Tag: Life

BACK FROM SESSIONS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The 353rd annual sessions of New England Yearly Meeting of Friends were held last week, and it was wonderful to be among the hundreds of Quakers of all ages who gathered at Bryant University in Rhode Island for the six-day gathering.

Since the regional yearly meetings are the top level of the Quaker system of church government, their decisions affect all of their constituent local congregations – in New England, that’s about 100, ranging from rural or small to large and urban. And since our group decisions are reached without ever taking a vote, resolving our differences when it comes to joint action can be quite an exercise. (We had several of those.)

One of the issues we did unite on was to publicly renounce what’s known as the Doctrine of Discovery, which originated in papal pronouncements that lands held by native non-Christian peoples could be claimed by Christians – a perspective that was later extended into American law. Native peoples of New England told us our support is important in their attempts to change current policies for more just outcomes, and we agreed to continue working with them on this concern.

The Bible half-hours each morning were led by Michael Birkel of Earlham College who used quotations from early Quakers to show how scriptural language shaped their thinking and tender communications to each other. What emerged was an awareness of the depth and intimacy of their experiences in times of great turmoil, even before they speak to us as well. His loving and often humorous examination of the texts and their wider meanings earns him my nomination to be the leading Quaker rabbi, if we acknowledged such.

There’s much more to yearly meeting than the sessions each summer. Throughout the year, committees meet and work, special programs are presented, youth retreats (especially) are conducted, and local meetings are visited.

But it’s always delightful to be among so many kindred souls, reconnecting with people I’ve known for decades and establishing new friendships, too. We get to meet and know visiting Friends from around the world – this time including Bolivians, Cubans, and Kenyans, who add much to our worship and global awareness. I suspect that much of the most important business occurs in informal one-on-one conversations over meals, while just sitting along the pathways through the campus, or during late nights in the dorm lounges. We’re also surrounded by children and teens, many of them zooming around on scooters or bicycles in their free time. It’s all high-energy.

Parting is always sweet sorrow, but we’re already anticipating next year’s sessions, which will be held in Vermont.

PAINFUL NEUTRALITY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

At the least, the pursuit of objectivity has meant that news reporters and editors cannot engage in political activities. Even community-wide charity drives become suspect. I learned early on I couldn’t wear political buttons or put a bumper sticker on the car, much less participate in a protest line. The ethics policy at the Kansas City Star was famed for telling its personnel that the only organization where they could vote was their church. (And, presumably, public elections, although some journalists have argued even that would taint their professionalism.) To be honest, even though we Quakers never take a vote in our business sessions, I felt some relief to know that my church was taking public stands in my stead.

It’s not that we don’t have values or don’t believe that reforms are needed. Rather, it’s an awareness that to report all sides fairly, we need to have some distance from participating in the battle itself. We have to be able to report shortcomings even in the places where we feel most sympathetic.

Still, I’d like those who accuse journalists of bias to try living under such strictures themselves. Maybe they’d even see a bigger picture.

INTO THE WARP

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

With some time to kill before rehearsal and a desire to buy a magnifying glass as a gag in an upcoming birthday present, I darted into a CVS pharmacy, where I promptly became disoriented. Everything in this one was backwards: the main checkout counters were at the back of the store, by the municipal parking lot, while the druggists were in a corner at the front, away from the doors along the main street. I had no idea where to begin looking.

No doubt in reaction to my perplexed state, a young clerk approached me and asked if she could help. It wasn’t her fault I was now thoroughly bewildered. Standing before me was my First Love, from nearly 50 years earlier and hundreds of miles to the west. Right height and shape, right hair, right voice, same quirkiness, even the same intensely blue eyes. Somehow she hadn’t aged, while I, well, time tells. In some ways, this was time travel of the worst sort.

How could I say anything that would make sense? She’d never be able to answer the questions I would have posed her.

WINDY CITY PERSPECTIVE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

In 1922, the Chicago Tribune conducted an international architectural competition for the design of its new headquarters. The World’s Greatest Newspaper, as it proclaimed itself, could have erected a landmark modernistic tower envisioned by Walter Gropius and Adolf Meyer or an impractical giant lectern styled by Adolf Loos but instead went with a neo-Gothic bullet by Howells and Hood.

