PRESIDENTIAL COLORS

Without any sense of being one of them, I’ve known people who claim to see auras around individuals. They have their own vocabulary regarding what each color means. And I’ve listened without agreeing or dissenting. It’s their experience, after all.

Still, I remember in the midst of one of New Hampshire’s first-in-the-nation presidential primaries when one of the hopefuls was moving through the office, along with his entourage. I couldn’t quite identify the face, but it was familiar. What struck me, intensely, though, the way he was surrounded by a black vapor.

And a black aura, as they said, was satanic.

Afterward, I realized it was Pat Robertson – the Reverend Pat Robertson.

I still feel a chill, recalling the incident, with no way of confirming how much is true or fallacious. But others have told me the same.

CHOOSING, IN THE END

As I said at the time, considering …

The matter of burn-outs, too. I have a long list, from those who’d been close. The ones who self-destructed at the brink of fame, largely through misplaced sexuality. One who achieved fame while still in high school, but then pursued a tangled life more than the fact. A common story, really. Perhaps the sex, like liquor, is the cover for much deeper wounds that need to be confronted and healed – but are instead allowed to fester.

We could also look at charisma in public figures, and how so often it comes by consuming in flames those who surround you. Witness Clinton and Lewinsky. (Which also raises questions about the kind of marriage the Clintons have agreed upon – obviously, not the usual white-picket fence variety but something far more Continental. Marriage blanc?)

Yes, there are reasons for fears. Actually, before I shift gears in a moment, I should recommend Camille Paglia’s controversial but seminal Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence From Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson, a great overview of art and literature and human sexuality in the course of Western Civilization. As she convincingly titles her chapter about Dickinson: “Amherst’s Madame de Sade.”

Then there’s the whole realm of intrigue about fetishes themselves – and even whether they remain more powerful left in the imagination than in reality. Columnist Bob Greene toured the Playboy Mansion before it was torn down and was disheartened to discover how small and dingy the indoor swimming pool was compared to all the photo layouts he had worshipped in his adolescence. Maybe the potential of doing X, Y, or Z has more hold than no longer being able to do the tattoo differently now that it’s there. Ditto so much else!

The paradox, actually, that choice doesn’t exist until you choose one – and rule out the others. Guess that comes into place here. You can believe in marriage in general, but in the end it’s going to be with a blonde, a brunette, or a redhead – or for her, possibly with a baldy. Go for them all, and you avoid going as deep into the experience, or so they say. From my experience, it gets tiring investing all the effort and time in what is essentially the early stages of a life journey – I’d much rather be much further along with a reliable companion. Hope this doesn’t sound moralizing, but I’ve been making the decision to move forward on some other fronts of my life the past few years rather than jumping into another relationship that pulls me away from my life’s direction. And, yes, there are many moments of weakness in that, when the loneliness can become paralyzing.

BEAT IT

Reflecting on the hippie movement and even trying to define just who was and wasn’t included has also had me thinking of the earlier bohemian movement known as the beats.

While I’m not about to get into a detailed description of beatnik identity, I will admit to being a big fan of many of the writers who fall under its label as well as a lot of the jazz and folk musicians and, especially, painters. Where I grew up, the word beatnik also conjured up the village of Yellow Springs and its Antioch College.

A few years ago – OK, a little longer than that – I sat down with great anticipation to delve into Ed Sanders’ fat volume titled Beatnik Glory. To my surprise, it was a depressing experience. I was left with the impression of one self-centered male artist after another expecting his girlfriend/mistress/wife to take care of him, earn an income, and raise their kids in her spare time so he could tend to his higher muse, which somehow often seemed to include drugs of one sort or another, at least until some of the women wised up to the reality they were being used or could do better. Then, of course, we were left with the males’ lament of being abandoned. That was hardly my idea of glory.

I suppose that also fits much of the stereotype of “hippie,” even though I saw some much different action. Many could be considered enterprising and/or hardworking, for one thing. Nor was it all a white-male thing, not by a long shot. For starters, the Pill and Feminism changed that equation, and there’s no turning back.

WASHINGTON, THE CITY

As I said at the time …

In the Northwest quadrant of the nation, they refer to it as “Dee Cee” just to keep from confusing it with its larger namesake. Not that that really helps, mind you. It’s more an expression of derision. After all, not even the wire services or television networks make that distinction. No, everywhere else it’s simply “Washington,” and let the Evergreen State go to hell.

