Know Thyself

"γνῶθι σεαυτόν"

So goes the old, old, old Greek aphorism--roughly translated it means "know thyself".  As I have gotten older I am not so sure I have gotten to know myself better, but I do know I sure have asked a heck of a lot more questions--especially when it comes to the changes in my body as I have gotten older.  I am sure that they are not specific questions that only pertain to me and my body, but that they are universal questions that have spewed from the lips of countless others over the generations.  Questions like why have I accumulated hair on parts of my body where I do not want hair?  I've often wondered why my rose dripped when it was cold outside and everything else in sight that drips is frozen.  You know the sorts of questions I am talking about.  I am sure other inquiring minds, like mine, want to know!

 Lets begin with hair.  In my late teens I started to lose my hair and have endure a ton of abuse from family and friends over the years about my baldness.  For the most part it does not bother me--after all, God only made so many perfect heads and on the rest God placed hair.  From my late teens onward I have always worn caps--usually baseball caps--as it beats to have sunburn on top of the ol' noggin.  Because of this it is a rare picture that one sees me in without a cap.  Say what you will . . . but it has raised a few questions about where the hair all went.  My theory is that it moved from the head to other parts of my body--parts like my back, ears, nose, and rear end!  The following picture illustrates my point--but I swear none of the pictures are of me.  None are wearing a cap!

As solid as I thought my theory was, it was wrong.  According to an article by Catherine Price in the March 4th issue of Parade Magazine she answers the question: Why do men get more hair in some places and less in others as they get older?  She writes that this is the "George Costanza effect" and that it is a common sign of aging.  Basically it is caused by dihydrotestosterone (or DHT), a sex hormone to which some men are genetically predisposed to become sensitive.  When that sensitivity develops, the hormone often causes the hair to shrink and follicles elsewhere, like on the back or in the ears or nasal passages, to be come stimulated.  Who would thought that the hair in my ears, nose, and back had anything to do with sex!  All I know is it has changed my life--I no longer go shirtless, and yes, I have received countless words of appreciation for that from others.  I pluck my ears for now, but watch out if I ever learn to braid hair!  And trim the errant hairs that stray from the nose--I figure it beats growing a moustache.  I think I liked my theory better . . . it is not as gross.

Ms. Price also answered the question as to why my nose drips when it is a minus 20 degrees below zero outside and every other liquid within a hundred miles is frozen solid.  She explains that the nose helps perform a kind of climate control by heating and humidifying the air that is inhaled so that it better matches the moist, warm conditions inside of the lungs.  Glands in the nose produce secretions that add moisture, and blood vessels in your nose dilate to warm the incoming air, acting like miniature radiators.  When breathing in super-frigid air, the phenomena is amplified.  Apparently the colder it gets the more it drips.  I just figured that my my skull cracked and I was losing a little brain juice, as if I have plenty to spare in my old age!  But now I know and it isn't pretty.  Luckily I don't have errant nose hairs that slow the process down!

Let talk nails--finger and toe nails.  I wish my nails looked as good as the ones in the picture above, but they don't.  Nothing close.  Mine could probably be used for one of those before and after posters for a good/bad pedicure.  Despite how ugly my nails might look I do take care of them by trimming them as needed.  Like a lot of people I always wondered why I was always trimming my finger nails so often while the toe nails crept along at a snail's pace and were only trimmed occasionally.  Again, Ms. Price answers the question--and, by the way, it is not the obvious answer of one grows faster than the other.  According to her sources it is because the hands are more active than the feet and it is the body's attempt to repair whichever parts are undergoing the most "trauma"--from activities like banging on the keyboard of the computer.  I guess I could learn to keyboard with my toes, but that sounds yucky.

Thank goodness for Q-Tips!  If it were not for Q-Tips a lot of us older folks wouldn't be able to hear.  But have you ever wondered about ear wax--what it is and why we need it?  Price writes that it is made up of moisturizing oils, infection-fighting enzymes, and dead skin.  Not quite the stuff of candles!  Basically it is useless, but a normal function of the body.  Experts say that we should just leave it alone and let it run its course.  Using Q-Tips is a no-no--like packing a canon.  Instead, to clean the ears one should just gently tug on the lobes while showering allowing the water to wash the was away.  It dawned on me if I let my ear hair grow I could use the ear wax to comb it back--a duck tail for the ears!  Fashionable somewhere I bet.

