As Clear As A Spanish Town At Noon… Thoughts on Jo Stafford

She was before my time. I am not sure why I liked her. Maybe because my dad was a Vet during World War II, I am not sure. But I am a fan of many of those World War II tunes, the big band era and the American Song book. For many in my confirmation class who relate to hip hop and Justin Timberlake it is strange music. The music that Jo Stafford sang seemed like it was from a happier time…. She sang many things, some of which were war tunes that seemed to inspire people who suffered from separation from those who went off to defend our country.

Examples of those melodies are "I will never smile again until I smile at you…" or "I will be seeing you in all those old familiar places…" or "Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week…" or the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of company B by the Andrew Sisters and others.

If you appreciate the American Song book like I do, you must be saddened by her death, as she is one of the original singers of that historic era.

I first became acquainted with her work through the Pipe Pipers and the Tommy Dorsey Band that Frank Sinatra sang with in the early 40s. I last saw her on a special that honored Frank Sinatra. She came out of retirement to sing a rendition of ”I will never smile again" with the Pipe Pipers. I still have a tape of the old geezers reuniting.

I am a child of the 60s, but the music of Harold Arlen, Sammy Cahn, Jimmy Van Heusen, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter, George Gershwin, Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart, Allen J Learner, Irving Berlin and many others from that era and Tin Pan Ally always wrapped themselves around my ears. Their work is always an amazing experience. It could be sung by Judy Garland or Peggy Lee or Ella Fitzgerald and, of course, Jo Stafford

Jo Stafford is well known for her big hit "You belong to me." Jonathan Schwartz said that she sang "directly in the center of the note, and her sound was as clear as a Spanish town at noon."

Angry Atheists

Atheists – “Thou doth protest too much, methinks.” In the past year we have had many books come out on atheism or should I say “Anti God” if could coin such a term. I am not bothered by atheists per se. There are many in the history of the faith and in modern existential thought who have contributed to in a meaningful way to the “God conversation” — Nietzsche, Sartre and Camus to name a few. Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins of late really have only added their misplaced anger. I found the following on a recent blog entry of Andrew Sullivan (http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/) in which I find common ground:

But atheism has expelled me. It has expelled me because it has in its heart contempt and loathing and fear of the other. So I reject it. I don't reject all atheists; many atheists are uninterested in ridiculing the religious -- they simply want to be left in peace, and not have religion forced on them or on the law. That, to me, is a principled atheism, and one I am happy to coexist with. But this new atheism, this anti-theism, has only contempt at its heart, and I reject it as thoroughly as it has rejected me.

In the end, there is an atheism that inhabits all meaningful conversations on faith. Doubt is about faith and without it there would not be faith. As a believer who loves this frail and flawed church I can only echo words of a boy’s father in the Gospel of Mark: ”Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.” Mark 9:24

A ride through Astoria

I am not often in Queens, a sort of forgotten borough of New York City with the exception of the thousands of people that live in this dense area of the city. On this occasion I was there to preside at a funeral for a family that had lost their father at 86 years. He was a Lutheran and they needed a pastor, so I was there to help them through this difficult passage. He was survived by his three children. They insisted on a graveside service which was fine with me, but it was preceded by a funeral procession which was to pass by familiar places like the family home and church.

So, we were off on our journey through a place teeming with people from all kinds of ethnic backgrounds. As we drove through crowded streets on a Saturday morning I saw grocery stores that were Spanish or Greek. I noticed Italian restaurants, and a Brazilian place that looked good among nail shops and Korean noodle shops. It was an adventure to the eye to be seeing all the different nationalities and languages and people as we processed with poor leadership from the guy in the hearse. Within a few minutes we had lost half of the procession and minutes later two yellow taxi cabs joined our group for a while along with some other unwanted cars. When we crossed intersections impatient people in cars tried to pull in front of us. Next time I hope that guy who was so angry at me will wave at me with 5 fingers instead of just one.

The farther along we continued, the more difficult it got, but not knowing where the cemetery was I was determined to continue, no matter what and not get separated from the lead car. We eventually arrived at the graveside and waited for those lost to find us—which most of them did. All I kept thinking about was the passage: “Let the dead bury the dead”… It would be easier than trying to drive through Queens on a Saturday morning. Life does go on even in the midst of death and in Queens it looks extra busy.

Despite all the complications we arrived at the spot where he was to lay, next to his wife, as his tree children and grandchildren looked on to receive a flag from our country where he served. I did hear the military man say, “He served 4 years overseas, he is the real McCoy, the genuine article a member of the ‘greatest generation’”. His children told me that he was a great dad and husband and even was an usher and Elder at Grace Lutheran Church in Astoria.

