FRAGILE IN THE TRANSITIONS [T, 11-5-24]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Musings of An Old Man—FRAGILE IN THE TRANSITIONS [T, 11-5-24]

 

I started to get up off the sofa and thought, “This would be a good time to go do something stupid.”

My ability range for doing stupid stuff is rather narrow anymore. It’s mostly, “This would be a good time to go eat something bad for me.” When I was younger, though, I had a wide range of stupidity possibilities. “This would be a good time to tell the bishop what’s wrong with him,” followed by “This would be a good time to apply for a PhD program…” Once you start stupid stuff, it gains momentum.

I hardly ever considered the stupidity possibilities, though, except when I was in transition, from one place to another, from one activity to another, from one…

Helen had a yoga instructor who said, “We are fragile in the transitions.” She meant when moving from one yoga position to another, of course, but I find that it is true emotionally and spiritually, too. My brain and body are always ready to do stupid stuff, but the urge to stupidity is greatest in the transitions.

I don’t understand that. I can be perfectly happy, staid in place, writing a mundane poem or an irrelevant column, with no hint of stupidity rising, but then…yes, it’s usually my bladder that requires me to get up, and I think, “Well, as long as I’m up anyway, what stupid thing can I do?”

It’s never, “Well, as long as I’m up, I could take out the garbage.” No, it’s “As long as I’m up, I could go look at new cars and surprise Helen with a Morris Minor or 2025 Bel Air that looks like the 1956 model.” [1]

I think that we have learned from Trump’s Jan. 6 riot at the Capitol that even as a nation, we are fragile in the transitions. As long as I’m up here, what stupid thing can I do?

Actually, for me, at least, I think it comes from trying to follow Jesus. Have you ever noticed that it was in the transitions that the disciples did stupid stuff? They would be doing fine, taking the roof off somebody’s house so they could lower a sick person down to Jesus to heal them, but when they got out on the road, that’s when the stupidity came out. “Hey, Jesus, can I get a special place in your Kingdom, even though I’m no more deserving than anybody else?” Then, of course, “You don’t deserve a special place; you’re stupid.” “No, you are!” That’s the surest way not to get what you want.

Well, I guess the point is: Be careful in the transitions. What I do in the transitions, when that stupidity urge comes, I think about going out to the road beside our house, where Jesus is passing by, and I get in behind. The way is straight and narrow, so there are no transitions.

John Robert McFarland

1] Blame this on old friend, Jim Bortell.

ADVISOR TO THE PRESIDENT…ALMOST? [Sun, 11-3-24]

BEYOND WINTER: The Irrelevant Memories of an Old Man—ADVISOR TO THE PRESIDENT…ALMOST? [Sun, 11-3-24]

 

I had totally forgotten about the time I decided to become an advisor to Bobby Kennedy in his run for the presidency in 1968, until the strange life of Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. has appeared to remind me of a memory placed long ago in the back of my non-worm-eaten brain—the time I decided to be the Protestant/youth advisor to the middle-aged Catholic running for president, Robert F. Kennedy, Sr.

I never intended to be part of the Civil Rights movement, or any other movement. I just wanted to get an education and a pretty wife and have people think I was a good preacher. And be a decent Christian.

The movements of history, though, like time and tide, “wait for no man.” When you are confronted with a moral issue, you have to take a stance. I became a part of the Civil Rights movement just one decision at a time, trying to be a decent Christian, trying to do the right thing at that particular moment. 

The same thing happened with my opposition to the Viet Nam war. I was a campus minister in the days of Viet Nam. My kids were going off to war. I first supported the war, and then learned that our own government was lying to us, that the war was unwinnable, that we were sending young men off to die because, as both Johnson and Nixon said, “I don’t intend to be the first president to lose a war.” It was madness.

There were challengers, though, who said we could do better. When presidential aspirant Eugene McCarthy was asked if he could end the war if he were president, he replied, “Anyone who is president can end the war.” I liked “Clean Gene,” but I thought Bobby Kennedy had a better chance of winning the presidency, and thus of ending the war. I decided to back him.

Not just back him. Work for him. Not just as a volunteer. On his staff.

I thought he needed someone on staff who could advise the Boston Catholic how to deal with Midwest Protestants. Moreover, he needed someone who knew how to communicate with young people. Who better than a Methodist campus minister?

I was afraid to tell anyone. I knew they would ridicule me for thinking I could get onto RFK’s staff, even make contact with him. But I was determined. We needed to end that war. Bobby could do it. I could help him.

So I laid out my plan. I made lists. I collected resources. I put them in folders. I looked over his current staff. I started writing my pitch, why he needed me. I had no idea how to make the necessarily deep connection, but I was sure I could figure it out. I was committed. We had to end that war! Now, how would I explain this to my wife?

Then…RFK was assassinated. It made no difference to me personally. My life would go on as it had been. But…what about Bob? His family? The nation? All those boys—American and Vietnamese--yet to die in the tunnels and ride paddies?

I still have all those ideas I was going to use to help RFK. It’s a different kind of war now, but the nation is just as divided as it was then. I wonder if my ideas could be adjusted to work for a Baptist instead of a Catholic? I wonder how I’m going to explain this to my wife

John Robert McFarland

 

STUPID VOTING [F, 11-1-24]

BEYOND WINTER: Sort Of Relevant Musings of An Old Man—STUPID VOTING [F, 11-1-24]

 

When I learned that the Potter & Brumfield electric relays factory in the county seat was hiring, I went immediately. I really needed a job. There were only two requirements: you had to be 18, and you had to pass the entrance exam.

I had not graduated high school, but they didn’t care about that; I was 18. And I aced the exam. I was hired on the spot.

The quality engineer who gave the exams was impressed by my score. That pleased me, but surprised me, because the exam seemed quite easy. No dates to remember, no equations to prove, no predicate nominatives to place or match case.

Mr. Pohl explained that the exam wasn’t about such things. “We are trying to see if you can think,” he said. “More than half of those who take the exam fail it. They can’t think.”

In civics class, our teachers extolled the high voter turnout we had in our county. But as I heard Mr. Pohl, I realized that more than half of those voters couldn’t think well enough to do a job on a factory line. But there is no test for voting. Those folks have been voting for 70 years. Those still alive will vote again in November. All without being able to think.

My friend and former pastor, Paul Mallory, used to remind me that half of all voters are below average. They are highly motivated to vote, because they want to show the above-average people that their below-average stupidity is just as good as above-average intelligence.

There was a TV commercial a few years ago featuring the founding fathers working on the Constitution, replete with powdered wigs and knee stockings. I can’t remember what product they were touting, but I do remember that as Jefferson argued for the right of all citizens to vote, one of the others incredulously said, “You mean even the stupid ones?”

Well, yes. But if you are not stupid, be sure to vote, for the founding fathers had you in mind…way back then.

John Robert McFarland