I always knew that the human body was a fascinating mystery.  After reading the article in Parade Magazine and learning more about the answers to these mysteries, I think it is best to leave those questions unanswered and as mysteries.  I am sure most of you agree.  In the meantime I guess I will accept the fact that hair will grow where I don't want it, my nose will drip, my nails will continue to grow, and ear wax will be produced.  It is all a natural part of getting older.  So in the meantime I will keep clothes on my body, wear caps, wear gloves and shoes, and use nose and ear plugs so that I do not expose the rest of the world to these wondrous sights.  Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and I don't think I want to know myself that well.

So Many Colors--Why Do We Only See One?

But the little boy said...
There are so many colors in the rainbow
So many colors in the morning sun
So many colors in the flower and I see every one

In Harry Chapin's song, Flowers are Red, he tells the story of a little boy's first day of school.  The little guy is so excited that he begins to color a picture using all of his crayons.  He puts colors all over the paper.  When the teacher sees what the child is doing she asks him what he is coloring--to which he answers, "Flowers!"  The teacher then proceeds to tell the little guy that it is not time for coloring, and besides, "flowers are red and leaves are green--that's the way that is has always been."  But the little boy says otherwise.  The teacher calls him sassy and reiterates that "flowers are red, leaves are green".  Nope, says the little guy.  The teacher places him the corner and tells him he can stay there until he changes his mind because "flowers are red and leaves are green."

A corner is no place for a little kid especially when everyone in the classroom is getting to experience all the excitement of the first day of school.  It eventually wears the little guy down until he sadly admits to the teacher that "flowers are red, green leaves are green--there's no need to see flowers any other way than the way they always have been seen."  The kid ends up towing the line and buying into the teacher's power trip.  

Eventually the kid's family moves to another town and school.  The teacher in the little guy's new school tells the children that painting should be fun--use all the colors!  But the little guy draws the flowers red, the leaves green in neat little rows.  When asked why he his drawing that way he responds to the teacher:  "Flowers are red, green leaves are green--there's no need to see flowers any other way than the way they always have been seen."

Recently it was pointed out to me by someone close to me that I was a privilege person--especially here in the United States--because I was male and white.  Simply put, this person stated that the culture of the United States pretty much revolved around this group as it had all the power and influence--they call the shots and run everything.  She was right . . . we white people, especially us males, have all the power.  We are the majority--we are the rich--and that equates to power to dictate to our culture what is valuable and important.  There are not a whole lot of colors in our world view--"flowers are red, leaves are green and that is the way that it has always been."

This was brought home for me with the Academy Awards this past Sunday.  Off the top of my head I can only remember two presenters who were of another race other than white--Jennifer Lopez and Chris Rock.  I might be wrong about this, but that is basically the only two I remember.  Lopez was not presenting because she was of the Latin race, but because she was pretty and apparently had a dress malfunction.  Rock, well he delivered a fairly biting monologue pointing out the disparity in the Academy for minorities and film opportunities before giving out the award for the best animation.  

At the time I didn't think much about it until I saw a little blurb in this week's Time magazine.  Apparently the Los Angeles Times conducted a study to explain who actually determines the winners of the Oscars.  The study was done on the Academy's 5,765 person voting roster.  What did they discover?  They discovered the following:

94% White

77% Male

86% 50 or Older

Yep, there are so many colors in the rainbow, but we can only see one.  Take a gander at the movies that won--pretty much white bread flavor.  Who has the power and control?

In the Billings Gazette this morning was a banner headline for a story about Chief U.S. District Judge Richard Cebull apologizing for forwarding a racist email about President Barack Obama from his office to a couple of friends.  The judge was eating goat and proclaiming that he was not a racist despite the fact that the joke was racist to the core.  "There is no doubt it's racist. It wasn't forwarded for that purpose," Cebull said.  "If anything, it was political."  I guess it is okay to be racist if it is political--is that what he is saying?  

This is what Cebull fowarded: 

"Normally I don't send or forward a lot of these, but even by my standards, it was a bit touching.  I want all my friends to feel what I felt when I read this.  Hope it touches your heart like it did mine.

