Lost Legacy: Black, White, and Blue

My lovely, and very conservative, friend Anon E. Mouse, also known as F1, is back. I thought one of my shots from the left had scared her away, but fortunately that's not the case. 

One of the things most likely to get me "hopping mad" (as Dad used to say; RIP) is racism, most especially the domestic American sort, since I was largely raised within that culture. One of Mouse's friends alluded to it during one of our debates, then backpedaled (and I did too, after calling him on it), but I didn't think she'd subscribe to such a narrow-minded notion herself. I was disappointed to receive the following email from her this morning. 

First, though, let me apologize sincerely for some of the words and terms used by the original author, and (sadly) tacitly endorsed by my friend, an intelligent woman who should know much better. I apologize as well for dirtying this site with the author's assertion and notions; I most certainly do not share them. (I've reformatted just a bit, and minimally touched up some of the punctuation – as usual, hate literature betrays its adherents' lack of sound education.): 

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 9:23 AM
Subject: FW: Fw: Proud To Be White 

Proud To Be White 

[image: painting of a rugged, older, gun-carrying cowboy] 

Someone finally said it. 

How many are actually paying attention to this? 

There are African Americans, Mexican Americans, Asian Americans, Arab Americans, Native Americans, etc. 

And then there are just Americans. 

You pass me on the street and sneer in my direction. 

You Call me "White boy," "Cracker," "Honkey," "Whitey," "Caveman"... 

And that's OK. 

But when I call you, Nigger, Kike, Towel head, Sand-nigger, Camel Jockey, Beaner, Gook, or Chink... 

You call me a racist.

Also added is Nappy Headed HO's

You say that whites commit a lot of violence against you, so why are the ghettos the most dangerous places to live? 

You have the United Negro College Fund. 

You have Martin Luther King Day. 

You have Black History Month. 

You have Cesar Chavez Day. 

You Have Yom Hashoah 

You have Ma'uled Al-Nabi 

You have the NAACP. 

You have BET. 

If we had WET (White Entertainment Television)... 

We'd be racists. 

If we had a White Pride Day... 

You would call us racists. 

If we had White History Month 

We'd be racists. 

If we had any organization for only whites to "advance" OUR lives... 

We'd be racists. 

We have a Hispanic Chamber of Commerce, a Black Chamber of Commerce, 

And then we just have the plain Chamber of Commerce. 

Wonder who pays for that? 

If we had a college fund that only gave white students scholarships... 

You know we'd be racists. 

There are over 60 openly proclaimed Black Colleges in the US, 

Yet if there were "White colleges"… 

THAT would be a racist college. 

In the Million Man March, you believed that you were marching for your race and rights. 

If we marched for our race and rights, 

You would call us racists. 

You are proud to be black, brown, yellow and orange, and you're not afraid to announce it. 

But when we announce our white pride... 

You call us racists. 

You rob us, carjack us, and shoot at us. 

But, when a white police officer shoots a black gang member or beats up a black drug-dealer running from the law and posing a threat to society... 

You call him a racist. 

I am proud. 

But, you call me a racist. 

Why is it that only whites can be racists? 

There is nothing improper about this e-mail. 

Let's see which of you are proud enough to send it on. 

[image: painting of cowboy father and son, riding horses] 

I was livid. I stopped what I was doing (something time-critical for the Director), sent back my response. While it was aimed at all people who tout such a lowbrow life, my phrasing may have made it come across to Mouse as blasting specifically at her: 

Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 10:05 AM
Subject: RE: Fw: Proud To Be White 

Oh, please! You want a real bigotry test? How many of you Dixie-flag saluters would rather die than receive a blood transfusion from a man or woman of color? All of you? No surprise there. Me, I'd be honored. How about serve as a missionary, or doctor, or nurse, in Africa… or even Guadalajara? Or does your skin crawl when a black man gets in line behind you at McDonald's? 

"Whiteness" as such is strictly a matter of melanin; it's controlled by genetics. Groups banding together due to a melanin-rich genetic background (as mentioned by the unnamed, bedsheet-wearing coward of an author who wrote that execrable piece) have done so because power-wielding Caucasians oppressed them for generations; the legacy can be seen in those statistics alluded to. 

I want no part of "white pride". These narrow-minded hypocritical bigots have totally lost sight of the real "white pride" legacy: the whip-hand, the lynching, the cross-burnings, kidnapped Africans stacked like cordwood in leaking ships and dragged across the ocean to be sold like third-rate rotting produce, and other horrors that assure the "whites-only" folks will never be white-handed: generations of spilled blood do not wipe off through sanctimonious, ignorant, fantasy-based "pride". 

"White pride" can go to hell, and burn with every man and woman who'd rather spit on a non-Caucasian than feed him, or bind his wounds, or give him a job. You go ahead and form your lynch-mobs and hate-groups, and puff yourselves up arrogantly; me, "may I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Galatians 6:14)… the same cross you'd rather see burning than redeeming. Perhaps it's that page out of Galatians you're using first as tinder. 

Regards,

AgingChild 

Mouse responded very quickly: 

Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 10:17 AM
Subject: RE: Fw: Proud To Be White 

AC, in all seriousness how come we're called racists yet I can't call them racists when they spout off about Black History month, Miss Black USA, etc. I'm tried of it all. Plus I'm tired off all the hoppla over African American, you're either an American or you're not! What, should I call myself a White American? 

