Elementary Lunches

Aly commented that elementary school cafeterias are a hotbed of formative memories. She's so right. Remember how there were cool lunches and just plain dumb lunches? You were a god if you brought Lunchables to the table. You were a geek if you pulled out an an apple. If your sandwhich was made with whole-wheat bread, you were an outcast, while white bread was cool. Kudos bars? In. Raisins? Most definitely OUT! Do you see a pattern? Our elementary peers burned our brains with the message that healthy foods are for losers while unhealthy foods are for the chic and desirable. No wonder we struggle with our weight later in life!

Absurdist Reality

I remember it like it was yesterday, me the one white kid among all those black ones, in the elementary school cafeteria. One of them, Truitt Adams, doesn’t want his little smokies. I reach for them, and Mark Calahan (funny I still remember their names) tells me don’t even think about it. Accepting the challenge, I reach further. I am within inches when Mark makes a fist and slams it into my face. My nose explodes—blood everwhere. In the bathroom, Mr. Holly, the shop teacher, asks me who did it. I tell him no one; it’s allergies or dry heat or something. He says he has to stick acid in his nose with Q-tips to keep his nose from bleeding in the winter. Too much information. When I go back to the cafeteria after cleaning myself up, the others laugh at me, and the laughing becomes a crowd of adults who still laugh at the way my nose whistles when the air is just right.

Living Against the Grain of Nature

Here in Michigan this time of year, it stays dark late into the morning and becomes dark early in the evening. I left work today at 6PM in complete darkness. Makes me think we should live our lives according to the light. Maybe the darkness is earth’s way of telling us to stop, to rest. Maybe we’re meant to be awake for more time in the summer than we are in the winter; that is certainly the case with other creatures. Why not us?

Max

It seems like every boarding stable has its own canine ranch hand. At Flying J Stables in Plain City, Utah, the mantle fell to a splotchy grey and black mutt named Max. Flying J is where my dad kept his horses for a few years when I was thirteen.

Max was tall enough to hold a person’s hand in his mouth—something he did regularly—and had a face like a golden retriever’s. I remember seeing him outflank and outjump the horses in the pasture, but for all his swiftness and muscular power he was also a compassionate sort. When he looked at you, he tilted his head and lowered his eyebrows like a concerned mother.

Precious few are the friends who show the same loyalty Max showed. Not once did he fail to run and bark out his greeting when I rode my bike down the gravel road that led to the stables. I’d say hi to him as he wagged his tail, and he’d amble beside me through the stable gates.
He was handy with horses too. Sometimes horses will lie down in their stalls in such a way that they can’t get back up. If they stay in this position for too long, their muscles can’t support the weight of their bodies, and they suffocate. More than once Max heard a horse in distress and ran to the nearest human. Gingerly holding the person’s hand in his mouth, Max would bring help to some poor mare who’d got herself in trouble.

On really hot days Max and I had a habit of laying down in the shade of a large trampoline in front of the stable keepers’ ranch house. Max let me use him for a pillow, and I’d stare up through the netting of the trampoline and teach Max what shapes the clouds were. "Now, Max, that one there is a dragon," I’d say. "And that one over there, that’s a huge ugly monster." Every now and again Max would lift up his head and look at me; then he’d drop it to the ground and sigh. I guess he didn’t care much for my tutoring.

Looking back, I think Max probably taught me more than I did him. One thing he taught me was the importance of showing up. Whether he was meeting me on a country road, saving a horse, or giving me his company under the trampoline, Max always showed up. I can’t help but wonder how things would be different if the rest of the world showed up more often. What if nations always showed up for peace summits? What if CEOs always showed up for work? What if fathers always showed up for dinner?

Max showed up for one more event on my trips to Flying J, and that was to say good-bye. Whenever I got on my bike to leave, Max trotted beside me as I rode away. I’d look back, and there he would be, standing in the road looking forlorn, even though I’d be back the next day.
But one day Dad got a new job, and we had to move. On my last day at the Flying J, I told Max to keep taking care of the horses and helping out with the place. I hugged him and told him I’d miss him, I’d never forget him.

When it was time to go, I walked with him to my bike, gave him a good scratch on the head, and he ran beside me for a while as I rode away for the last time. I looked back, and there he was looking after me as one friend to another. That’s the last sight I had of him.

I suppose Max is still showing up for his daily duties, if not here, somewhere else. It was his nature, and I hope it is mine as well.

Election Reflection

In the movie Shawshank Redemption, an elderly man who has spent most of his life in prison is finally released. He enters free society and is astonished at how fast the pace of life is. Cars speed past him. He can't bag groceries fast enough. Passers-by yell at him for walking too slowly. Summing up the experience, he says, "The world went and got itself in a big goddamn hurry."

With the re-election of Bush, I feel like saying the world went and got itself in a big goddamn mess. Technically I voted for Kerry, but mentally it was not a vote for Kerry as much as a vote against Bush. I voted mainly on the issue of Iraq. I think we need to get out of that country as soon as possible, and I am deeply grieved by the loss of life on both sides, which only increases as time goes by. I believe the invasion was a mistake.

I heard a story on NPR that I think put its finger on at least one reason Democrats lost this election. They are out of touch with most Americans on issues of morality. Most Americans, it seems, are pro-life and do not support gay marriage. Since Clinton, Democrats have not done an adequate job of articulating their nuanced positions on these issues.

I also think that the natural response to terror, any terror, is to run for safety, and many see conservatism as safer than liberalism. The conservatives understand this, of course, which is why we saw a Bush/Cheney ad that symbolized terrorists with wolves stalking their prey. Who were their prey? We were. The wolves looked out of our TV sets at us, and a voiceover said something about predators looking for weakness. Pretty scary stuff. Such messages as this were effective in pushing many in this nation to the right.

The Grand Unified Theory of Loving Others

If I had to come up with the grand unified theory of loving others, I'd say it's empathy.

We're doing a four-part series at church on caring for aging parents, and the teacher's answer to the caregiving question ("How do I care for so and so?") is empathy, though he doesn't use that word. If a person is blind, blindfold yourself for a while to see what it's like; then you'll be better equipped to help that person. If a woman is hallucinating, don't dismiss her; ask her about what she's seeing and explore the hallucination with her. If a man is constantly angry, recognize that being constantly angry is a talent that can be channeled in a useful direction (e.g., a political cause). If a woman who's had a stroke has lost her speech and only moans now, be with her long enough to know how to discern between the meanings of her moans.

When you're with someone in need of care, be she old or depressed or crippled or whatever, the way to help is simply to be with her in that place at that time. The temptation is to turn away, to be dismissive, to convince the other to feel differently, but the way to help is to be in the pain with her. Nothing else.