By the mid-‘80s, when I was employed by the paper’s syndication service, the grimy gray building was surrounded by many much newer buildings that resembled the glassy proposal the publisher had rejected. Maybe that says everything, in the end.

By then, though, the newsroom had definitely changed. Gone were the typewriters, long replaced by computer terminals and keyboards. Tours were guided through glass-shrouded catwalks overhead, where they could look down on journalists at work. I remember being fascinated to recognize there were four semi-circular copy-desks below me, each one ringed by copy-editors and a single “slotman” at the center, just as it had been when I started. I’d heard, too, that none of those seats were ever vacant long; this was a paper edited ‘round the clock for its many editions. But then I noticed that the editors on one of the rims were doing nothing except writing and editing photo captions. Nothing else for the entire shift. I’m sorry, but I’m used to far more variety when I’m editing. How did they ever stay awake?

Since we were really there to see two of our cartoonists, we headed for a set of elevators serving floors six through 32. And we were headed to the top, Jeff MacNelly’s suite, which sat just under the floor of microwave gear.

With his panoramic windows between flying buttresses looking out over Lake Michigan (you couldn’t tell where the water ended and the sky began that day), I wondered how he ever got any work done on his editorial cartoons or his Shoe comic strip.

One floor down, which Dick Locher commanded, was quite different. With its tiny diamond-shaped windows, the suite wrapped around the elevator and service shafts felt more like sitting inside a gargoyle.

At that point, one of my colleagues noticed a framed Pulitzer Prize on the wall. “That’s all it is? A piece of paper?”

Locher, who drew the Dick Tracy strip in addition to his editorial cartoons, had won two.

On the couch, MacNelly, who’d just won his third Pulitzer, grinned. “Yup, that’s about it. A piece of paper.”

WHERE, O WHERE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

“Hey, you know your portrait’s hanging at Harvard?”

“Eh?” I replied, wondering what century the canvas would have evoked.

“No, it was the ‘60s. You were younger, of course.” And while a residence hall on the Yard was mentioned, I was too awash in wonder to catch the details. (Darn!)

Still, it stirs up the what-if musings.

At the time, Ivy League was completely outside my range of possibilities, beginning with finances.

Even so, here we were, one town over, a half-century later.

If only …

Or if they only knew …

OBJECTIVITY, FOR STARTERS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Journalism students used to be told of a reporter writing a weather story in a newsroom. Even though he can look out the window to see that it’s raining, he turns to the guy at the next desk, asks him to look out the window, and then quotes him in the report. It’s probably apocryphal, but it does reflect the kind of training no-nonsense reporters had in turning to sources, rather than their personal observations.

That’s why you see so many direct quotations in a news dispatch.

What you learn along the way is that what you see may not be the full story, much less the real account.

For all I know, it could have been glass falling from an explosion or sawdust, as they do in theater productions.

At least this way, there’s someone to blame if it’s wrong.

SINGING WHERE WE LIVE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Like all of the arts, poetry has a long tradition of speaking for the marginalized and disenfranchised. Just look at a lot of the Psalms (even those attributed to David the King!) or Isaiah, for starters. That, as well as the court poets throughout antiquity. Or Wallace Stevens, the insurance executive. We sing where we live.

As for the review, remember: being a writer requires a thick skin when it comes to criticism – and, as Gertie Stein said, every writer wants to be told how good he is, how good he is, how good he is. Now, let’s look at the depth of this “criticism”: adjectives like dumbest, dumb, dumb … how many times? To say “I didn’t like this” is not criticism, O Wondrous Publisher, but the lowest form of consumerism.

Much of the most powerful art we find unlikable in our initial encounters – only through repeated exposure and exploration do we finally begin to see it open in its fullness and awe, and to appreciate its scope. (Not that everything that’s unlikable is great art, or even art, mind you – just that candy in and of itself can leave one seriously malnourished.) So don’t invite this cad to the opera, Shakespeare or Shaw, the symphony, art museum, jazz, a wine-tasting or brewpub, wilderness camping/backpacking, or your next edition. I once counseled a photographer I know in the Pacific Northwest to go beyond the obvious, superficial beauty there and to instead capture the real nature of the landscape.