I gave her my response in turn… calming down a bit a third of the way in: 

Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 10:51 AM
Subject: RE: Fw: Proud To Be White

Anyone is a racist who rejects a fellow human on the basis of their ethnicity, especially as manifested outwardly in the arguably insignificant difference of skin-pigmentation. So an African-American who says his daughter may not marry a Caucasian because he's a Caucasian is, yes, a racist. So is, say, a man behind the microphone – with millions of adherents – who from his public position mocks a group of people based on racially-identifiable features and patterns of speech. So is a German (or Iranian) who wants to burn all people of Jewish descent. 

People of all colors are equal in all ways by right of being children of God, and his children on this earth. But those who resent a subgroup of their nation because the nation's heritage has caused this subgroup to have greater needs that must be attended to… are not just racists, but also ignorant, undereducated, cultureless, overgrown infants who've forgotten history. 

More kindly: don't let the labels bother you. Here we are indeed all Americans. We are all God's creation. And in this country we desperately need to rectify generations of wrongs inflicted by our ancestors on fellow-citizens' ancestors. If we can do that with open hearts and souls and minds, there'll no longer be any need for NAACP, and no pseudo-justification for the Aryan Nation. 

White American, Caucasian-American… sure, why not? But most of these other groups consist of folks who – within your own lifetime and mine – could not get a seat at a lunch counter, let alone time under the spotlight to be told she's beautiful inside and out. Laws passed from the mid-1860s to the mid-1960s were enacted to give legal rights of equality to all our brothers and sisters in Christ, here in America. 

But you can't legislate people's hearts or impulses. This comes only through keeping the mind and eyes and heart open, the hands joined with them, and with your own in prayer. Resenting someone at the very least because s/he has greater needs describes the immature, and the bully. Spend a Sunday in a black church. Buy and watch "Roots" (and "Schindler's List" while you're at it). Borrow and read a copy of "Black Like Me" (I have one; have loaned it to an African-American friend.) Spend Saturday in a soup kitchen. 

We are called to compassion, mercy, love, understanding. Admittedly, racist attitudes make it hard for me to be compassionate. But remember what we were told about sheep and goats in Matthew 25; I can only hope to be told that "whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me". Nowhere does Jesus speak of color. 

And I closed out the email with a beautiful image of what might be called a more African-blooded Jesus. She did not comment on the picture in her response… possibly he's unrecognizable out of her personal context: 

Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 11:10 AM
Subject: dialogue 

I agree that we should help those less fortunate but, let's just say we have perhaps a different background. I'm second generation American. Both grandparents on both sides came over from Europe with only 1 suitcase and the determination to make a life for themselves and with grateful heart to have the opportunity to come to America. They disembarked at Liberty Island w/o knowing anyone here. Where they lived I don't know, but they had the grit and determination to find work, whatever that was offered for pennies, slept wherever a place was offered. 

They didn't have organizations that taught them English or helped them out with free food, free housing, they learned it from listening to those around them speak, by listening to the radio and by WANTING to learn the language. They also learned to save a few pennies at a time, and eventually my one grandfather opened his own bakery, and the other from ground up learned how to build homes. 

My one grandmother was a seamstress and she cleaned homes. I'm not an eloquent writer as you are AC, nor can I quote from the Bible or other material with ease. But what I do know is that my grandparents weren't looking for handouts, or someone to help them, they were glad to be in America and they took pride in themselves. They also survived the Depression and being grateful for the liberties that this land offered to them. All 6 sons served in the military and were proud to do so. 

I'm tried of these ungrateful masses that want us to bend over backwards to help them, where we have to have their language on signs and in printed material, because they don't want to learn OUR language yet want to reap the benefits MY family bleed for to keep this nation free. I'm tired of extending a helping hand and keeping quiet when they trash the values and liberties my family worked and bleed for. 

Having blown off most of my steam (and accepted the foolishness of my friend), I sent one more email: 

Sent: Friday, April 20, 2007 1:01 PM
Subject: RE: dialogue 

Mouse, my friend, I do agree with you on these latest points you make. You have every reason to be deeply proud of your grandparents, and your heritage. (Please keep in sight, though, that your grandparents were successes owing to hard, dedicated work and focus, and not to the color of their skin.) And I'm genuinely impressed with how they achieved their goals, becoming very much part of America, and the American dream (which is far from dead). 

And both our families have seen difficulties in melding into a new country and culture; my father survived the brutal and senseless carpet-bombing of his home-city in northern Germany ("senseless" because I don't understand how a beautiful cathedral – and tens of thousands of my dad's neighbors – were justifiable military targets), and the several years of horrific starvation afterward. His mother was strafed at by a low-flying British plane just for fun; his father spent years in prison after the war for the crime of commanding a ship that was defending his homeland; none of the family wanted anything to do with the gang of brutal racist ideologues who had taken over their land, and butchered their neighbors. 

I have no more patience for parasites than you do, Mouse. They leech off the hard work of your grandparents and my (maternal) grandparents. I don't care how much or how little pigmentation a parasite's skin carries; they have to contribute to society if they are able – and by "able" I give a broad definition, since we've both seen the commendable skill exhibited by our disabled (deaf, blind, wheelchair-bound, etc.) friends and colleagues. Laziness is not an excuse, nor is a shaky education. And if they are in this country illegally, they must face the consequences: deportation… but encouragement to come back legally, or face jail next time, and then deportation again. 

But this isn't the same issue as descendants of slaves associating together in civic organizations to counter the currents of oppression, denial, and racism that continue to exist in our country and society. The vast majority of these folks are not welfare-sucking fast-food-junkie mamas lining up to appear on Jerry Springer, or basketball-playing gangsters, or Nation-of-Islam fist-wavers still looking to take down The Man, or drug-dealers endangering the darkened street-corners. (The only crack addict I've ever known was a young white woman.) 