"A little boy said to his mother, 'Mommy, how come I'm black and you're white?'  His mother replied, 'Don't even to there Barack!  From what I can remember about that party, you're lucky you don't bark!'"

Ouch!  For not being a racist that was pretty harsh--pretty nasty--disrespectful and downright inappropriate for someone who is suppose to be representing all the people of our nation.  I just wonder how it touched his heart that it made him want to share it with others.  To say the least he is now caught in a whirlwind of backlash from all over--there will be an investigation upon his conduct--letters of apology have been written by him including to the President of the United States who happened to be the crux of the joke.  The man is backtracking, taking responsibility, and still proclaiming that he is not a racist.  This man sees more than one color, but the other colors that he sees are not valued at all--they are the source of ridicule and hatred.  

Well, the judge is wrong.  All of us have our prejudices of things, people, and places that we do not care for or like.  We all do.  The problem is that most of the time we are unaware of them because they are so unconscious to us that we are not even aware that we are spouting them off.  We also get away with it because  . . . well, because we are the ones in power and control.  Ours is a pretty lily white culture we live in.  But the truth is we have all made the same mistake as the judge, we have let our little prejudices out and masked them as "politics" or "humor" despite that they are damning to those who are the butt of the statement.  We all carry our own prejudices--even those of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus.  How much diversity is in your sanctuary on Sunday morning?  Remember that is the most segregated time in our country--Sunday morning when people head off to church.  How many colors do we see?  Usually one.

Awareness--consciousness--is the key to this problem.  We are to become aware of this issue in our lives and world if we are to ever change it and truly embrace the diversity of God's creation--of God's family.  There are more colors than any of us could ever imagine--look in the super-duper box of Crayola Crayons if you don't believe me.  So why do we only see one when it comes to our journey through this world?  I was taught that all of the human race--each individual--was created in the image of God.  If that is true--how can any of us hate someone else because they are a different color than we are?  Or a different gender than we are?  Or a different educational or financial level?  Or of different physical or mental abilities?  God calls us to love one another as we would love God.

  Well, I guess that is the end of my rant.  None of us is probably any closer to the solution of the problem, but maybe I have sparked something within your heart that might make you want to consider how you can make a difference--even if it is where you are.  This is only the beginning of this issue--the surface has only been scratched.  There are so many colors in a rainbow--so why do we only see one?

No Junk

When it comes to God's creation of the human race--God's children--there was and is no junk ever created.  How could there be?  The scriptures tell us that all of humanity was created in the image of God.  God even gave it the thumbs up and said that it was "good."  There is no junk in God's creation especially when it comes to you and me.  And, yet, if one is to believe the world, there is junk all around us--there is junk everywhere!  At least that is what one would suspect from the way the human race treats itself.  I just don't understand it because over and over again I hear people spouting off, "I know I'm somebody 'cause God don't make no junk!!"

I do not believe that God created any junk . . . especially when it comes to the human race.  I know that this belief may be one that others do not believe, but I cannot believe that any individual person would be considered junk in the eyes of God.  I imagine that there are those who will disagree with me on this one, and give to me a litany of worthless junk from the ranks of the human race . . . a litany that would include one's gender, race, education, financial being, religion, ability or disability to name a few.  Name them all . . . stack them up, I do not care because in the eyes of God all God's children are valued, loved, and desired by God.  There is something good and intrinsically valuable in each and every human being created by God.

I present to you Patrick Henry Hughes--a person many would have considered to be junk because he was born with not one disability, but two--he was born blind and with crippling genetic disorder.  Not one strike, but two.  Any parent would tell you that life with any children can be challenging and demanding, but for the parent of a child with a disability . . . well, it can be overwhelming and frustrating to the point that one wants to give up.  Sadly, no one would argue.  Yet, there is value and worth in each and every individual no matter how decrepit the world may view him or her.  The story of Patrick Henry Hughes proves that there is no junk in the eyes of God.  Watch--and listen--for yourself:

Then there are the two guys from Vermont who have embarked on an international campaign to show the world that people with disabilities are no different than any one else--they desire to be loved and accepted for who they are in God's eyes.  Larry Bissonettte--artist, advocate, and blogger--and Tracey Thresher--advocate and blogger--have autism.  Thanks to the computer they have found a voice and a powerful voice it is.  The two of them and their campaign is caught in the movie Wretches & Jabberers.  Here is the official trailer for this movie:

You can read more about them and their talents at the  Wretches & Jabberers official website at http://www.wretchesandjabberers.org/index.php.  At this site you will find links to both of their blogs.  It is well worth the time and effort to explore the lives of these two men--there is no junk here.