Life goes on, no question about that. Sometimes we just need to stop and pay our last respects to a life well lived and one given for others.

Buckminster Fuller and the Choice for Life

On a very humid Sunday afternoon I found myself looking for refuge in a very stark stone structure known as the Whitney Museum. I had heard that there was a Buckminster Fuller exhibition - and, by the way, it is worthwhile seeing. We had an excellent guide who took us through the wondrous world of ideas of Fuller whose work testifies to the power of art, imagination, and genius. However, as you enter the exhibit, on the wall there was a paragraph that brought a chill to me on this hot day that said something like this: After Fuller’s daughter had died, he considered killing himself, but there was an inner voice that seemed to interrupt all of this to tell him he had a greater mission in life. That he could actually do something great for humankind.

Buckminster Fuller realized that he had a choice, just like all of us, with the gift of life that has been given us. Yet we know from statistics that many do not make the same choice he made in a time of crisis. In a recent New York Times Magazine article by Scott Anderson entitled “The Urge to End It All” Anderson tries to make the case that while suicide is an opportunity to end one’s life, it is often a permanent solution to a temporary situation. The article seems to say that when the opportunity to take one’s life is foiled or hindered, second thoughts about living come up and, oftentimes, can change one’s life’s trajectory totally. Buckminster Fuller is a case in point. As I strolled through the exhibit and saw many drawings and models of futuristic dwellings, even a car designed by him, it was also noted that Stanford University holds four tons of his documents. The whole time I kept pondering over and over again in my head his decision to choose life.

For many of us it does not seem like a hard choice. Our fear of death and cowardliness prevents us from even considering the option. Even on a subtler level, not choosing life does not necessarily have to mean snuffing out your existence; it could mean making bad choices that in the end are self-destructive. It seems to me that we make choices every day that can be for life, creativity, and the enhancement of other lives that surround us. We can also make choices that diminish us and are self-destructive. In other words, we are wasting the energy and the moments given to us. The Old Testament offers these words of advice from Deuteronomy 30:19: "I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants.”

So, be a blessing, and life may surprise you.

Nice Guys...

During the weekend of June 15—Father’s Day—I was watching the US Open and I noticed that my favorite golfer, Phil Mickelson, was still in the game. Tiger Woods had still not won, and Phil had just completed a great putt. The commentators later reported that when Phil had completed his putt and was leaving the green, he passed by a young boy on the shoulders of his father and he handed him the golf ball. The boy was elated. The commentators remarked that that was vintage Mickelson. At that point another commentator said in a rather critical way that Mickelson has “this problem of always wanting to be liked”. Right away, I was annoyed. What is wrong with doing something nice? Does there always have to be a selfish motive behind every good deed? Does a simple gesture like handing a golf ball to a boy have to have an ulterior motive?

One of the problems in our new world is that people are suspicious of everything, even good deeds. There must be something sinister behind every action. Why can’t we be nice, or kind, or good for its own sake? Jesus once said that you should love your enemies because loving your friends is something everyone can do. Put another way, doing good things for others and even caring for those who do not deserve it is what we are supposed to do.

I once saw a cartoon in the New Yorker that had a picture of a man smiling as he looked at another man and said, “I am a nice guy. Who finished first?” The world, of course, feels differently, captured in the old saying, “Nice guys finish last.” I am still thinking about another nice guy who is no longer with us -Tim Russert. Most of us did not realize how nice he was because we assume that to arrive at the top of your game or the “top of the heap”, you usually have to do some mean and selfish things, and even step on a few people. I do not want to canonize Tim Russert into sainthood. He is a sinner like the rest of us. Nevertheless, it is no secret that he loved his family, idolized his father, was extremely close to his son, was a huge fan of the Buffalo Bills and a devout Catholic whose faith meant something to him. It was part of his lifestyle and practice, and, dare we say, part of his being. He was definitely a nice guy who finished first.

“I Am as Corny as Kansas in August”

I am sure that Kansas is corny in August as stalks rise up to the sky. However, as fate would have it, I was there only a couple of weeks ago when the corn was just sprouting from the ground. I had never been to Kansas before even though I lived in Illinois and went to college in Indiana, and as I walked through the airport reading advertisements, I discovered to my surprise that it has produced a lot of famous people. As I looked at the walls, I saw names like Amelia Earhart, Dennis Hopper, William Ing, Bob Dole, Buster Keaton, Stan Kenton, Harold Lloyd, Zasu Pitts, John Cameron Swayze, and many others. They all reminded me that the ground I was standing on was significant.

And here I was – arriving to preside over the wedding of Kris and Ellen Roggemann ( http://www.krisandellen.com/home.asp ), a young couple that I am very fond of and one of whom I baptized and confirmed.