Those parasites are in all colors, all ethnicities, all heritages. But to lump all our African-American brothers and sisters in with them en masse because of color, and some bad apples… does our dignity, and our country, and our Christianity (or Judaism or Islam) a great disservice. 

I talked about this very issue with one of my black friends earlier today; he answered simply and beautifully, "It's all about the blood, man." (He's a single father whose wife died of cancer just a couple years ago; he's in the Navy and has served this country honorably for over a decade.) And indeed it is. Too much of it spilled, too much of it boiling for trivial reasons, too much of it ignored or forgotten… and plenty of it still dripping from the cross, poured forth for all people. 

"A hand up…not a handout." 

Regards,

AgingChild 

PS: Please don't let the areas where you and I differ politically, and other arenas, drive a wedge in here. I cherish your friendship, I admire your skills and dedication, and remain amazed at things you've endured and survived and moved beyond. This country – our very human species – thrives on dialog… and I appreciate that there's a patch of earth in the middle where we can meet: as dialoging humans, as friends, as fellow Christians on our knees together. 

PPS: I'm no Bible whiz, believe me! I might know a piece of a verse, but I have to look it up online through several searches and links to find the one I had in mind. I know I learn a lot in the process; I only hope it sinks in beyond this thick skull. 

This says most of where I stand on these issues. I'm sure I'll need to say it again at some point. Father Corapi points out that God placed limitations on human intelligence, but none on our stupidity. Amen.

 

A Little Closer to Home

As with the rest of this country, and points beyond, I've been listening to (NPR) and watching (Headline News, some NBC) the information on the horrendous Virginia Tech tragedy as the media and authorities continue discovering the background, and sharing with us the grief of a wounded community.

There are plenty of pages and sites and blogs out there chronicling the still-open, weeping wound at the heart of this body of students, faculty, and administration. I can hardly supplement them, nor expect any words of my own to rise above the sea of voices already speaking to all of us. I do ache sorely for the survivors – the wounded inside – and for those whose hearts are supporting these people.

Since my older daughter graduated from college less than two years ago, and my younger one will be going to college herself in barely a year and a half, I do see the two of them among these suffering young people. These are their contemporaries in the US, companions in FaceBook and MySpace, downloaders of the same music, wearers of the same clothing and fans of the same teams and movies and TV shows. Among them, too, are two nieces in college right now (one overseas).

Shelly, my older daughter, has a friend who's a grad student at Virginia Tech; she established early on that he had been nowhere near the scenes of the brutal attacks. Had anyone she knows been at any kind of risk, or suffering any great kind of wound of body or soul from this tragedy, she would have broken all Bonneville Flats records getting to Blacksburg just to hold them and weep with them.

Beyond this friend of hers, I found yesterday that a coworker-friend has a daughter there, who also (thank God) had been far away from the terrible carnage. This woman's eyes welled up in tears as she told me this yesterday – and tears not of an understandable relief, but rather of an ongoing worry.

This is a mother whose child had been too close to a particularly personal, brutal danger of death; I sensed she'll continue feeling powerless to protect her daughter until she and her husband make it down there this weekend (they'd made some event and hotel reservations months ago); it's all a matter of enduring the slow crawl of hours, and being buoyed by the regular reassurances of her girl's voice, until this mother and father can hold her in their arms again.

And I found out only this afternoon that one of my cousins, Geoffrey Swab, a PhD student, has been at Virginia Tech for a few years, and had been on campus during the horrific events on Monday. My sister forwarded me an email from him, and I responded directly to him, feeling largely powerless (though with far less an intensity than my haunted-looking coworker, of course!) to be of any help with what must be quite an inner burden.

Below are our emails, including the links he provided, as well as my response to him. I've edited very little, and have not changed his name (as I ordinarily do here for common-sense reasons of privacy and relative anonymity).

 

From: Jeff Swab
Sent: Wednesday, April 18, 2007 10:47 PM
To: Jeff Swab
Subject: VT Shootings Info - Update

Everyone,
(Please forward any of the past and future e-mails related to this to anyone as you see fit. Some e-mail addresses I don't have at home, and I didn't mean to leave anyone out. I've been using addresses I have on my home computer. Here's more info, in no particular order. I wasn't on campus Tuesday and for most of Wednesday, so I'm not trying to be news central.)

I went to campus early this evening, while it was still sunny out, and walked around the various memorials on the Drillfield for a couple hours. I took a bunch of pictures. I plan to post them soon, but I think I need to set up a Comcast site because my VT Filebox site is almost maxed-out with the other photos. For those of you in Blacksburg, if you haven't walked around the memorials and all the signs with notes, I recommend you do that. I'll let you know when I have the other photos up. I plan to go by AJ on Friday when the weather is better (if it rains Thursday). Here is the link to my first site if you didn't get my first e-mail: http://filebox.vt.edu/users/swab/ 

I've heard that some of the ENGE faculty knew some of the deceased, faculty and students. I haven't spoken with most of my students, but one told me on Tuesday that he had three friends who died.