God makes no junk.  This only begins to scratch the surface of the value of those humans that others devalue and consider junk.  My last presentation against that argument is that of the website sproutflix which subtitles it sight with the goal of "making the invisible visible."  I challenge you to take a few minutes and watch the short video on sproutflix's homepage called Dreams.  You can watch it at http://sproutflix.org/.  Find and show me the junk . . . you can't.

As I stated, God makes no junk.  This is only the beginning of challenging the world's perceptions of junk . . . this only scratches the surface of what God's children are called to combat in order to fulfill the commandment to "love one another."  It is a matter of value . . . there is no junk in God's eyes.  God loves us for who God created us to be . . . so why can't we?

Everybody Loves a Little Ethic

Like any one else, I like ethnic food every so often.  So when I received my annual letter of standing for the ministry from the Commission on Ministry stating that I was granted a "provisional" standing until I completed a six-hour class on ethnics, I thought what the heck!  I can handle nibbling on some ethnic food for six hours.  Then the wife explained to me that it had nothing to do with ethnic food, but ETHICS!  I needed ethics, not ethnics . . . it put a whole different spin on the topic.

Well, I want everyone to know that I successfully completed my course on ethics--ministerial ethics, to be precise--this afternoon at 4:00PM, Mountain Standard Time, through a workshop offered by the American Baptist Church of the Northwest.  This day-and-a-half workshop taught me everything and anything that I either wanted to know or not wanted to know about ethics.  Apparently we minister-types need to do this sort of continuing education on a regular basis as we--of all people--should be considered to a highly ethical group.  I have ethics, but apparently they are not the sort of ethics most people appreciate--and perhaps, not the sort that congregations appreciate.  After the completion of this course I am full of ethics--they are dripping out of my ears!

As I stated, I thought I had a pretty good set of ethics already.  For example, I would never ever park in a handicap parking space no matter how much of a blizzard was raging outside of the local bakery and I am craving a bagel.  That is too far to run . . . I'd pull up in the no loading zone and run in quickly after I put my "Clergy" sign in the window.  Nor would I ever think of calling the idiot in the car who just cut me off on the interstate a dirty name--nope, I'd just use sign language.  Neither would I try to short change the church and Internal Revenue Service by asking the church treasurer to cash a check for me out of Sunday's offering and then reporting it as a contribution to the IRS.  Shoot, no!  I have some ethics!  Now I have even more!

  

With my new found ethics that are just oozing out of my pores I thought that this might be the time that I get into politics.  I couldn't do any worse than any of the Republican candidates running.  Then I found out that to be a politician a person shouldn't really have any ethics.  Learned that most politicians are more into "ethnic" than "ethic".  I should have thought of that a couple of days ago before I took the ethics course.  Seems I'm always a day late and a dollar short.  I have way too many ethics to ever be a politician, but if the pope ever retires . . . watch out!

   I learned that ethics deals with relationships.  Relationships with people, congregations, organizations, finances, technology, the opposite sex, sex, physical/mental/spiritual health, and a variety of other topics.  The key to any relationship is in balance that treats the "other" and the "self" with respect and well-being.  Basically it comes down to treating others as one would want to be treated--or, if you want to use the Baptist perspective shared by the leaders of this workshop, it is treating others as Jesus has treated us.  The problem is that it all boils down to relationships . . . relationships create stress . . . stress is not good.  Stress is not good because it makes us do unethical things.  In my mind, then, to avoid stress and doing unethical things we should all avoid relationships.  That is difficult when one is in the ministry.  Ministry involves relationships . . . so, I guess it is a good thing that they require us clergy to take these ethics courses every so often.

But there has to be an easier way to gain some ethics . . . an easier way to build one's moral fiber.  Some way to get that daily requirement of moral fiber . . . something they could box up and dish out on a routine basis.  According to my Baptist friends they call that the "scriptures" . . . still . . . 