I usually do not like it when people write their wedding vows. They usually sound as corny as Kansas in August… However, Kris and Ellen insisted on writing their own and they did a wonderful job. They wrote:

I, Kris/Ellen, take you, Ellen/Kris, to be my wife/husband, to share the good times and the hard times side by side.

I humbly give you my hand and my heart as I pledge my faith and love to you.

I promise to encourage and inspire you, to support you in your goals, to laugh with you, to comfort you in times of sorrow, and to work by your side in creating a wonderful life together.

And during the exchange of rings:

I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.

As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you.

Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be faithful to you.

Upon my return to New York I learnt that Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller tied the knot the day before Kris and Ellen. They, too, wrote their own vows. Brooke reportedly said that she would cook more meals outside of the microwave and keep piles of debris on her side of the bed below the two foot mark and clean her closet at least once a decade. Sheen reportedly promised to organize less and listen more, quit breaking a hug too soon and mute the ball game when Brooke says, “This is a matter of life and death”. Sheen mentioned that traditional wedding vows are “so outdated” that there appears to be no difference from what is said at a wedding or at a funeral, except the casket. So, they ended their vows by saying “This and that, such and such, yada, yada, yada, bla, bla, bla.”

I suppose there is no need for me to comment on their wedding vows. They speak for themselves and for the lack of seriousness about their relationship. Perhaps that’s why all of Charlie Sheen’s relationships have ended up in a casket. Call me corny, but vows need to be taken seriously even if they are not lived up to as well as we would like it. In all relationships we need to set the bar high.

Review of the Play “Thurgood” with Theological Implications

I had the privilege of going to see the one-man play “Thurgood” starring Laurence Fishburne and written by George Stevens Jr. I had admired George Steven Jr. biographical film of his father entitled: “George Stevens, Film Maker’s Journey”. George Stevens (Sr.) films are favorites of mine; however, I had my doubts about his son as a writer because children do not always live up to the fame of their parents, i.e., Frank Sinatra Jr. So, I came to the play with some doubts about how good it could be. “Oh, me of little faith”. I was wrong, and for ninety minutes I was mesmerized by Fishburne’s portrayal of this giant of civil rights history. Anyone who is a lawyer ought to see this play because you would find it not only inspiring, but a renewing experience.

The play moves through the history of Thurgood Marshall who was on the Supreme Court for over twenty years. It has lots of humor, psychological depth, and is dramatically portrayed with such ease that you forget you are watching Laurence Fishburne and think you are actually seeing Thurgood Marshall. It is a miracle to be able to talk for ninety minutes and make it interesting and moving. He wrung out all the emotions in me, from anger to laughter to tears.

What I found to be important about this play was that it approached the civil rights issue and the racial divide in our country from a different perspective. Usually we think of inequality, racism and, linked with that, civil disobedience. For example, just recently here in New York, if you looked to find Al Sharpton he would generally be leading a media circus in an attempt to remove Don Imus from the radio (regardless of any apology) or leading a demonstration against a court decision. “Thurgood”, the play, talks about an individual who is dedicated and committed with a firm faith in the law of this land. He was dedicated to using the law as a way to bring justice to this country, and while justice may come slowly, when it does come, it is victorious.

This play brings out how little America knows about Thurgood Marshall and his early career as a civil rights lawyer who argued Brown vs. the Board of Education in 1954. It talks of racism in the military, with people like Gen. Douglas MacArthur denying it and defending the all-white military band. Marshall points out in a humorous line, “Don’t tell me you can’t find a Negro who can blow a horn”. You also get an interesting look at President Lyndon B. Johnson, who appointed Marshall to the Supreme Court, as the gifted politician who was able to convince enough senators, one by one, to confirm Marshall.

In the end, this is a history lesson that jogged my mind in a new direction, giving me not only a great admiration for Thurgood Marshall, but an immense appreciation for the law of our country. It also pushed me to think about documents and precepts that one’s own life could be dedicated towards from a faith perspective. For example, Marshall ended up not only using the law but loving the law. Perhaps what may be missing in our life and lifestyle as Christians is a deeper appreciation for scripture and even for such things as the Ten Commandments or the creeds of our Church. In most cases there is in ignorance that hovers like a cloud over many in our congregation who rarely open the Bible or even know what is foundational to our faith. For Marshall the law was not a dusty volume of torts on the wall – and wouldn’t it be great if the Bible were opened by us with a searching, questioning and appreciative mind?

During the play Marshall, arguing the law, says in exasperation, “I am sick of saving the white man’s soul.” All of our souls could use a little saving. Marshall found salvation in the law. Those of us of faith perhaps need to look to the good news found in our Bibles.