VT's Collegiate Times posted some of my photos and captions on their "Hokies 4/16" memorial site. Here's the link to the photos page: http://hokies416.wordpress.com/tag/photography/

Wikipedia has info. You should be cautious when looking at Wikipedia stuff, so I'm not sure about the reliability of their info, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Tech_massacre

On the main page (so far) of the Hokies 4/16 site, there's a video under "Uncut Media Footage." I think its several clips a news station put together, and includes the cell phone video with the sounds of gunshots. The caption says you can hear 27 shots. Chilling, after realizing what was actually happening. http://hokies416.wordpress.com/

I think this drawing will make everyone cry. It shows the mascots of all the VA universities around the VT Hokie bird. http://www.lansingcartoons.com/images/hokies.JPG

As of this moment, I haven't seen the NBC evening news, but it is on-line. The shooter sent NBC a video manifesto and other things during the two hour gap between shootings. I'm sure it'll be on the Today Show in the morning. It's pretty disturbing to see this and related photos/screen captures on related sites.
http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=925bc281-ce20-439e-9682-8cc58066b2bf&f=00&fg=copy
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032619/
http://www.accesshollywood.com/news/ah4942.shtml?dst=rss|general_rss
- Jeff

At my desk I dropped everything I was doing and sent back to him:

Jeff:

My sincerest condolences!

I'd lost track of the fact that you're out of Virginia Tech now – and so I'm particularly relieved to know you weren't directly caught up in the horror and tragedy that was thrust onto your campus – and students, colleagues, and friends – and our nation's heart – on Monday.

I'd like to put your links up on my blog, if you're okay with that. My readership might be four people on a good day (that's counting myself at least twice), so admittedly the info will likely not reach much further. But pain shared even a little is pain softened just a bit.

Hang in there; if I can do anything (either from home or work), please don't hesitate to let me know.

Regards,

AgingChild

Jeff was amazingly quick in responding:

From: Jeff Swab
Sent: Thursday, April 19, 2007 4:11 PM
Subject: Re: VT Shootings Info - Update

AC,
Thanks for your note. I'll keep you up to date.

Feel free to post links, photos, or whatever. Once I get another/a better site up with as much photos and links as I can post, I'll let everyone know the address.

Regarding my status at VT, I came back here in Fall 2004 to finish my PhD. Three years later, I should finish shortly; hopefully within the next month, but surely no later than this summer. I looked for university jobs over the last few months, interviewed, received an offer, but still want to interview with one more place. I'm about to start the salary negotiation stage with the one university I'd like to work at, but I want to see what my chances are at the other university. I'll keep everyone up to date on my job status, too.

- Jeff

I recall now that this isn't the first time his immediate family was peripheral to terrible, senseless tragedy. Nearly twenty years ago – just before Christmas, 1988, PanAm Flight 103 was blown up over Scotland, taking the lives of nearly 200 people on the plane and on the ground.

The following is not much, nor on the personal scale of what's happened this week, but Jeff's mother was on the very last Flight 103 before that one, having boarded in Frankfurt. Her Christmas gifts to her own family, and nieces and nephews (including this one) were especially precious that year. 

 

A Real Leader Speaks Out

Here's a darned good, hot-headed piece that I ran into unexpectedly this afternoon; Legally I may be sticking my neck out by copying it here, so I'll be sure to include the copyright info. The essay is rather long, but very worth the read. 

In fact, it's an excerpt from Where Have All the Leaders Gone? By Lee Iacocca with Catherine Whitney, copyright © 2007 by Lee Iacocca. All rights reserved. (And right now – no fooling! I’m listening to the theme from "The Godfather" out of my music vault.): 

Had Enough? 

Am I the only guy in this country who's fed up with what's happening? Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We've got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we've got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can't even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, "Stay the course." 

Stay the course? You've got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned Titanic. I'll give you a sound bite: Throw the bums out! 

You might think I'm getting senile, that I've gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore. The President of the United States is given a free pass to ignore the Constitution, tap our phones, and lead us to war on a pack of lies. Congress responds to record deficits by passing a huge tax cut for the wealthy (thanks, but I don't need it). The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we're fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving pom-poms instead of asking hard questions. That's not the promise of America my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I've had enough. How about you? 

I'll go a step further. You can't call yourself a patriot if you're not outraged. This is a fight I'm ready and willing to have. 

My friends tell me to calm down. They say, "Lee, you're eighty-two years old. Leave the rage to the young people." I'd love to—as soon as I can pry them away from their iPods for five seconds and get them to pay attention. I'm going to speak up because it's my patriotic duty. I think people will listen to me. They say I have a reputation as a straight shooter. So I'll tell you how I see it, and it's not pretty, but at least it's real. I'm hoping to strike a nerve in those young folks who say they don't vote because they don't trust politicians to represent their interests. Hey, America, wake up. These guys work for us. 

Who Are These Guys, Anyway? 

Why are we in this mess? How did we end up with this crowd in Washington? Well, we voted for them—or at least some of us did. But I'll tell you what we didn't do. We didn't agree to suspend the Constitution. We didn't agree to stop asking questions or demanding answers. Some of us are sick and tired of people who call free speech treason. Where I come from that's a dictatorship, not a democracy. 

And don't tell me it's all the fault of right-wing Republicans or liberal Democrats. That's an intellectually lazy argument, and it's part of the reason we're in this stew. We're not just a nation of factions. We're a people. We share common principles and ideals. And we rise and fall together. 

Where are the voices of leaders who can inspire us to action and make us stand taller? What happened to the strong and resolute party of Lincoln? What happened to the courageous, populist party of FDR and Truman? There was a time in this country when the voices of great leaders lifted us up and made us want to do better. Where have all the leaders gone? 

The Test of a Leader 

I've never been Commander in Chief, but I've been a CEO. I understand a few things about leadership at the top. I've figured out nine points—not ten (I don't want people accusing me of thinking I'm Moses). I call them the "Nine Cs of Leadership." They're not fancy or complicated. Just clear, obvious qualities that every true leader should have. We should look at how the current administration stacks up. Like it or not, this crew is going to be around until January 2009. Maybe we can learn something before we go to the polls in 2008. Then let's be sure we use the leadership test to screen the candidates who say they want to run the country. It's up to us to choose wisely. 

