America, Jesus, Freedom

"America, Jesus, Freedom."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. But people like it when I say it."

Those are the opening lines of the new movie, The Campaign. The interchange between the character played by Will Ferrell and one of his campaign workers highlights a cultural trend in America: we use words without really thinking about what they mean.

Those three lines, though, do more than that. These words also highlight a trend that is particularly scary, in my opinion. As a society, especially the spheres impacted by politics, we throw around religion however we want to, to do whatever we want with it.

In the short dialogue between Ferrell and his worker, Ferrell gives one of his catchphrases: "America, Jesus, Freedom." It's something he says a lot. And when he says it, his constituents and people all across the country like it. The underlying idea here is that when a political candidate mixes together Christianity and the American experiment, people like it . . . because it makes them feel good. They don't stop to think about what the words actually mean. They just know they like it.

When we stop and think about mixing religion and politics, we see that it's not good because it's scary. History has taught us for thousands of years that mixing the two are never a good idea. It's not that religion does not have an impact upon one's politics and the way government works. True religion absolutely does that. But when a particular brand of religion becomes too closely identified with one particular type of government, or one particular political party, the results are always detrimental, both for religion and for politics.

Ferrell's character shows us that we need to stop and think about the words we use. I would add to his example words like: "pro-choice" and "pro-life." Again, when we stop and think about it, these words do not make sense. Someone who supports the rights of women to choose things like abortion are not against life itself . . . and someone who supports legislation that puts greater limits upon things like abortion is not necessarily against a woman's right to choose various things. We don't always think about the words we use, like these. And when we do that, we allow labels like this to characterize and stereotype others. That's not good.

So let's think about the words we use and use them with real meaning and with purpose.

Along those lines, I am going to make-up a new word to use: proaction. Webster might have already coined that term. But I don't hear it being used. So I am going to make it up. We use the word reaction to describe how we react to something. Occasionally, we describe something that is the opposite of being re-active as being pro-active, taking a step or an action before something that would have otherwise triggered or caused us to act.

So I am going to take that idea; and put a twist on the word: proaction, more of a noun, I guess. "Through proaction, the officer discovered the bomb and detonated it before it went off." Or "the sun uses proaction as a solar eclipse is the sun's attempt to hide Chuck Norris." Or "that man exhibited proaction as he broke every bone in his body to avoid Chuck Norris doing it for him." See what I mean? :)

What's your new word . . . or what's a word you are going to stop using, because it is used incorrectly, to characterize or to stereotype? This is a small thing. But by taking a second and thinking about the words we use, we can really have an impact upon the world around us.

One of the Most Meaningless Traditions Around

Every concert I have been to, larger than a coffeehouse-type setting, has a curtain call. The artist/band always thanks everyone for coming, walks off stage like it's over, then comes back on stage as everyone roars in applause, in other words, for a curtain call.

It seems to have lost its meaning. A curtain call should be when the crowd is so enthralled or so enamored with what they have witnessed that their applause basically demands the person/people to come back out on stage and give them more. But now when a band walks off stage, pretty much no one in the audience leaves because they know the band will be right back on stage to do a few more songs.

Why even do that? If you need a breather, then I completely understand. But if you do it just because that's what happens in concerts, that makes no sense. And it takes away from true curtain calls.

I'll stop my complaining now and move on with life.

Rhett Miller is good, really good.

Rhett is my homeboy. Well not really; but I did get to meet him once, because of my friend, Rhylan. And I really enjoyed being around him.

And to the couple who was standing beside me last night at the concert: no one wants to see you basically try to undress each other in public, no one. PDA is never cool, especially your version of it. I'm pretty sure your mom and dad would be ashamed if they had seen you. And you should be, too.

That's it. I'll stop my complaining now and move on with life.

The Oughts of Life

I just finished reading Parker Palmer's Let Your Life Speak. It's a wonderful read. There are many beneficial, helpful things in the book. One is that Palmer speaks about the "oughts" of life. Many of us live by the reasoning that there are things we ought to do in life. We define those things and then go do them, many times at the expense of what we really should be doing.

This is a really interesting way of looking at things. Many times, the things we ought to do are not what we really should be doing. Parker is speaking specifically about vocations, stating that we often choose our jobs based upon what would be good to do for others, whether or not it is good for us or fulfills what we really want to be doing, deep-down inside.

To quote Parker: "Despite the American myth, I cannot be or do whatever I desire . . . There are some roles and relationships in which we thrive and others in which we wither and die . . . There are some things I 'ought' to do or be that are simply beyond my reach. If I try to be or do something noble that has nothing to do with who I am, I may look good to others and to myself for a while. But the fact that I am exceeding my limits will eventually have consequences."

