Kinder, Gentler

I enjoy reading quotes from famous people (yep, I’m that nerd). In looking at some ideas on aging, I found the following from President George H. W. Bush, who went skydiving on his eightieth and ninetieth birthdays. “Get out and do something. If you don’t want to do a parachute jump, do something else, don’t just sit around watching TV, talking to it. Get out there and realize that at eighty years old, you’ve still got a life.” 

Back in the day, Bush caught some flack over banning broccoli from Air Force One. He was adamant: “I do not like broccoli. And I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I’m president of the United States, and I’m not going to eat any more broccoli.” You tell ‘em, George.

I was reminded of a phrase he used in his inaugural address in 1988, suggesting that among his goals was the achievement of a “kinder, gentler nation.” “America  is never wholly herself unless she is engaged in high moral principle. We as a people have such a purpose today. It is to make kinder the face of the nation and gentler the face of the world.” I’m not sure we were any kinder as a nation as a result of his words or his policies, but it was a nice sentiment. 

Today? I’d settle for a kinder, gentler comment section on social media. It’s nasty out there. A recent on-line post about the teen who died in the chimney in Port Clinton elicited a slew of conspiracy comments and cruel words about his parents. Ugly. 

Consider the experience of Meghan and Harry. The impact of the tabloids and the paparazzi has been multiplied by the internet, and hundreds of thousands of people have weighed in on their recent decision to seek a more normal life for their family. Not a lot of empathy being extended to the man who was only twelve years old when he lost his mum in such a terrible way. 

It’s frustrating to see our former Vice President mocked for his struggle with stuttering. Captain “Sully” Sullenberger, the pilot who landed his plane on the Hudson River in 2009, chose to respond with an op-ed. He wrote of his own stuttering, and how difficult it was as a child. He had a message for children affected by a “culture of cruelty.” He said: “You are fine just as you are. You can do any job you dream of when you grow up.” He continued: “A speech disorder is a lot easier to treat than a character defect. You become a true leader, not because of how you speak, but because of what you have to say – and the challenges you have overcome to help others.”

One more example. Nicholas Kristof, a New York Times columnist, and his wife, Cheryl WuDunn, wrote “Tightrope: Americans Reaching for Hope.” Described as a deeply personal plea, it’s told through the lives of real Americans, “to address the crisis in working-class America, while focusing on solutions to mend half a century of government failure.” Kristof recently shared an essay from the book , telling of the children from his childhood school bus 6 in Yamhill, Oregon. Following their stories into adulthood, they all too often ended in what Kristof termed “deaths of despair,” accident, suicide, addiction. 

While Kristof’s column focused on systemic issues at play in the decline faced by working class Americans, many responses pointed to the primacy of personal responsibility. One noted, “This article describes ruined, pitiful people. The main problem they have is weakness of character.”

Life is difficult. Our children make tragic choices. Celebrities face immense scrutiny. Those with challenges of many types face the mockery of some and the scorn and blame of others. 

President Bush was able to ban broccoli, but kindness and gentleness cannot be legislated. Yet still I find hope in Kristof’s description of an alternative social narrative: “infused with empathy and a morality of grace that is less about pointing fingers and more about offering helping hands.” Kinder and gentler or a culture of cruelty? The choice awaits us every day.

What's Up With That?

Oprah Winfrey tells of “moments when I sit down to talk to somebody and they say things that make me look at life or a situation in a completely different way.” She describes these “aha! moments” as a “lightbulb, bing bing bing” experience, when the little hairs on your arms stand up. I’ve had a few of those moments myself, but in recent days I’ve had  a different reaction: “What’s up with that?”

When renewing our car registration, I noticed an increased fee for hybrid ($100) and electric ($200) cars. What’s up with that? Shouldn’t the choice to use less fossil fuel be rewarded, not punished? Apparently not in Ohio. The legislators need to fix the roads, and since these environmentally responsible cars use less fuel, they pay less tax per mile traveled. Rep. Tom Brinkman explained: “You know – it’s a user fee. You want to use the road, you gotta pay for it.”

It was seventy degrees in Ohio last Saturday – in the middle of January. What’s up with that? If the sun had been shining, it would have been a glorious day. This week, NASA announced that 2019 was the second-hottest year since they’ve been tracking temperature, while the past decade was the hottest to date. Yet a spring-like day in January feels like a gift, not a symptom of climate change.

