OVERLOAD AT THE TOP

Every election cycle gets me pondering the limitations of any individual’s ability to make well-informed, reasonable decisions. Even with a platonic ideal, in the absence of the give-and-take combat of partisan politics, an executive can handle only so much. Or as Henry Kissinger discovered as Secretary of State, after years in academia, it was much more like being an NFL quarterback on Sunday afternoon than a divine ruler on Olympus. Is this any way to get wise results? How many crises can the White House manage at any one time, even before considering the routine operations?

Here, I lean toward the genius of the Founding Fathers when they established our compound republic, and urge divesting many of the functions to more appropriately sized levels – giving all due respect to localities and states.

But it’s not just government. In any hierarchy, information is distorted as it moves upward through the ranks. You tell the boss what he or she wants to hear. Or it gets distorted as they hear only what they find fits their views best. Rare is the CEO who has learned to circumvent this.

Again, my preference is for flattening the hierarchy and spreading the work out through a multiplicity of smaller enterprises.

Call me old-fashioned if you will. Or just plain human. Or maybe just an idealistic visionary after all.

RIGHT-BRAIN ACTION FROM THE LEFT

Back during the presidential election cycle, I remarked on the failure of the left to apply right-brain thinking to the message. Fortunately, as the season unfolded, a few savvy managers got it right.

Now, as things calm down, I should note one fine practitioner of the weaving the emotional and reasoned lines together: Charles P. Pierce, with his daily blog for Esquire. Yes, he’s acerbic, caustic, witty, righteous, and very well informed, driving news home – major stories most newspapers are tiptoeing around, if they mention them at all. The Tea Party seems to think it has a lock on criticizing Washington, without realizing how much of the current mess comes from their side of the aisle. Now for the corrective blast. And how!

In a short space, Pierce delivers all the content of a good lecture with none of the preachy sermon. He’s delightfully entertaining and uplifting, for the good-hearted believers, or highly annoying, for the philistines and heathens.

Now, back to cranking out bumper stickers.

Amen and hallelujah.

THE CRAVING AND RELEASE

As I said at the time: It’s power. As well as status.

There, we’ve said it. The crux of the matter. Power is always dangerous and needs to be curbed, or at least channeled. Dynamite. Gasoline. (No smoking around the pumps, ma’am.) Nuclear fission. Story of all Greek mythology, for that matter. With sex, it’s something that everyone – or nearly everything – has, in theory at least. In reality, well, we could start with one great mystery: why we are attracted to certain people but not to others. And then there are all of those mysteries involving male/female differences, as well as the daughter-father bond and the son-mother bond and the natural growth of struggling into freedom – the classic Oedipus Construction and its parallel Electra Construction. And I want what you won’t give me. Rape. Or don’t want your advances. Frigid. Or what you now threaten to take away from me. Story in the newspaper every day. Bang, bang. Especially when the balancing mechanisms break down – the commonly shared values, the commitment, spirituality, whatever. Or the out and out growing apart.

Even the religious foundations of sexuality and marriage itself can be quite different. In the Catholic and Episcopal mode, it’s procreation, pure and simple. You’ve seen the papal edicts. The best man and groomsmen in the ceremony as a vestige of forcibly seizing the bride. The ring itself as an emblem of possession. Which is why we have neither in traditional Quaker ceremony. In contrast, in the Quaker and Congregationalist/Unitarian strands, marriage embodies the sense of helpmeet or soul-mate in which Adam and Eve were created as suitable opposites for each other: deep companionship, with full equality and mutuality (no, eating the fruit is not Eve’s or the Serpent’s fault, no matter how Paul of Tarsus interprets the matter – it’s the beginning of human awareness and freedom, actually; and if God hadn’t wanted them to eat it, he wouldn’t have put it in the middle of the garden in the first place or told them, in the second, not to touch it!). (A point one of my fifteen-year-old Religious Education students argued convincingly. Kids can see through some of this stuff.) And then there’s the Song of Songs, or Song of Solomon; look up the Marcia Falk translation and explanatory notes – passion, overriding all convention.