Challenging words to live by.

Well, I'll Be

That's not a phrase I use very often. In fact, I rarely use it all. So rarely that I have to question myself when I do use it.

I had a phone conversation today with what I presume is an older man, at least from the way his voice sounded on the phone. At one point during the conversation, he said something; and I found myself replying, "Well, I'll be."

If I used that phrase during most of my daily, regular conversations, I would imagine I would probably get a good number of blank stares back at me. This is because it's not a phrase that I tend to use very much. I find that I use this phrase most often when I am talking to someone whom I think would probably like to hear it, not necessarily because I want or feel a need, from within myself, to say it.

There is nothing necessarily wrong with saying that particular phrase, or phrases like it. But when we say phrases or do things out of a desire to please someone else and not at all from a sense of who we are or by being true to ourselves, we should probably pause for a second and question what exactly it is that we are doing.

When Politics Gets Personal

I have always heard that the most difficult thing about politics, running in political races, etc. is how personal it gets. In other words, it can really hurt, deep down. I knew someone who ran in a couple of races, when I was a youngster. That was a while back, so it is difficult to remember a whole lot of details from then.

But a couple of days ago, we received a political advertisement in the mail. We almost threw it away, then we realized it was attacking a friend of ours, who was running in a political race against this particular candidate who sent us the ad. What made it more odd was that it was addressed to us, here at our Texas address. But the political ad was for a race that was being held in Georgia, in the county we used to live in. As a side note, what made it even more odd was that the ad was touting the particular candidate's record of cutting spending in the last four years in his incumbent role. However, he was clearly wasting money by sending the ad addressed to us, at an out-of-state address, because we cannot even vote in that election since we do not live there. Pretty ironic.

I was glad to learn that that particular candidate who sent us the ad did not win his election last night. Rather, our friend did. I am glad my friend won because he is a really good guy. And I am particularly glad for the county that we used to live in because we came to really enjoy that county and I feel that the county will benefit with my friend in his new role.

But reading that political advertisement hurt. It hurt because it was attacking my friend. It said things that, of course, were not true and were hurtful. It almost made me want to lash out, maybe write a letter to the editor, to do something, anything . . . because of the anger that it caused to come to surface inside of me.

Political races can do that . . . especially when they get personal. That's why it seems to me that politics, as a hole, has really lost touch with people and with what it was intended to be. I know it has when it causes me to have feelings like I did the other day. The point of a political race is to get the best person, in the eyes of voters, elected to seats and positions. It's time we start demanding that that be done and that any means to get to that end is not okay, means like personally attacking someone on a level that's untrue and hurtful . . . like the ad we received in the mail.

I should not continue to be angry or to harbor bad feelings against someone. I simply shouldn't. But I have to admit that it felt good when I found out that the person who sent me the ad in the mail lost the race . . . and my friend won. I would have much rather have simply been happy that my friend won and have not had ill feelings toward the candidate who lost. But I have to admit that those ill feelings were there.

It was my fault that I had those ill feelings. But politics helped me have them. That's what politics, when done the wrong way, can do. And that's why it's high time that politics change.

Small Talk

I got a haircut today. On the drive to it, I was already dreading the small talk that always goes on during a haircut. I've gotten my hair cut at many places through the years. But one thing always seems to be a constant: small talk. I can never remember leaving a haircut and thinking to myself, "What a great conversation I just had."

Small talk, especially during hair cuts, always seems to be forced and awkward, for me at least. I've never been a big fan of small talk. Sure, I've learned how to do it, in all sorts of different places. And I think I probably do a pretty decent job of doing it. But it always feels a bit awkward, at best.

Some of the best hair cuts I have ever had had the smallest amount of conversation, particularly with people that I do not know. We both sensed that the purpose was the hair cut, exchanged a few pleasantries, but then enjoyed a few minutes of silence, that was neither forced nor awkward.

After leaving my hair cut today, I, of course, reflected on the conversation. I began to feel a little bad, maybe beating myself up a little, that I don't enjoy small talk, something that is inevitable in today's world. But then it hit me--that's just who I am. There's no need to beat ourselves up over things that we don't do well, or don't enjoy doing, particularly things we wish we were better at or wish we enjoyed. Identifying what we do well, don't do well, enjoy, don't enjoy is one thing. But to wish we were somebody we are not . . . that's not good.

So I will go on doing small talk because that's part of life. But that doesn't mean I have to be the world's best at it, or even be a fan of it . . . because that's just who I am.