Also here in Ohio, the President of the United States said that the Speaker of the House wasn’t “operating with a full deck,” and called the chair of the House Intelligence Committee a “pencil neck” who buys “the smallest shirt collar you can get.” Imagine that! Wall Street Journal contributor Joseph Tartakovsky suggests the political insult has long been a part of our history. H.L. Mencken said Warren Harding’s speech “reminds me of a string of wet sponges . . . it is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.” Senator John Randolph described one opponent: “Like a rotten mackerel by moonlight, he shines and stinks.”  Poetic.

What’s up with the political insult? Tartakovsky explains: “Its purpose is to stain character, which, in the great personality contests that are elections, is the candidate’s most precious asset.” I do like Ronald Reagan’s style, when he told Walter Mondale on the debate stage: “I will not make age an issue of this campaign. I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent’s youth and inexperience.” 

On a sweeter note, I got an e-mail encouraging me to purchase a special brand of skinny chocolate claiming to be the holy grail of weight loss. Given that I have a stash of chocolate in my desk drawer, that’s good news, right? Somehow, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is – and would likely fail my taste test.

My granddaughters and I had free samples at Sam’s Club last week – they voted for the Hot Pockets and I thought the chilled raspberry coated in dark chocolate was the bomb (forget the skinny holy grail). We sure love our free samples. This week in Richmond, Virginia, protesters gathered for and against gun control on Monday, and according to an NRA tweet, they were giving away one thousand “30 Round PMAGs” (a high capacity magazine) to members who showed up to fight the proposed gun ban. What’s up with that?

Here’s another addition to my “what’s up with that?” list. Lumi is a new product by Pampers that integrates a video monitor and a sensor  attached to a baby’s nappy so you can receive a text when it’s time for a diaper change. Only $349.00 for the starter kit. In their advertising for Lumi, baby Anna’s mother provides a testimonial: “I like having the data at my fingertips.” No comment needed.

What’s up with the quest for a holy grail, the character assassination of the political insult, the lure of free samples and the search for a more efficient diaper? My deep contemplation of these pressing issues revealed an “aha! moment.” The details of life may change, but the underlying truth is expressed in the book of Ecclesiastes. “There is no new thing under the sun.” At least until tomorrow’s news cycle.

put a Nickel in the Drum

“Salvation Army, Salvation Army, put a nickel in the drum, save another drunken bum . . . put a nickel in the drum and you’ll be saved.” These words, sung lustily from time to time on the high school band bus as we traveled to the weekly football games, provide a perspective on charitable giving that may have been good for a snicker in the teen culture of the early 70s, but causes me to shudder in 2020.

Where do I start? The image comes from the practice of The Salvation Army to hold open air meetings, where the faithful gathered on urban street corners to play a hymn or two, preach the gospel, and invite listeners to kneel for prayer at the bass drum. Contributions were either collected in a tambourine or placed on that same drum. 

Times have changed since that little ditty was composed. We seldom see a Salvation Army quartet and an overturned drum on the street corner, much to the chagrin of those who long for the good old days. We’ve definitely come to a better understanding of addiction that changes our vocabulary from “drunken bum” to “a person struggling with addiction.” And theologically, most people of a religious persuasion recognize that a nickel (or a thousand dollar bill) will not purchase an experience of religious conversion for anyone, ourselves included. 

What hasn’t changed is the willingness of people to “put a nickel in the drum,” or, as more recently experienced, in the Christmas kettle, with the expectation that through the ministry of The Salvation Army, someone who is struggling with addiction, loneliness, or poverty might find sobriety, companionship and hope.

It is a remarkable thing, this willingness of people to give money to help someone they don’t know. The same phenomena takes place during a United Way campaign, as virtual strangers pledge funds to support the work of the partner agencies who serve people in their community. Workplace giving is prominent, where factory workers, bank tellers, teachers, union members, and others gladly say, “Sure, take $2 a week out of my pay so someone in my community will have someplace to turn when they’re needing help.” 

Need assistance when receiving a cancer diagnosis? A United Way partner agency stands ready to help. Experiencing addiction, homelessness, domestic violence, disaster, mental health challenges, or life with wayward teenagers? United Way partner agencies open their doors wide each day to help Ashlanders face the most difficult of life issues with care and compassion. 

This year’s United Way campaign, with the theme “Rockstars and Legends,” is just about history. It’s currently raised 94.25% of its goal, needing $48,843 to fund its commitment to the fifteen partner agencies. If every person in Ashland County put $1.00 (twenty nickels) “in the drum” of United Way this week, the goal would be met. 