 . . . this would be a lot easier!  Oh well, I passed the course, got the certificate, and I am good for another three years!  Now I can focus on ethnic food.

Another Day Older and Deeper in Debt

You load sixteen tons, what do you get
Another day older and deeper in debt
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go
I owe my soul to the company store

 

According to statistics the average person spends approximately 4.1 years in a job.  With this the average person will work seven to ten different jobs over a lifetime.  Having already reached and passed the half-way point in life (50 years old, if you were wondering), I figure I am way behind on meeting the average requirement at this point.  I'm only thirty percent of the way there and unless I work and switch jobs at least seven more times by the time I am 80 years old--I'm not going make the average!  Yet, at the same time, the way that our nation's retirement plan (Social Security) keeps upping the retirement age, I figure I have a pretty good shot at making the average.  I've got about 26 years to accomplish this!  It is going to be close!

Since jumping into the full-time work force I have basically spent the majority of the past 30-plus years as a minister.  In 2013 it will have been 30 years that I have served as a minister.  Here and there I did dabble in a few other occupations--primarily mental health counseling as a Certified Professional Counselor for a few years and now as a program coordinator for the Montana Center on Disabilities at Montana State University Billings.  I still am working in a small rural church too.  As you can see I am way, way behind the average on this one and it has got me concerned--what is a middle-aged guy, with little experience outside of the religion going to do?

Well, thanks to a recent story by CNBC and reported by MSN.com I do have some choices.  The story listed ten of the best possible careers for people to start after the age of 55.  TEN!  There is still hope for me yet.  I figure that if I pick out at least seven of the jobs--work them for a couple of years--I can become just like everyone else.  The only problem . . . well, it was the jobs that they listed.

Each of the jobs/careers that the story listed were prefaced with the fact that those over the age of fifty have several things going for them that make them desirable for these specific jobs/careers.  People over the age of fifty are wise, stable, dependable, and have experience in life.  I guess they don't know any of my friends . . . but it is nice to be considered those things just because there is a little grey in the hair. 

Here is the list of jobs: (1) Career Coach--I guess if I am in my fifties, in my seventh or eighth career, I should be able to help someone else keep a career.  Yeah, that is the sort of person I want helping me get a career--a job-hopper.  Outside of the ministry I don't think I can be of much help with this one.  Besides, it sounds like a job where I would have to wear a suit and tie--yuck!  (2) Medical Assistant--yeah right, needles scare me . . . blood doesn't thrill me . . . and I look stupid in scrubs.  Nope, that one is off the list too.  (3) Custom Garment Maker: If it isn't a tee shirt and jeans, or a sweat shirt and jeans--solid colors--no fashion sense--no flare, which pretty much describes my wardrobe, it ain't going to happen.  It is another job that involves needles too and I have this nightmare about getting my hand stuck in the sewing machine.  Nope, another one bites the dust!

(4) Assisted Living Facility Professional: Yeah, right!  My children are already planning to put me in one of those facilities next year!  Why in the world would I want to assist someone else in living his or her life when I have a difficult time living my own life.  Maybe my children are right--I'm the one who needs assistance!  Mark that one off the list.  (5) Financial Advisor: Have you seen my finances?  Enough said--mark that one off the list.  A person doesn't make much off of keeping his money under the mattress and I should know.  (6) Tour Guide: Hmmmm . . . this one sounded like it had potential until I figured out that it was a expensive day care for those who afford to take fancy trips to far away exotic places.  I raised my children once and I sure do not want to do it again with a bunch of middle-aged adults re-living spring break.

Now, number seven sounded like it could be fun . . . (7) Private Investigator: I have been told that I can be a bit nosy from time to time--a skill I imagine would be necessary to be a good "private eye".  I would probably be able to endure wearing a crumbled suit and helping mysterious desperate women needing assistance.  Yet, I don't think the wife would go for that one, so it is probably out of the mix too.  But, I have been called a "dick" once or twice and that is half-way there to being a private investigator.  (8) Sustainability Coordinator: Since I did not even know what a Sustainability Coordinator is . . . nor have I ever "sustained" much of anything . . . and I am definitely not "coordinated" in any manner of the word . . . yeah, you got it--off the list!