So, here's my C list: 

A leader has to show CURIOSITY. He has to listen to people outside of the "Yes, sir" crowd in his inner circle. He has to read voraciously, because the world is a big, complicated place. George W. Bush brags about never reading a newspaper. "I just scan the headlines," he says. Am I hearing this right? He's the President of the United States and he never reads a newspaper? Thomas Jefferson once said, "Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate for a moment to prefer the latter." Bush disagrees. As long as he gets his daily hour in the gym, with Fox News piped through the sound system, he's ready to go. 

If a leader never steps outside his comfort zone to hear different ideas, he grows stale. If he doesn't put his beliefs to the test, how does he know he's right? The inability to listen is a form of arrogance. It means either you think you already know it all, or you just don't care. Before the 2006 election, George Bush made a big point of saying he didn't listen to the polls. Yeah, that's what they all say when the polls stink. But maybe he should have listened, because 70 percent of the people were saying he was on the wrong track. It took a "thumping" on election day to wake him up, but even then you got the feeling he wasn't listening so much as he was calculating how to do a better job of convincing everyone he was right. 

A leader has to be CREATIVE, go out on a limb, be willing to try something different. You know, think outside the box. George Bush prides himself on never changing, even as the world around him is spinning out of control. God forbid someone should accuse him of flip-flopping. There's a disturbingly messianic fervor to his certainty. Senator Joe Biden recalled a conversation he had with Bush a few months after our troops marched into Baghdad. Joe was in the Oval Office outlining his concerns to the President—the explosive mix of Shiite and Sunni, the disbanded Iraqi army, the problems securing the oil fields. "The President was serene," Joe recalled. "He told me he was sure that we were on the right course and that all would be well. 'Mr. President,' I finally said, 'how can you be so sure when you don't yet know all the facts?'" Bush then reached over and put a steadying hand on Joe's shoulder. "My instincts," he said. "My instincts." Joe was flabbergasted. He told Bush, "Mr. President, your instincts aren't good enough." Joe Biden sure didn't think the matter was settled. And, as we all know now, it wasn't. 

Leadership is all about managing change—whether you're leading a company or leading a country. Things change, and you get creative. You adapt. Maybe Bush was absent the day they covered that at Harvard Business School. 

A leader has to COMMUNICATE. I'm not talking about running off at the mouth or spouting sound bites. I'm talking about facing reality and telling the truth. Nobody in the current administration seems to know how to talk straight anymore. Instead, they spend most of their time trying to convince us that things are not really as bad as they seem. I don't know if it's denial or dishonesty, but it can start to drive you crazy after a while. Communication has to start with telling the truth, even when it's painful. The war in Iraq has been, among other things, a grand failure of communication. Bush is like the boy who didn't cry wolf when the wolf was at the door. After years of being told that all is well, even as the casualties and chaos mount, we've stopped listening to him. 

A leader has to be a person of CHARACTER. That means knowing the difference between right and wrong and having the guts to do the right thing. Abraham Lincoln once said, "If you want to test a man's character, give him power." George Bush has a lot of power. What does it say about his character? Bush has shown a willingness to take bold action on the world stage because he has the power, but he shows little regard for the grievous consequences. He has sent our troops (not to mention hundreds of thousands of innocent Iraqi citizens) to their deaths—for what? To build our oil reserves? To avenge his daddy because Saddam Hussein once tried to have him killed? To show his daddy he's tougher? The motivations behind the war in Iraq are questionable, and the execution of the war has been a disaster. A man of character does not ask a single soldier to die for a failed policy. 

A leader must have COURAGE. I'm talking about balls. (That even goes for female leaders.) Swagger isn't courage. Tough talk isn't courage. George Bush comes from a blue-blooded Connecticut family, but he likes to talk like a cowboy. You know, My gun is bigger than your gun. Courage in the twenty-first century doesn't mean posturing and bravado. Courage is a commitment to sit down at the negotiating table and talk. 

If you're a politician, courage means taking a position even when you know it will cost you votes. Bush can't even make a public appearance unless the audience has been handpicked and sanitized. He did a series of so-called town hall meetings last year, in auditoriums packed with his most devoted fans. The questions were all softballs. 

To be a leader you've got to have CONVICTION—a fire in your belly. You've got to have passion. You've got to really want to get something done. How do you measure fire in the belly? Bush has set the all-time record for number of vacation days taken by a U.S. President—four hundred and counting. He'd rather clear brush on his ranch than immerse himself in the business of governing. He even told an interviewer that the high point of his presidency so far was catching a seven-and-a-half-pound perch in his hand-stocked lake. 

It's no better on Capitol Hill. Congress was in session only ninety-seven days in 2006. That's eleven days less than the record set in 1948, when President Harry Truman coined the term do-nothing Congress. Most people would expect to be fired if they worked so little and had nothing to show for it. But Congress managed to find the time to vote itself a raise. Now, that's not leadership. 

A leader should have CHARISMA. I'm not talking about being flashy. Charisma is the quality that makes people want to follow you. It's the ability to inspire. People follow a leader because they trust him. That's my definition of charisma. Maybe George Bush is a great guy to hang out with at a barbecue or a ball game. But put him at a global summit where the future of our planet is at stake, and he doesn't look very presidential. Those frat-boy pranks and the kidding around he enjoys so much don't go over that well with world leaders. Just ask German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who received an unwelcome shoulder massage from our President at a G-8 Summit. When he came up behind her and started squeezing, I thought she was going to go right through the roof. 