Twice a year, local NPR stations (National Public Radio) host a fund drive on the air, a limited number of days when donations are requested toward their financial goal. I have good intentions about making a pledge, but since I only listen to the station in the car, by the time I get home, the old adage is true: “Out of sight, out of mind.” Yet in the final days of December, the message was something like this: “Even though our fund drive is over (which I interpreted as if you were a slacker and didn’t get around to donating), it’s not too late to give.”

While we’re still breathing, it’s never too late to give. And technically, even once we stop breathing, our giving can continue – McDonald’s heiress Joan Kroc is proof of that, to Ashland’s benefit.

The language surrounding charitable giving is more nuanced since my high school band bus days, but the need for those dollars has not disappeared. There’s still time to put a nickel in the drum of United Way, The Salvation Army, or other charitable choices. It’s doubtful that nickel will save you, nor will it make you a rockstar or legend, but it can help to save a neighbor from homelessness, hunger, and despair. That’s an investment I’m glad to make all year long.

Predictions for the New Year

We’ve made it to 2020! We’ve survived the space between Christmas and New Year’s Day, when we don’t know what day it is, who we are, or what we’re supposed to be doing. Many of us have gathered with family from far and wide, eaten too much, and gotten some much needed rest. Even the babies in our family managed to sleep in during these in-between days.

In the last few days of the year, many have paused to remember those whose lives have been snuffed out in 2019. Some were famous, such as Carroll Spinney (Big Bird), Toni Morrison (a favorite novelist), journalist Cokie Roberts, Green Bay Packer quarterback Bart Starr, faith writer Rachel Held Evans and Congressman Elijah Cummings. Others were closer to home– a beloved grandmother, an influential pastor, a child taken by a tragic accident, a baby born too soon. We mourn lives lived to the fullest, we grieve those gone too soon.

2019 has also given us much joy. Social media has captured the celebration of weddings and graduations, and those first pictures of the most beautiful baby in the world. We’ve been blessed with two of those grandbabies in 2019, and are ever grateful. 

In the last days of the year, we’ve also read the annual “most influential stories of 2019” in the T-G, with economic highlights, sporting achievements, and a tragic fire topping the list. Glad there were no serial murders in Ashland this year. Together we lament the closing of Jake’s Steakhouse and Mitchell’s Orchard, cheer the gradual revitalization of downtown Ashland, and are still talking about how fun the Christmas parade was this year.

So what about 2020? As a long-ago fan of the Jetsons and their view of the future from the perspective of the 1960s, I’ve always enjoyed the articles that predict what the future will look like. No personal space travel yet, but we can talk to our watches and they talk back to us. Here are some of my own predictions about the year to come, in no particular order.

Gym memberships will see a surge in January, but will be back to normal levels by March.

No Ohio team will win the Super Bowl, the World Series, or the NBA Championship in 2020. Hope does spring eternal, but this isOhio, y’all.

The Articles of Impeachment will be sent to the Senate sooner or later. There will be a presidential election in 2020, and it will be ugly. 

In 2020, the delightful and determined Elizabeth Holiday will start kindergarten. The charming Henry Kyle will learn to walk, and a few months later, so will our sweet Emma Belle. They will both learn to say “Nana.”

Somewhere in the U.S. in this new year, there will be a school shooting, a church shooting, a mall shooting. Many will offer thoughts and prayers, and political leaders will echo the words of Governor Mike DeWine after the Dayton shooting: “We must do something. And that is exactly what we are going to do.” Sob. 

Moving to a more personal level, author Anne Lamott predicts, “Maybe some of us will eat a bit less, and walk a bit more, and make sure to wear pants that do not hurt our thighs or our feelings.” Sounds like a plan to me.

At the start of a new year, I also wonder what I can do to make a difference in our world? I can’t stop the shootings, slow down climate change, or coach the Browns. Samantha Power, former American ambassador to the United Nations, helps me: “Shrink the change. Even when you can’t come up with a big solution, there may well be something, however modest, you can do.” She continues, “If you add up all those small steps that can be taken, that’s where you start to make real inroads.” Columnist Connie Schultz understands: “We can’t fix everything that is wrong with the world, but we can improve the world in our immediate orbit.” 

“Not all of us can do great things,” Mother Teresa recognized. “But we can do small things with great love.” Seems like a good place to begin in 2020. Happy New Year.