(9) Ghostwriter: I like writing, but I don't really care to corner myself with one topic like "ghosts"--oh, never mind!  To be a ghost writer one has to be willing to let someone else take the credit for work that he or she does.  If I'm going to do the work, I'm going to take the credit and the BIG paycheck.  If you have heard or read one of my sermons you probably understand why I am not a professional writer.  Hey, come on!  I only have 13 followers of this blog--writing?  I don't think so!  Mark that one off the list!  And, (10) Home Care Assistant: See number four--same old, same old.  Ain't going to happen.

As you can see, it looks kind of bleak for me when it comes to being "average" by the time I reach retirement.  If there is nothing on the "top ten" list of potential careers for those over fifty that I am willing or able to do--what am I going to do?  When my father retired from a career in the Air Force he wanted to have one of those jobs mowing lawns on a base somewhere where the grass stays green all year long.  I didn't see that listed on the CNBC list.  So what am I going to do? 

Someone created a chart about what is on the minds of most 50 year old men.  Having looked at it it made sense to me.  According to the chart, only ten percent of the time is about work--apparently sleep is the most important thought men have after the age of fifty. Here is the chart:

What do you think?  Maybe I should quit worrying about future careers and worry about whether or not I will have any hair on my head to replace that hair that has migrated to other parts of my body--usually parts of the body one does not want extra hair.  Places like the ears and back.  Maybe I should spend more time worrying about my bodily functions--a little extra fiber should take care of that.  Maybe I should just follow the suggestions in the chart and just quit worrying about it.

Yeah, that is what I should do--quit worrying about it.  I should just focus on what I have right now.  The university work is good and for the most part I enjoy it.  The ministry is where I have spent most of my life and I enjoy it.  Don't know much else.  So I think I will just stick to what I have, enjoy the ride, and see how far I get down the road.  In the meantime, I will keep my eyes open for a job doing lawns on a riding mower.  As ol' Tennessee Ernie Ford used to sing: "Another day older and deeper in debt."  I understand that--been doing that most of my life!  Sing it, Ernie!

Who Will Sing for Me?

Yogi Berra, one of the world's greatest philosophers--and not a bad catcher in his time,  once said: "You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours."  I have now been a minister for nearly 30 years now and in that time I have probably done hundreds of funerals.  I have always been there for people whenever there has been a death and have celebrated countless lives that were shared.  It is a rewarding part of my calling and a privilege to share such an intimate part of any family's journey.  But, it has often made me wonder about my own death and who would actually be there for me when my time comes to "cash in the chips."

One of my favorite old Appalachian songs--made famous by the Stanley Brothers--is the gospel tune Who Will Sing for Me?  This song is the story about a singer who sings for all the funerals in his or her community.  Then one day the singer comes to the realization that if something happens to him or her, who would sing for him or her?  This thought has crossed my mind or two over the years--and with more and more funerals of family and close friends . . . well, I wonder, who will sing for me?  The musical question as posed by the Stanley Brothers:

Often I sing for my friends
At death's cold hand I see
When I reach my journey's end
Who will sing for me

I wonder (I wonder) who
Will sing (will sing) for me
When I come the cross
of that silent sea
Who will sing for me

When crowds shall gather round
And look down on me
Will they turn and walk away
Or will they sing one song for me

So I'll sing til the end
Contented I will be
Assured that some friends
Will sing one song for me

Well, I guess in the end it really doesn't matter--I won't be there for the festivities anyways.  But I think it is human nature to wonder what sort of a funeral one will have whenever he or she finally kicks the bucket.  Don't you ever wonder what it will be like when you finally die?  

I imagine that there will be someone who steps up and agrees to put the final touches on everything and anything that was John Keener.  I only hope and pray that it will be someone who will take the time to really get to know me through those family members and friends who have been left behind--otherwise it might be a pretty dull service.  I think whatever anyone has to say about me needs to have that sense of wisdom that comes from one who was a wiseguy--a kidder--and enjoyed laughing at the irony of life.  Yet, at the same time I think it needs to be someone who can also convey the passion and fire I had for the things that I believed in. There has got to be a lot of laughter and music--some micro brews and wine--and lots of corny jokes and stories.  It needs to be a party.  Yeah, a party.  Is there anyone out there who thinks they can do me justice?