A leader has to be COMPETENT. That seems obvious, doesn't it? You've got to know what you're doing. More important than that, you've got to surround yourself with people who know what they're doing. Bush brags about being our first MBA President. Does that make him competent? Well, let's see. Thanks to our first MBA President, we've got the largest deficit in history, Social Security is on life support, and we've run up a half-a-trillion-dollar price tag (so far) in Iraq. And that's just for starters. A leader has to be a problem solver, and the biggest problems we face as a nation seem to be on the back burner. 

You can't be a leader if you don't have COMMON SENSE. I call this Charlie Beacham's rule. When I was a young guy just starting out in the car business, one of my first jobs was as Ford's zone manager in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. My boss was a guy named Charlie Beacham, who was the East Coast regional manager. Charlie was a big Southerner, with a warm drawl, a huge smile, and a core of steel. Charlie used to tell me, "Remember, Lee, the only thing you've got going for you as a human being is your ability to reason and your common sense. If you don't know a dip of horseshit from a dip of vanilla ice cream, you'll never make it." George Bush doesn't have common sense. He just has a lot of sound bites. You know—Mr. they'll-welcome-us-as-liberators-no-child-left-behind-heck-of-a-job-Brownie-mission-accomplished Bush. 

Former President Bill Clinton once said, "I grew up in an alcoholic home. I spent half my childhood trying to get into the reality-based world—and I like it here." 

I think our current President should visit the real world once in a while. 

The Biggest C is Crisis 

Leaders are made, not born. Leadership is forged in times of crisis. It's easy to sit there with your feet up on the desk and talk theory. Or send someone else's kids off to war when you've never seen a battlefield yourself. It's another thing to lead when your world comes tumbling down. 

On September 11, 2001, we needed a strong leader more than any other time in our history. We needed a steady hand to guide us out of the ashes. Where was George Bush? He was reading a story about a pet goat to kids in Florida when he heard about the attacks. He kept sitting there for twenty minutes with a baffled look on his face. It's all on tape. You can see it for yourself. Then, instead of taking the quickest route back to Washington and immediately going on the air to reassure the panicked people of this country, he decided it wasn't safe to return to the White House. He basically went into hiding for the day—and he told Vice President Dick Cheney to stay put in his bunker. We were all frozen in front of our TVs, scared out of our wits, waiting for our leaders to tell us that we were going to be okay, and there was nobody home. It took Bush a couple of days to get his bearings and devise the right photo op at Ground Zero. 

That was George Bush's moment of truth, and he was paralyzed. And what did he do when he'd regained his composure? He led us down the road to Iraq—a road his own father had considered disastrous when he was President. But Bush didn't listen to Daddy. He listened to a higher father. He prides himself on being faith based, not reality based. If that doesn't scare the crap out of you, I don't know what will. 

A Hell of a Mess 

So here's where we stand. We're immersed in a bloody war with no plan for winning and no plan for leaving. We're running the biggest deficit in the history of the country. We're losing the manufacturing edge to Asia, while our once-great companies are getting slaughtered by health care costs. Gas prices are skyrocketing, and nobody in power has a coherent energy policy. Our schools are in trouble. Our borders are like sieves. The middle class is being squeezed every which way. These are times that cry out for leadership. 

But when you look around, you've got to ask: "Where have all the leaders gone?" Where are the curious, creative communicators? Where are the people of character, courage, conviction, competence, and common sense? I may be a sucker for alliteration, but I think you get the point. 

Name me a leader who has a better idea for homeland security than making us take off our shoes in airports and throw away our shampoo? We've spent billions of dollars building a huge new bureaucracy, and all we know how to do is react to things that have already happened. 

Name me one leader who emerged from the crisis of Hurricane Katrina. Congress has yet to spend a single day evaluating the response to the hurricane, or demanding accountability for the decisions that were made in the crucial hours after the storm. Everyone's hunkering down, fingers crossed, hoping it doesn't happen again. Now, that's just crazy. Storms happen. Deal with it. Make a plan. Figure out what you're going to do the next time. 

Name me an industry leader who is thinking creatively about how we can restore our competitive edge in manufacturing. Who would have believed that there could ever be a time when "the Big Three" referred to Japanese car companies? How did this happen—and more important, what are we going to do about it? 

Name me a government leader who can articulate a plan for paying down the debt, or solving the energy crisis, or managing the health care problem. The silence is deafening. But these are the crises that are eating away at our country and milking the middle class dry. 

I have news for the gang in Congress. We didn't elect you to sit on your asses and do nothing and remain silent while our democracy is being hijacked and our greatness is being replaced with mediocrity. What is everybody so afraid of? That some bobblehead on Fox News will call them a name? Give me a break. Why don't you guys show some spine for a change? 

Had Enough? 

Hey, I'm not trying to be the voice of gloom and doom here. I'm trying to light a fire. I'm speaking out because I have hope. I believe in America. In my lifetime I've had the privilege of living through some of America's greatest moments. I've also experienced some of our worst crises—the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the Kennedy assassination, the Vietnam War, the 1970s oil crisis, and the struggles of recent years culminating with 9/11. If I've learned one thing, it's this: You don't get anywhere by standing on the sidelines waiting for somebody else to take action. Whether it's building a better car or building a better future for our children, we all have a role to play. That's the challenge I'm raising in this book. It's a call to action for people who, like me, believe in America. It's not too late, but it's getting pretty close. So let's shake off the horseshit and go to work. Let's tell 'em all we've had enough. 