Kaiden, Can You Say, " . . . "

Our two year-old nephew, Kaiden, visited us this past weekend. On a number of occasions, I found myself starting a sentence with the phrase: "Kaiden can you say . . ." Then I would go on to say something that I either thought he should say or imagine that he might say.

It's something we all do, especially with kids and pets. I have noticed myself say that around other kids, especially relatives. And I notice myself say that with our dog, too: "Jane can you say . . ."

Most often we say this to be funny or with something light-hearted. But saying the phrase got me to thinking that we could very easily use phrases like this to insert things that we think kids (or pets) should do or think or say, regardless of whether or not that is something they would actually, themselves, say.

Now sure, that is over-thinking this whole thing a bit. And many, many times, that is not the case. But there is some truth there. We do need to make sure we are nurturing and helping young people, or pets for that matter, grow and mature into the people that they truly are and not always necessarily the people we think they should become.

Good thing we don't do that with adults . . . or do we?

Dear Diary

We took our nephew and my sister to the pool yesterday. It's quite an impressive city pool, complete with splash park, etc. We have driven by it numerous times and have wanted to check it out. Checking it out with a 2 year-old is a much better (socially acceptable) way to do it, though.

While there, we saw a young girl who is a lifeguard that seemed to be taking a break. She was sitting off to the side, on a bench, writing in what appeared to be a journal.

You don't see that much these days. Not sure why. But I think that's great. One thing we seem to be losing is the ability, or the desire, to journal, to write about our daily happenings, to write in a diary.

I have done some workshops/lessons on journaling as a spiritual practice. And I believe that to be the case. There really is something to the art or practice of writing in a journal.

My grandmother did that. I'm not sure how long or what periods of her life all of her journals covered. But it was really cool to read back about what happened in her life, even what might have seemed like at the time the seemingly mundane, daily, regularly events. It was definitely neat to read back over those things. And my suspicion is that the act of recording those things was also neat, beneficial, even a spiritual practice for her.

The Worst Best Team Ever

We've got one of, if not the best, Texas Rangers teams ever.

The status and records show that. I forget exactly where the numbers put us; but I'm pretty sure they're right around the best team record ever, this many games in. So it's definitely one of the best teams we've ever had.

But this could be one of the worst best teams there has ever been.

I don't think any Rangers fan feel confident their team can win a game. Sure, they do win. And the record shows that we win plenty. But we don't feel confident that we can a big game . . . or come from behind . . . or even hold a lead, for that matter.

Many people blame the pitching. And there's plenty to blame there, especially since two of our opening day starters are gone for the season . . . and our big trade deadline has given up eight runs twice and isn't even with the team now . . . and Oswalt would rather complain about being in the bullpen than actually doing anything about it.

But I point towards the offense, or the lack thereof. We simply cannot come up with a big hit when we need it. Getting a run home from third with less than two outs is an absolute adventure every time. Kinsler's swinging at a first-pitch, ground out, with bases loaded last night in an absolutely huge spot is a microcosm of our year, especially offensively.

There is still plenty of time to turn it around. And, of course, nothing matters now except for what happens in October. But the evidence to this point suggests that we won't be getting it done then. I sure hope we do.

Nine-Banded Armadillo

I hope I never meet one. The name alone scares the poo out of me.

Huntsville has a system of bike/walking trails not too far from our house. We have been on them before, briefly, and were impressed. So I decided to go ride them on my bike yesterday. Great idea in the middle of some August heat.

Great idea if you're only going to be on them for a few minutes, which I was not. I got a tad lost. Long enough to make through an entire Sklabro County (not Country) episode.

Before I entered the trails, I looked at the map . . . which did me no good. There was also a list of animals and varmints one might meet on the trail. One particular critter was called a nine-banded armadillo. It seriously sounds like a cross between something Jack Black was attacked by in Nacho Libre and one of Chuck Norris' pets.

Why is the armadillo banded? And why is it banded nine times? I don't know. And I don't want to know. The name alone is frightening . . . or, at least odd, a tad askew, to quote Seinfeld.

Fortunately, I did not come across one, as far as I know. I did come across a dog on the trails, which I thought, for a second, might have been wild and rabid, ready to tear my left arm off. I must have been on-edge, waiting for the nine-banded armadillo to attack me, because the dog was neither wild nor rabid, as its owner was just around the corner. In fact, the dog was scared of my bike.

Looking back at the picture, the nine-banded bandito looked as harmless (to humans) as any other armadillo. Nothing to it. But still, I'm not messing with a nine-banded anything, much less an armadillo.

So stay thirsty, my friends . . . and stay clear of those nine-banded boogy monsters.