I hope so.

In the movie The Big Chill I loved how it opened with the long-time friends gathering to bury one of their friends.  (Ten points for anyone who could name the actor who portrayed the dead friend.)  I loved that when everyone was processing out of the church the organist broke out a rock and roll song--do you remember what the song was?  (Ten more points if you can name the song and the artists.)  That movie--minus all of the psychological meandering--is how I would want my life celebrated.  Here is a clue to help you:

A celebration . . . yeah, that would be good.  I will never really know who will sing for me on that day when it comes, but I am sure someone will.  My hope--my dream--is that it will be a celebration.  Yeah, I agree with Yogi, the reason I go to funerals in hope that others will come to mine!

Quit Hollerin' at Me!

Joseph Campbell stated that an individual could determine what was of the most value in a community by looking at its buildings--the bigger the building the more value that entity had within the community.  He stated that when communities were first being established the church was the biggest building in the community.  After a while the church was dwarfed by city hall.  Then, eventually, both the church and the city hall were dwarfed by the financial institutions like the bank.  He said one of the best examples of this is to look at the skyline of Salt Lake City.  Surprisingly, he is right. 

Since reading this theory I have taken it one step further and brought it down to the home.  My theory is that an individual can determine what is the most valuable in any home by looking for what is the biggest thing in the home.  Typically it is the television.  The television has become the center of the home and of most family life.  Over the years the television has taken up more and more time and space in the homes and lives of people.  Television has taken up more and more time in the lives of people--it seems to be on in a lot of peoples' lives.

I have never been really big on television--at least not in the past decade or two.  I find television to be insulting to my intelligence.  Most television is written at a sixth grade level--a sort of universal design for the human race.  Most of us can understand things written at the sixth grade level--not real challenging.  I also find television to be insulting to the human race and its intelligence when it relies upon rude, crude, and insulting humor at the expense of people to get their laughs.  But the biggest reason I don't spend more than an hour (outside of the college football season when my beloved University of Nebraska Cornhuskers are playing) is because I am tired of being yelled at.  The television yells at me all of the time!

Most of us probably know--or at least we should be able to determine it--that commercials are cranked up when it comes to their volume on our televisions.  Advertisers crank up the volume to grab our attention to sell their products.  They are shouting and hollering at us.  They yell at us to buy their shampoo, toothpaste, cars, electronic devices, cell phones, and every other imaginable product that could be hawked over the airwaves. 

Well, I for one, am tired of being hollered at!

I don't want to buy a new car.  I don't want to switch shampoo in order to have longer, stronger, and more luxerious hair--heck, I just want some hair!  And, no, I do not want your product that promises to grow more hair on my head!  I do not want a product to make my teeth whiter and brighter.  Neither do I want something that will thin the ol' waistline, burn the fat, and give me a six pack ab--the only six pack I want is of the newest micro brew.  Nor do I want to be enticed to go to the latest and greatest movie release when I just saw the best parts of it in the trailer.  I do not want to get rich quick, attract the opposite sex, or discover help when I have fallen down.  I do not need a lawyer to sue the guy who cut me off on the interstate.  So, I just the hollerin' at me to stop.  I am not some imbecile who has to put up with the latest and greatest slapstick routine to get my attention.  I don't need any more pies in my face--especially from my television.

I think singer/songwriter John Prine says it best in his song Quit Hollerin' at Me.  Listen to what he has to say:

So it was years ago that I decided to just quit watching television.  Oh, yeah, I watch a little television here and there, but for the most part I have my television watching down to about an hour a week.  True, I walk around with a smug smirk on my face thinking I am better than everyone else because I am not sitting around watching the boob tube and getting hollered at . . . but it is nice to not have to listen to a lot of garbage being screamed into my ears.  I always listen to people complain about how terrible this show or that show is on television--how stupid the commercials are--and am amazed at how they sit there and watch it.  If you don't like something, turn it off.  Quit watching it.  I'm glad I did because about fifty percent of the voices I heard yelling at me are gone.  Now if I could only find a way to stop the hollerin' at work . . . on the commute . . .

. . . how does one turn the volume down on life?