Man, I can only hope to be as clear-minded and touchy when I reach my own eighties. Brother! This one's also going to make my email circuit – conservative and liberal alike; I’m curious to see how the "right" (which is, heh-heh, generally way wrong) responds. I expect to hear nary a peep, or at best someone parroting one of the dismissive, ignorant, blinders-guided blowhards in that particular corral. Right, Mr. Imus? Don? Hello? Don? Now, where'd he get off

to?

Followup:

Asher Heimermann Apr 17, 2007

How old are you? Must be young…

AgingChild Apr 18, 2007

Hee-hee!

Shalom, Asher… and thanks for the compliment!

No, only young at heart; I left my teens long before you were born — though I try to remain in touch with what is going on in the lives of the young, since they are the future of our country and our world.

One thing I've tried to do since I started this blog back in January has been to keep the focus on issues, not on me — beyond my (and friends') stance on those issues. So I keep my age and name out of it, and change the names of friends and family when I mention them. The absence of lawsuits suggest that they appreciate my keeping their privacy.

I stand by my original aim/intent; this blog is not about me as such — I like being a catalyst, even at times a bit of a provoker or gadfly. But it's even more important to me to try to clear up some of the misunderstandings (and genuinely ludicrous ideas) out there.

Still, as no more than one person in an online horde almost beyond number, I can't expect that many people will notice what I have to say… so why should I possibly assume anyone to take an interest in who I am?

So I hope that those folks (including you) who stumble on this blog will find at least something in what I have to say across a wide range of topics gets them to think, no matter where they stand in relation to my own viewpoints.

Anyone really curious, and who reads enough of my postings (indicating a certain lack of something genuinely worthwhile to do), will likely find scattered throughout some details about my family and place of work, and some of my aims for my own future. But these are unimportant to the surfin' stranger, so I don't spotlight them. Plus it allows me some privacy, and underscores the focus on issue and substance, not ego.

Thanks again for the visit, my young friend; keep safe out there, and stop in any time!?

 

 

Rewriting Our Constitution: Another Slapper for Napper

After a week kicking back with the goodwife and bonnie wee bairn on Spring break, Spartacus plows into the midst of the foray, like an M-1 tank out of the Churchill Downs starting gate. (That would be a sight! "I can't believe it! I have never seen the horses run this fast!" Vrrooomm!!) 

Spartacus is good for reality checks; I can generally count on him to cut through any thickness of BS (including my own) and expose the sick digestion behind it. Thanks to years in the military, his nose is even keener than his eyes, and he almost never gets his boots dirty. He also doesn't BS, himself – usually; sometimes, though, courtesy/culture requires him to squat and produce something particularly redolent… in which case, you'll either swear you're smelling roses, or stand back and marvel at the end product. 

So I sent him a copy of Lewis Napper's suggested "New Preamble to the Constitution" that had served as the pivot-point for last Friday's posting here. I wanted his read, figuring he'd spot more effluvium than I'd caught on my own quick weekend rake-over. 

His response last night doesn't let us down. 

Thanks for sending this "new preamble" along. This is another one of those conservative screeds which cycle and recycle interminably through the netherworld of the of the forwarded e-mail. At first glance, many of the points seem reasonable and desirable, but it doesn't take too much effort to pierce the façade to see the bigoted assumptions which lie underneath--and that, I believe, is where the corrosive insidiousness of this sort of "thought" dwells. You have addressed a number of these issues point by point, and done a great job with it. 

(Thanks for the compliment, Sparks! I wasn't trying to impress you, though you know, or anybody else; I just couldn't sit still and leave that simplistic drivel un- responded-to.)  

I see no point in reiterating your comments, so I'll just limit my critique to a brief look at the most obvious examples of the underlying assumptions which inform the conservative viewpoint contained within. 

The most striking is the willfully ignorant, arrogant mindset of those accustomed to a position of power and privilege, a mindset which places the holder both apart from and above the rest of the world. Unreflective, smugly self-congratulatory and vindictive, this mindset finds "its own" blamelessly perfect and places all the ills of the world in the hands of those "less worthy". 

"Article X" is typical of this sort of thinking, promulgating the myth of the English speaking nation, and simultaneously denying at least 14,000 years of history. Before the white man there was the "native" American, then the Spaniards, the Dutch, the French, the English, and many other ethnic and national groups. English rose to predominance as a consequence of war and cultural domination, and its preeminence has endured as a result of those particular historical forces--it was neither first, nor God-given, nor preordained to dominate forever. Just because our nation's founders were better at slaughtering the competition doesn't mean we are now somehow immune to the forces of change. 

"Article XI" promulgates another myth--that this nation was founded on a belief in God. Actually, the founding fathers were far more influenced by Enlightenment thinkers such as John Locke. Yes, belief in God permeated the culture of the time, yet if one looks at the personal beliefs of many of the key founding fathers, one will discover their conception of God was closer to the Enlightenment's Deism--a viewpoint which was quite different from our contemporary conservative right's fundamentalist Christian god. 

"Article VI and VII", yes, you are absolutely not allowed to rob or commit crimes of violence upon other people, unless you are a member of the dominant culture and inflict those crimes upon the politically, socially and culturally disenfranchised members of "inferior" races, cultures or creeds. Phrases such as "manifest destiny" and "national interest" sanction the abandonment of all that is considered moral and just. 

If we are to live up to the ideals of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution; if we are to realize the true potential of America; if we are to endure as a vibrant nation; we need to take a painfully honest, objective look at ourselves, free from mindless, flag-waving hooplah and jingoistic self righteousness. Until we fully understand, accept and atone for the fallacies and flaws of this nation and our culture, we will never be able to attain true morality and justice. 

We have already endured almost 2 terms of the most ignominious yahoo to ever occupy the Oval Office. Electing the originator of this "preamble" to the office might well be the final straw...  

