, the Neo-Keynesian School or the Monetarist School which have dominated economic policy of The West for the past century.
So, what application can be made today between Bastiet's warnings, if they can be called that, and today's economic entaglements with these self-same issues?
Thomas E. Woods, Jr. does just that in his recent book, Meltdown: A Free-Market Look at Why the Stock Market Collapsed, the Economy Tanked, and Government Bailouts Will Make Things Worse. "In clear, no-nonsense terms, Woods explains what led up to
On a more personal note, I recall attending a clogging competition a number of years back where my children were performing. I looked around and saw hundreds of costumed young people from toddlers to teens and even some adults. I did some mental calculations about the amount of money that was represented by this event. First, each child attended weekly lessons. Next, each performer had to purchase one or more costumes. Each teacher rented a studio space of some sort, owned sound equipment of some sort, and had a music library of some sort. Each parent paid gas to transport their child to and from the lessons. Each dancer had to own specialized shoes. To attend the event each child had to purchase tickets in order for the space to be reserved for this many people. Judges must be paid. Even the cameras present were indicative of funds spent on photo gear, film, processing, albums, decorative papers, movies and so forth.These parents represented hours and hours of discretionary time and money spent to support lessons, performances and documentation. Our family drove an hour and a half to be there. Many attendees drove further. I remember thinking to myself that all this reflected a healthy economy.
What was seen was a huge performance competition. What was not seen was all that I inventoried in my mind's eye. What was not seen was the freedom of choice all these people had with how to spend their time and money. What was not seen were the personal committments and decisions that were made by many an invdividual to try harder. Some of the contestants possibly traded work for lessons or earned their own lessons. Some of the parents, myself included, wanted to give their children opportunities they hadn't been given.. They worked harder, saved, or did without some other necessity or luxury to make this happen for their child. What was not seen was the time spent together in the car visiting or coming together as a family under the auspices of this event.
One might ask, "Is it right or fair that some children have the benefit of indulgent parents who provide them with an opportunity to learn skills, to perform, and to be featured in photograph albums or movies? Should clogging, or other performance platforms, be included in the public schools at all levels? And if so, how would costumes and travel expenses be covered?"
One might also ask, "Are the children who are groomed to perform more likely to be involved in school sporting programs and thus associate with the social elite and thus marry into or perpetuate an upwardly mobile class culture? Where do the advantages stop?" These same sorts of questions could be applied to any scholastic niche.
I once read a story about a little girl who was born into challenging circumstances. Her father, though good hearted, drank to excess. Her mother and grandmother wanted more for this little girl and her brother than they themselves had and what association with the neighborhood children would bring. In hopes of a better life for the children they read aloud to them each night from great literature. The girl's father would take her on long walks on Sunday afternoons. In this way they found a school that was much better than the one in their neighborhood. The girl eventually was able to attend the better school, receive the mentoring she needed to give her a window out of the squalor of her youth, and her parents hopes were realized.
This is the story told by Betty Smith in her novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. In essence, this is "The American Dream". That is, that through personal effort and determination and perseverence a better way was found, grasped, and used to change the story of this girl, and with this girl a family, and with this family a community, and with this community a nation.
Everything else is cosmetic. The school choice challenge has been addressed in these times with busing and federal monies and programs to help the disadvantaged. But with these programs there can be an undercurrent of dependency, entitlement, loss of dignity, and backlash of some sort. The real difference for this girl was made from what happened in her home-- the reading and discussing of good books, the knowledge that she was loved and sacrificed for and believed in. Her parents were imperfect, as were her circumstances. Yet there was hope.
With all this saying, have I said anything? Possibly not. It still remains, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. There are eternal and irrefutable laws of the universe. Any blessing that an individual or a society realizes is in direct obedience to that law upon which it is predicated. If our society, our culture, our personal freedoms are in a mess, we made it so. To untagle them we would be advised to find a course that runs more true to the irrevocable laws of nature. There are economic laws just as there are physical laws. They are no doubt entwined with eternal laws of morality as well. That which appeared to be a good idea or a quick fix during prior times of economic stress may be the hinges upon which our present troubles swing.
I am in favor of taking a serious look at Bastiet's apparently simple approach of laissez-faire and letting a more free market be given a chance at becoming a better provider of freedom, within the confines of a more informed and financially literate society.
I
Monday, December 8, 2008
Not in MY Universe!
While raising my six children I would often say "It's a rule of the Universe" as my explanation for requesting/requiring a desired behavior. This worked well, up until my sixth child, who at a very young toddler age quipped, "Not in MY universe!" without missing a beat.
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