As a sister (younger? older?) asks, as we turn the phrase, “Are you a slut?” I suppose a lot of it has to do with one’s perspective – long-term, or short? Immediate gratification, or something in which every experience builds into a sustained, shared history? Put another way, will the Other still be there when your raw physical beauty isn’t? When your health has you in a wheelchair and needing the committed partner? Or when the care of children requires joint sacrifices? The fear, of course, is that once the pleasure’s gone, so is that other person. And we both know that we have down days – bad hair or lack of it, whatever – often for long periods. Period.

My last girlfriend also used to accuse me of having been promiscuous. Of course, when you add up the numbers and divide them over the years – plus all the time in between – it really becomes rather monkish. As I said, it’s perspective. And what the others’ values come out as.

Conflicts, conflicts.

If others express their fears about your adventures, there are many reasons. For one thing, your feelings are on the line. Often your deepest feelings and desires and needs. Out of which can too easily arise the How On Earth Did It Come To This you write of. The epithet of “bastard” itself. The protectiveness of keeping predators away from Mine. Hence, all of the taboos. It’s not always “moralizing,” especially if you watch the matrons at poolside closely. And the rules aren’t always written by a patriarchy, but by the matriarchs. They know a good thing when they have it. Queen Bee, Queen Bee, one per hive. One of the most difficult things about trying to date women my own age, in fact, was that most of the available ones are so bitter. There’s no lightness in their dancing, either – and I link those two. Maybe it was that the ones who can make a relationship function successfully were in faithful marriages.

* * *

How much of this, fortunately, now stands as ancient history!

GET OUT OF THE WAY

In newspaper reporting, you try to observe an event as invisibly as you can without intruding into its action. Yes, you may need to interview individuals, but you quote what they say without inserting yourself into the dialogue.

But the appearance of television cameras and their glaring illumination, especially, tips the equation. Too often, they’re not neutrally observing a natural event but rather turning all of the participants into actors and the scene into a stage. Who knows what’s real as a consequence?

I remember one reporter coming back from a county commission meeting and saying that the commissioners had already voted before the TV crew showed up and pressured them for a revote. The second time around, the tally was different.

So just what was the valid decision? The moral questions multiply.

Equally offensive to me is the canned shot of the TV “reporter” standing in front of the courthouse or floodwaters or crash or fire and talking into the microphone and camera. Look closely and you see the story is more about “we were here” than what really happened. That’s not news, friends – it’s hype, usually accompanied by editorializing rather than just the straight facts.

Here, I had enough trouble about reporters doing interviews over the telephone, rather than face to face. You miss much when you’re not a direct observer, believe me.

So what do we do now about Skype?

DRESSING FOR LOGISTICS

It didn’t take very long for my philosophy class in college to realize our professor was wearing the same outfit all the time – suit coat, tie, pants, and Hush Puppies. We wondered about the white shirt, his socks, and underwear, and presumed he was changing those. The second semester, he did the same thing, but with a different outfit. (This was the same teacher whose final the previous year had a single question, “Why?” – which led most students to write profusely in their blue books, hoping to somehow hit the answer by accident. A succinct “Why not?” turned out to be the B+ answer, while “Because” earned the A.) Maybe he was just too lost in thought to be concerned about attire. On the other hand, some in the class repeated rumors that he had a girlfriend in Sweden and was spending most of his income on long-distance bills. (Why not?)

When I’m grabbing the same set of clothes for, say, the third day in a row while getting ready to dash off to the office, that recollection flits through my mind. Sometimes the thought connects with the concept of Plain dress, too, and how we’ve made things more complicated by switching to the less tightly defined “simplicity.” For old Quakers, the question of “What will I wear today?” was much easier than it is for us.

Of course, Plain dress was also a uniform – a symbol of belonging, and belonging to a cause, at that. There are all kinds of uniforms, and not just for the military – mail carriers, retail clerks, priests, mechanics, utility workers, many of them today wearing embossed T-shirts. You know what to expect from them.

There are many reasons I’m not suggesting we return to Plain dress. For one thing, such a move would have to express a unified community; otherwise, we would just appear to be quirky along the lines of my philosophy prof. In addition, putting the focus on the outward appearance ignores what exists within. Still, such a move would be a public rejection of the fashion industry. And it was said that Friends who had taken up Plain dress became more aware of individuals at the fringes of society – and more responsive to their needs.

As for the philosophy prof, I guess the biggest lesson he taught me was the importance of questions in the logic of life. The dressing’s purely secondary.