But is that really fair? Of course not. The name of the place is District of Columbia, which is rather cumbersome. Georgetown has a nice ring to it, but unfortunately, it’s an old neighborhood that really should be its own city, for that matter; but the District tries to be a city-state in all the negative connotations of the concept.

Why, now, they’re even trying to become an independent state! The audacity!

Listen, now, if the residents of the nation’s capital want to be represented by congressmen, they can petition to do what’s fair. And that is to return to the State of Maryland what its people had so nobly ceded to the federal government way back when the Founding Fathers, in their great wisdom, decided to seat the nation’s capitol in a teeming swamp. Just look at a map and it’s obvious the portion in Maryland is neatly squared. Part of a diamond, actually. You can see how it would have squared on the Virginia side, if the bureaucrats hadn’t decided they didn’t need that land and gave it back, instead.

So the feds have already returned to Virginia what that commonwealth had thrown into the kitty. And look what they got as booty the Pentagon, Arlington National Cemetery, Dulles airport, and Wolf Trap.

Not only that, but let’s remember where loyalties have been placed. Remember how Virginia turned upon Washington, sent troops to destroy it so that was back in the Civil War.

Maryland, meanwhile, dutifully stood by the Union. Oh, I know, there were a few upstarts who sent their sons off to fight for the Confederacy, and, sure, the feds had to keep cannons trained on Baltimore City just in case. But by and large, Maryland stayed put. Isn’t it time for that debt to be paid?

So the nation gives the District of Columbia back to Maryland, which then picks up a larger congressional delegation. Maryland has been a much smaller state in numbers than it ought to be, considering its influence and geographical placement.

Oh, I know there are those who retort that we don’t want Washington, not with all of its poverty and related urban problems. Just think about what it will do to our welfare costs, for starters.

Well, wait a minute. What’s to keep us from taking the existing welfare kitty and just dividing it among more people? That seems generous enough to me, and besides, it won’t cost you and my a nickel more.

And as for the urban problems, why, people said the same thing about Baltimore before William Donald Schaefer and the Citizens (Sic) got their act together. No, this seems to be an ideal opportunity for the new governor to demonstrate what he really can do while nurturing even more political talent. Make him the Dean of American Urban Renaissance. And a hot governor, toj _  boot.

There are those who say the feds should keep an essential portion as the District of Columbia. Hey, I’m not against that. I mean, the folks in the White House ought to be able to figure out how to keep all those lawns mowed and the monuments polished  although after trying to locate books in the Library of Congress, which, as you all know, is hardly open these days, I begin to wonder.

My own preference would be to place all the greenery and white marble buildings in a National Park. You know, Foggy Bottom National Park. Or Capitol Hill National Park. Or the Federal Mall National Park. We all like National Parks a lot more than we do a District of Columbia, no?

But quibbling aside, the place needs a new name, if for no other reason than basic courtesy to the Evergreen State.

Now I’ve always been told that if you’re going to criticize, you ought to at least have a positive proposal up your sleeve. So here goes.

Columbia or even District of Columbia would be nice, except for that planned community of ponds and condos between Baltimore and the Potomac. So that possibility’s kaput.

William Donald Schaefer is a nice name. He was an exemplary mayor, before he went flaky as governor. What? You say it’s even longer than Washington, D.C.? Well, listen, not if you use the whole name for Washington, District of Columbia, it’s not. Besides, Americans have a penchant for shortening names, so next thing you know, it would be William, D.S., and that’s definitely shorter. And then William and finally Billy, and we all remember fondly what a relief he was to the White House.

But would a Republican administration allow that? Probably not.

So here it is: we rename the federal area national park or district George. That’s it. George. That Yuppie cluster of Georgetown can become Junior if it wants. We have more important matters at stake. George speaks with authority. It’s regal, too.

As for the Maryland part the real city we offer a complementary name. Something to honor the founding mothers, as well: Martha.

Now doesn’t Martha, Maryland, sound like a lovely place? I can’t think of anyplace that sounds more truly Americana.

I know it will create a few difficulties at the Washington Post, for starters. Which may be exactly why a Republican White House might buy into this proposal. Nobody’s going to be quoting the George and Martha, Washington, Maryland and Virginia Post any more. They might as the Federal Post, but we’ll see.

We’ll see.