Last time we talked, he said his work had taken on a breathtaking intensity, but that none of the galleries would touch it – because they didn’t believe it was real! It isn’t what the owners and collectors think they see in the outdoors – it’s the reality, in its naked majesty, instead. That’s what art is about! Or should be.

Or, as Gary Snyder once argued, all poetry is nature poetry – even if the closest the poet comes to nature is his old lady’s queynt.

Another thing to remember when it comes to publishing: not everyone will like everything. Back when Doonesbury was the “hot” comic strip, one newspaper was astonished to find in a survey that the strip was both its most popular – and the most hated! Please the latter subscribers and you might not be selling copies to the former; but please the former, and the latter will still be onboard, to get whatever it is that they like. Or. if a restaurant removed every item that any of its clientele found objectionable, there would be no menu. Even McDonald’s has detractors.

Of course you’re going to tinker with each edition! Every poem is different, too – or should be. (I could name some writers who are repeating the same formula they struck upon ten or twenty years ago, but that’s not for me – Eskimo artists, I’ve heard, will do a subject only once and then move on to another. Good model, methinks, although the “once” might mean a work within a series of sixty to a hundred poems – kind of like a novel, I guess.)

Maybe you’ll even have a stretch where the personal life and upheaval and discovery and adventures quiet down, and you feel it’s time to do a mostly-poetry issue – go for that, too!

Right now, what’s singing where I live is the mockingbird. Ever so gloriously, with a song that’s rarely the same.

FREQUENCY OF ATTENDANCE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Every week? Every other week? Once a month? How often do you come to worship?

It’s a question that’s nagged at me ever since participating in my first Friends community. There I noticed a number of people who seemed to come every other week, meaning in practice we had two largely separate circles of people. A few years earlier, as part of a monastic practice, I had experienced what group mediation twice every day could do, how the energy would build up and the experience, deepen.

Early Quakers were much more insistent on attendance, including the Midweek Meeting. The Amish, on the other hand, gather every other week, using the off week to visit at a distance. In fairness, on many weekends we do have multiple activities scheduled, and three or four hours in the meetinghouse on Sunday is not uncommon.

Still, we must wonder. Are our lives so busy we haven’t enough time for worship? Or do we need a Sabbath from the labors of Meeting? My views have changed over the years. Yes, Sunday often becomes a time of catching up. But miss worship for a few weeks straight, and getting back into the rhythm and focus of Meeting becomes difficult – it’s easy to slip away. What I do know, often more in theory than practice, is the importance of Sabbath rest – especially the kind that helps us rediscover family and joyous playfulness. Something that’s quite distinct from leisure. Or even thank you and please come again. “There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from his own work.” Let that remain our invitation and refreshment.

THE HUMAN IMPRINT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

In the old days, a newspaper or magazine often had a personal imprint. The publication took on the publisher’s or top editor’s vision, and a certain tone and range of interests followed. We can look at the legendary names – McCormack, Hearst, Pulitzer, Scotty Reston’s New York Times, Ben Bradlee’s Washington Post, the Bingham family’s Louisville Courier-Journal, Tom Winship’s Boston Globe, even Bill Loeb’s Union Leader – and then realize it’s not something you see in the corporate journalism of today, especially where top editors are out the door in a year. Can you name anyone at the helm today?

As for the big-name stars of network and cable news/entertainment, well, let’s just say they’re pale imposters. There’s something to be said for knowing the ropes of a community and its people. Of having roots and depth – and the responsibility of recognition when they’re out in public.

KEEP AN EYE FOR THE TIDE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Just about every time we take I-95 south to Boston, a particular experience comes to my mind while crossing the Merrimack River. I look out from the bridge, hoping to see whether the tide’s in or out.

But that’s not how it was when I first moved to New England.

On one warm evening, while driving with a girlfriend along the river just beyond the bend we can see from the bridge, I found a place to pull over. The water was low, with many steppingstones exposed. We couldn’t resist walking way out from shore and back again, but when we turned around, all of the stones where we’d been were now submerged.

It was a close call. As I now know.