DASHES DON’T SHOUT

100_9040The Cocheco Arts and Technology Academy, a public charter high school, has begun its new school year in a fresh location after moving from the Washington Street mill where it had resided the past five years. In its location on the top floor, CATA looked more like a lively arts colony than a high school, but the lively part had a downside, I suppose, especially when it came to music.

One of the things I’ll miss is the quirky fire door that had been painted with a wonderfully succinct set of English grammar and syntax rules. In fact, I can think of a number of people who think they’re writers (and have even been paid for their efforts) who could definitely benefit by taking these to heart.

There are parts I love, such as the “helicopter” concept for commas that close a phrase. Although I’ve had to live with newspaper style for much of my career, I’ve long preferred to use the closing comma in a series of three or more items, and from the door I’ve learned the technical term is the Oxford Comma. My!

But I will dispute the claim that dashes shout. I think they breathe. Exclamation points shout.

100_9032

The Punctuation Door to the tower stairway stood next to the Holy Quotes.
The Punctuation Door to the tower stairway stood next to the Holy Quotes.

Mentioning this to one of the students on moving day, I was told she had penciled the rules on the door and then other students painted them. Since their brushes ranged from thin to thick and their abilities varied, the lettering is hardly uniform. I think it adds to the charm.

In the meantime, thanks to Vikki for getting this started. Now the whole world gets to see it.

GODDESSES OF AN EARLIER ERA

As I said at the time, the attempt to gain a clearer picture of my high school and college years took an interesting turn as I considered (let’s call her) AA, and an attraction that never went beyond a few words and our shared hours in Mrs. Hopkins’ horrid English class. AA was, I believe, the one who knew what a choral descant was, perhaps indicating she was Episcopalian. What I remember – and the yearbooks confirm – was that she was squeaky clean, of the pure skin and bright eyes variety. Even Ivory Soap spotless.

I would have also added “virginal,” though I could speculate there was a hidden passionate side – she was, after all, on the elite marching squad, and ambitious enough to hold several offices. Some of the portraits hint at some mischief or playfulness behind those serious eyes and smile. Yet she did not show up on the homecoming or prom courts. I seem to sense she may have already had a serious boyfriend.

Now I find, as AB, a nurse, possibly divorced and looking nothing like the girl I remember, she’s still in that locale and even contributed to a Republican Senate campaign. It’s amazing what you can discover online, if you find the right thread, even without coughing over any money.

This has me thinking again of the missed opportunities and how, maybe, they were essential to my eventual pathway.

I never spoke much to her or to BB or to CC because I felt they were way out of my league. Even DD, whom I did ask out a couple of times, to no avail – usually too late. Now I see how our youth pastor’s comments about another may have actually been an attempt to bridge something on her part, but again I felt all too incompetent and impoverished and minor-minor league constricted. (Yet, as a golden boy in my mother’s eyes, only beauty would do as my consort, at least in my own expectations.)

The swirl around EE, of course, was a situation in which one person finds himself or herself unwitting having a small but pivotal role in a much larger drama. I wonder what I’d say to her now. (That would be an interesting letter to compose: note to myself.) My mother’s values, my own ambitions, my conflicted religious situation, and the raging hormones all tangled.

Suppose I had somehow found myself going steady with any of them? (Much less the twins or FF or GG – which brings up the younger woman syndrome.) Would I have felt more content, to continue studies at Wright State, work at the Journal Herald, settle in Dayton forever? Would I have been Republican, Methodist, or … ? How small that all looks now!

On the other hand, the hippie movement was around the corner. HH (now there, along with JJ, were older women – a grade or two ahead – I could have gone for!) did move, according to the Web, in that direction.

At the time, I thought the girls all possessed a secret wisdom far beyond what we wretched guys – well, for the most part: a few seemed to be on a privileged inside track – could muster. As if they would only show mercy! As if that was what I was reading in their coy glances. Heavens!

OVERLAPPING OR UNCONNECTED CIRCLES

My daughters are quite fond of Venn diagrams as a way of analyzing situations, and lately it’s had me thinking about the Society of Friends, in an abstract sort of way. And from there, it’s had me thinking about a lot of other applications.

Let me explain.