Preach on, brother! Speaking of rewriting the constitution, that's exactly what we've been sitting entirely too still throughout, these last six-plus insane years. Enough! Stand by for a further tirade, this one from none other than Lee Iacocca. I ran into it earlier today, and would like to put it up here a bit later today or tomorrow if possible. 

(And lest my other two readers think Sparklous and I are lock-steppers, I hope to post soon (with his permission) one of our debates on art. I mentioned this in passing, several paragraphs into my comments on Jesus-as-confection.)

 

Rachel, Weeping for Her Children

As I begin writing this – a minute past 9:11 PM (imagine that) – news is still coming in on the horrible mass-murder of students and at least one instructor at Virginia Tech. The tragedy absolutely sickens me, and I ache at the footage of these terrified young adults – most in age between my older (24) and younger (almost 17) daughters – running in utter terror. Or visualizing their last frightened moments, warmth and life-blood running out on the floor around them as they strain just to weep for parents and friends they'll see no longer, this side of eternity.

Okay, my conservative friends: defend your precious NRA now.

What's that you say, the students should each have been carrying their own gun to defend themselves? Riiiiight; campus also = alcohol, beer, other drugs, periodic mind-wrenching stress… and you want to arm the students? The NRA can go to hell… and very well might.

May God have mercy on us. What are the odds we'll all now throw our kids' (or our own) blood-rich video games and DVDs in the compactor? That we'll carry our wounded children who've survived to the steps of the Capitol and the Supreme Court and the White House and say, Enough? Pardon my callous phrase, but highly bloody unlikely.

Having come down among us and become human, God now can weep… and surely is doing so nonstop – Virginia Tech being one more rich red drop, too, among all the storms of slaughter tearing through every region of this wounded, reeling globe.

Virtually no one is prepared, at any given moment, to meet their maker… certainly not these young folks laughing, talking, taking notes and exams. But each of us has to be ready at a moment's notice – through storm, war, ill-health, careening motor vehicle, foolish accident, cold-hearted gun-wielder – to surrender our lives, like it or not. Are you ready? Am I?

This blunt, hard fact makes each moment precious (and shove the cliché!), each friend a rare and unique treasure, each child/brother/sister beyond price, beyond value, beyond any kind of taking for granted. Enjoy your minutes, seconds, hours, days with them – love them despite their faults and flaws; hug them unsolicitedly, and most especially in your heart even when they're out of the reach of your arms (or fast asleep beside you, or just down the hall).

David Gates once sang: "Is there someone you know, you're loving them so, but taking them all for granted? You may lose them someday; someone takes them away, and they don't hear the words you long to say. I would give anything I own – give up my life, my heart, my home; I would give everything I own just to have you once again; just to touch you once again."

He was singing of his recently-deceased father (and shortly after my own father died suddenly, I dedicated this song, and a handful of others, to him in my heart), but we must take to our own hearts and souls and daily focus the very real fact that the next time the door closes, the phone hangs up, the email vanishes, the IM ceases, the car drives off… we very well may not see a sweet someone again. Or they us.

I hope my family will be able to put Psalm 116:15 on our dad's gravestone; I wanted also to see it on my sister-in-law Lee's Korean memorial after she'd finally let the cancer take her. The verse says, more or less: "Too great a cost to God's heart is the death of those who love him." And he loves each one of us. I've wept beside cold, dead bodies of family and so watered their graves as well; I've keenly felt the agonizing wrench as my own heart is torn from me at word of someone's death.

Thank God we're at least not immured to the hurt and horror and breaking of hearts.

And God, through having become human, feels each of today's Virginia Tech deaths infinitely more clearly – for he formed their own now-cold, torn bodies; he created their very souls and loving, laughing hearts now stilled and silent. He knew each of them more closely than each of us knows our own brothers and sisters, parents, children, spouse, best friend… self. You think he doesn't notice? He doesn't hurt?

I once heard the line that each sin we commit drives the nails more deeply into Jesus' hands and feet, beats the thorns deeper into his head, thrusts the spear further into his dying heart. Figurative or not, it must give us pause. And B.B. King, bluesman extraordinaire, sang (with U2): "I was there when they crucified my Lord; I held the scabbard when the soldier drew his sword; I threw the dice when they pierced his side". And Jesus' blood always is spilled when another's life is taken.

We're told he notes the fall even of a lowly sparrow. I can hardly imagine his own inner wound at watching his children slaughtered, one by one, helplessly.

Lord, when will the blood stop flowing? When will the tears be dried?

 

Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Punned

There may well be a circle of Hell reserved for devout Catholics who deliberately tick off the hard-working priests… which would mean, then, that I can't assume I'll be fitted for halo and harp, once I "have shuffled off this mortal coil". Pitchfork, anyone? 

After Mass today, the Knights of Columbus (I’m Third Degree, but not currently active) hosted a coffee-and-donuts fellowship/social in the basement of the former Catholic school next door (since relocated). As a Eucharistic minister, I helped with some tidying-up and putting-away before heading downstairs to find Mother seated with Father Paul (one of our four priests) and a couple parishioners. 

Father and I greeted each other; Mother had her own donuts and coffee (I'd skipped on both; I minimize the sugar intake, and just don't like coffee). She leaned forward and confided to Father about me, "He doesn't believe in donuts." 

Knowing Father Paul's fondness for wordplay, I explained to him, "I prefer holey-er things on Sundays, Father." Mother nearly choked. 

"That was rather Swiss-cheesy of you," Father responded, a bit lamely. 

"I sorry," I answered contritely, "I should have let that comment ferment longer."