SOJOURNING

One question facing many Quaker meetings is what to do about members who have moved away but want to retain membership. Their reasons may be sentimental or a family connection, the reality that they reside at a distance from the nearest Friends circle, or some discomfort they have regarding the meeting where they are. The fact remains that being Quaker requires face-to-face encounters with Friends.

Related to this is the concept of sojourning, with its sense in the Hebrew Bible of passing through a land on the way to another. Some of the references mention sojourning in Egypt; others speak of welcoming strangers who sojourn among you. Readers of Sojourners magazine see its application in our own time. In contemporary American society, sojourning is a widespread fact of life.

Quakers offer a form of affiliation known as a Sojourning Member, extended temporarily from the meeting where one is a member to a meeting where one is residing. I found myself using it formally in one of my relocations, where I didn’t sense full unity with (or from) the closest meetings and I held a job that was likely transitory in my career path. Informally, however, I found myself sojourning among Mennonites and, to a lesser degree, Brethren, who were theologically closer to my meeting of membership and my practice. Crucially, in a sojourning situation, one remains in communication with one’s “home” meeting. During this period, this meant attending its yearly meeting sessions and providing written responses to the sets of monthly queries.

Only after moving to New Hampshire and visiting among the nearest meetings did I feel clear to join with Dover, and even then there was a period before I felt free to transfer my certificate of membership. As it’s turned out, this is the land where I’ve settled – and my own turn to welcome sojourners amongst us.

MEMBERSHIP

In the first decades of the Quaker outbreak, any questions of membership soon pivoted on the reality of persecution. Friends wanted to make sure which people accused of being Quakers were actually part of the movement, unlike others who were hoping for an easy handout during their imprisonment. Membership meant providing aid and comfort to those who were suffering as a consequence of holding to the faith, rather than just anyone incarcerated for heinous actions.

Within a few decades however, the concept of “birthright” membership took hold, as the values of the faith were increasingly handed down within families that were living under Quaker discipline. Soon, there would be a hundred reasons to be read out of Meeting, but few guidelines for joining. In fairness, being disowned was not the same as being excommunicated from other denominations – and many of these individuals and families continued to attend Meeting, even if they were no longer part in running it.

Today we no longer live “under discipline,” and we have a fuzzy distinction between “members” and the active non-members we call “attenders.” Yes, there are formal steps into membership and the accompanying records, but it is a bit difficult to say just what one is joining. We have no creed to affirm, and no outward tests to pass. Sometimes it seems easier to say what we are not more than what we are. A Quaker lifestyle, perhaps with a little yoga and vegetarianism thrown in? Middle-class professional with a peace/justice political agenda? A fine philanthropy?

Still, the best metaphor I’ve come across is that of marriage. There, two people commit to an unknown future. It’s more than a common lifestyle and leads into many unanticipated turns. As they say, it’s a matter of “settling down,” with an array of mutual giving and support. To compare membership and marriage, however, simply points to deeper discussion – of both. But I think it puts us on the right track.

When I think of marriage, I see a lifetime commitment. Similarly, engaging with Friends is more than an annual renewable subscription. Maybe the basis of membership today comes when one no longer wants to stand at the rim, but wants to jump fully into the action.

SPEAKING OF TYRANNY

They warn of Big Government and of organized labor while they strive to strip the people’s powers in favor of Big Business. How conveniently they forget the wisdom of any balance of powers or the tyranny, especially, inherent in globalization as it’s emerging.

One World Government, they warn, while paving the way for One World Corporation. In effect, it’s all or none of us. Either way, it’s scary.

I learned to view political systems and society itself from the bottom-up. Jesus said something about it in Matthew chapters 5 through 7. Maybe it’s just a matter of viewing the bigger picture or remembering the promise of Jubilee (Leviticus 25). Ultimately, each of us equally responsible, and equally equipped, to work together. But there’s always a price to pay.

A LOGICAL CONCLUSION

As far back as three decades, when I was selling editorial-page columnists and cartoonists to newspapers, even openly liberal editors had become shy of picking up anything except conservative voices.

As a consequence, we’ve had no new voices to speak from the left, especially not in general syndication. Think about it.

Meanwhile, newspaper circulation has been plummeting.

Could it be those conservative voices are deadly dull? (At least, when they’re not shrill?)

Think about it.

A bird with only a right wing won’t fly far.

Yes, think about it.