To make a Venn diagram, you begin by drawing a circle to represent something. For example, if we’re looking at a group of people, we could draw a circle to represent families with children living at home. If a large proportion of the members fits this category, we’ll make a relatively large circle. Next we can draw another circle to represent households with children living elsewhere – say off at college or raising children of their own. There might be some overlap to show families who fit both categories, as well as no overlap for others. But a third circle of members who have no children at all would stand entirely apart. Adding another qualifier, such as “members living in Dover” or “households living under the poverty level,” would have us draw a circle that would spread over sections of the other three, and its size would reflect the amount of dual identity; often, we would shade that swath to help it stand out graphically. The emerging diagram begins to give us new perspectives on what had originally been defined by the single matter of membership, and we can begin to adjust our programs and mission to better match its needs.

*    *   *

Ideally, I’d say, Friends have assumed that the local Quaker meeting, as a community of faith, would emerge as a set of concentric rings, like the ripples radiating from a single pebble tossed in a still pond. At the heart of it would be our individual faith experience, surrounded by meeting for worship, meeting for the conduct of business, family, the body of Friends as Monthly, Quarterly, and Yearly Meeting, community, occupation, and larger society. In that, we would be in a state of essential unity or even Gospel Order.

In reality, of course, we’re much more like a handful of stones tossed out, and each of us creates a different set of ripples. They overlap for us, because we’re radiating on the same pond we call Dover Meeting, at least where I am. Conceptually, though, not all of our circles are radiating out across the water. Imagine instead that some are angled out into the air – our jobs or classrooms, for instance, or families where one spouse is active in Meeting and the other is not. This is certainly a much more complex model, leaving us many possibilities for being disconnected with the rest of the surface.

Looking at Meeting itself, and expecting the Meeting for Worship and/or the Meeting for Worship for the Conduct of Business to be our central focus, we might expect to see a host of other circles all converging on that point, to create something resembling a flower. Looking at attendance at Monthly Meeting, however, I would suggest some other model would be more accurate, and maybe some of the circles do not touch each other at all. Indeed, some people observing Friends Meetings have suggested there are circles with no overlap: Christocentric versus universalist, or social activists versus spiritual monastics – or whatever. What moves and motivates one Friend may leave another untouched. Still, where exclusivity is perceived, I would urge us to look closer, to find elements where overlap might actually exist and where the remainder of one circle might energize and support the remainder of another. I believe there we will find the key to a revitalized sense of urgency among Friends, and the ability to shake the earth for miles around.

*    *   *

The reality is that none of us identify ourselves by a single category. We apply many, and some are more important than others. For example, I’m a Quaker and also male, married, stepdad, retired from full-time employment, a published poet and novelist, a so-so baritone in a very fine chorus, a contradancer … well, it becomes a very long list and in my daily actions, some of my interests overlap with those of others I encounter.

My wife and I love those parties that mix three or four circles of very interesting people and then seeing the interaction that ensues. When it works, everyone seems to come away enlivened and enriched.

In a way, that’s part of what I’ve been trying to do with the Red Barn. Yes, I do try to rotate the entries among my 11 categories each month or so – American Affairs, Arts and Letters, Home and Garden, Newspaper Traditions, Personal Journey, Poems, Poetry Footnotes, Personal Journey, Postcards, Quaker Practice, and What’s New. But in reality, there’s a lot of overlap. The Home and Garden projects often stimulate the Poetry, while Newspaper Traditions often reflect American Affairs, yet Arts and Letters may emerge from my Personal Journey or Quaker Practice. And Postcards, meanwhile, reflects whatever shows up in the camera. Hopefully, each reader, initially attracted to one category, may soon be following the others.

See how our circles overlap? Or, for that matter, even enlarge.

GOING PUBLIC

Writers and artists who work alone may know the feeling. It might even fit composers, playwrights, and screenwriters. A piece looks quite different in manuscript or the studio than it does in a small-press journal or small gallery. It looks different, again, in galley proofs for correction or an exhibition. And it’s altogether different in full-length book publication or a major museum.

We could even consider all of the varied emotions that accompany these stages.

When the published novel’s in my hand, I’m not even sure I’d recognize its having any commonality with the manuscript or drafts all those steps earlier.

I suspect the experience for performers – especially those in groups – goes another direction. The rehearsals build a teamwork that’s carried forward to an audience. Could there even be occasions when the finished result is less satisfactory than some points beforehand?

We talk about a creative process, but I’m left acknowledging there are many.