One Thousand Splendid Lives

On C-SPAN 2 the other night, writer and radio talk show host Garrison Keillor was speaking at the American Library Association Conference. He made the point that we read in order to have more lives than one. I could not agree with him more. I am sure in my lifetime I have lived at least a thousand splendid lives (though some were not so splendid) as I have identified with the complex literary characters who were protagonists of fiction.

As a young girl who was fascinated by biographies, I was Marie Curie working in the laboratory diligently with her husband Pierre to discover polonium and radium. I was Abraham Lincoln who struggled with the issues of keeping the union together and the possibility of freeing the slaves. I was Lou Gehrig as he uttered his famous words in Yankee Stadium, "I am the luckiest man alive" after disclosing his battle with ALS.

As a young woman, I centered my reading on Gothic literature by Victoria Holt or perhaps Charlotte Bronte. I was always the woman running along the cliffs of the English countryside being pursued by the man who might be either my murderer or my hero. Thankfully, it was always the latter in these formula pieces.

As I became an English major in college, my reading shifted to the heavy, complex pieces with far more complicated heroines. My favorites were Anna Karenina who threw herself onto a railroad track because of her affairs and Madam Bovary who could never get out of debt and who also chose suicide as an escape.

My latest identification with a literary character is Cormac McCarthy's The Road. This fiction piece won a Pulitzer Prize this last spring. I cannot say that I enjoyed the struggle of a father and son in a post nuclear world who were doing their best to survive as two of the good people left on earth. I can say that the novel was so well written as to be spellbinding. It is precisely this identification with characters that compels us to imagine our own actions in such a world. Would we kill to protect ourselves and our food, or would we acquiesce to circumstances and simply give up?

It is these and other questions that keep us reading and essentially living one thousand splendid lives and counting.

The Transformative Power of Art

I had been wanting to see the German film The Lives of Others for several months now. Somehow my husband and I had missed it at the art film house several months ago when it was playing, so I was quite happy to see its return this week to our $1 theater in Little Rock. Its basic premise raises the question of whether or not it is possible for anyone to truly change. To test the thesis, the film's writer features an East German STASI agent in the early 1980's who is given an assignment to spy on a stage writer and his lover actress in order to test their loyalty to the government. The character's name is Gerd Wiesler, a lonely man with no other life other than his work. As the film progress, Wiesler discovers a compelling narrative in the lives of others and experiences the transformative power of art.

The film uses a quote early on that basically states Lenin could not have carried out his plans for the revolution had he listened to Beethoven too often. The power of that sentiment is almost heart stopping in my opinion. I attribute my own awakening to the power of art to a bout with the red measles when I was around eight. My sister Judy and I had spent a good two weeks a dark apartment without reading anything in order to protect our eyesight from possible damage. The morning I was able to emerge like a cocoon from this environment, I noticed the magnificent colors of spring, most notably the true yellow daffodils, the green grass, and the azure sky. I had never seen anything more beautiful. I believe music, art, films, and books have this transformative power upon us. Essentially, many of us are blind, living in a darkened world, until we begin to rise like Phoenixes from the ashes of our dull lives to see the beauty possible through art.

For the character of Wiesler, the transformation comes not only from a realization of the rich love shared between the playwright and his love as he spies upon them each day, but also from the Sonata for a Good Man played one night by the playwright. Wiesler changes from that point on to become a protector for the couple, even to the point of giving up his own career mobility, by withholding information from the state. So, yes, the answer to the initial question is an affirmative: art can change a person's life.

Too Heavy for Mercy - A Tale of Two Jessies

Two stories have been in the news this week which have led me to think more about the nature of crime and forgiveness. One is the murder thirty months ago of little Jessie Lunsford in Florida, who was buried alive by the murderer, and the other is Jessie Davis, the pregnant mother, who was recently killed in Ohio reportedly by her lover, Bobby Cutts. I have noticed two opposing views from the affected family members. Patricia Porter, mother of Jessie Davis, stated that she will not harbor hate for the perpetrator, "I feel like if God can't forgive Bobby Cutts, then he can't forgive any of us." On the other hand, in asking for his daughter's killer to receive the death penalty, Mark Lunsford stated that some crimes were "too heavy for mercy." My question is, "Does God find some crimes too heinous to forgive?"

One of the perpetrators I have always had difficulty with is Ted Bundy who killed numerous women in the Northwest over a number of years, often posing as a clean cut young man who needed help from the women because of an injury. The night before his execution he requested a final interview with psychologist James Dobson. In that interview, he spoke of his newly found faith in Christ. I shutter to think that I will see him in heaven dressed in white and singing with the angels.

What is the evidence that God forgives all sins--if asked to do so by the sinner? One verse and one example will probably suffice, although many others might be also cited from Scripture. The verse we are most familiar with is from I John, Chapter One, Verse Nine, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." And, yes, that adjective is correct: all. That means even murder of an innocent child or a helpless woman. The other most well-known example is that of the thief on the cross who is given a promise of Paradise by Christ even as He himself is being crucified.

In our own imperfection as Christians, but in our striving to become more like Him, we struggle with sins that are seemingly "too heavy for mercy." We long to pronounce the worst punishment possible. But then we realize--He is God, and we are not.

Eyeing Tammy Faye

Tammy Faye Bakker Messner was in the spotlight in evangelical communities for the past thirty years or so. I always felt she and her husband at the time, Jim Bakker, were not genuine in their faith. All of the showiness of their PTL network and program did not fit in well with my ideas of Jesus' model and ministry. I have learned, however, through observing the couple in recent years to eye them now with respect--and even admiration.

We are taught, of course, that difficulties breed faith--true faith. I believe this to be true although very often, for myself, I wish the learning curve did not include any hardships. For Jim, the lessons of humility, and poverty, came after the uncovering of his affair with his secretary, Jessica Hahn, and his subsequent stint in jail for his unsavory business deals--mail and wire fraud--connected with Heritage USA, his theme park. For Tammy Faye, I suspect Jim's trials were also her trials. In addition, she was diagnosed with colon cancer in the mid-nineties. Later, she told the world her cancer had returned and that she was now suffering from lung cancer.

It was only after the rejection of the conservative evangelical community for the crimes connected to their ministry that both Jim and Tammy Faye began to see. They saw beyond their requests for donations to their ministry to the heart of the people of the world. Jim denounced his previous prosperity theology that he had formerly preached so diligently. Tammy Faye, in particular, was drawn to those who were outcasts and who were marginalized in some way by their respective communities. Gays especially were drawn to her, and she accepted them full hardily.

The cliche, "better late than never," seems particularly ironic for this couple. To their credit, both of their children seem to be solid in their faith. Their son Jay is a hip young tattooed evangelist who preaches to the biker crowd, and their daughter is a young mother, and singer, with several children.

The eyes of the world watched with horror last week as Tammy Faye made her final appearance with Larry King on CNN. She was a mere sixty-five pounds, woefully wrinkled, and gasping for every breath. Her eyes, however, were fully made up. We saw her for the last time. Even Larry, a Jew, was moved enough after her death to comment that she was now in the arms of the Lord.

If You Do Love Old Men

I have been thinking about the behavior of old men a lot lately for two reasons. One is that our family had a short reunion in Bella Vista, Arkansas, about a week ago, and my ninety-year-old father-in-law came down for it. Another is that I have been reading Virginia Stam Owens' story about her grandfather entitled If You Do Love Old Men. I have been amazed by all the similarities in behavior between the two.

My father-in-law has been rather senile for years now repeating the same old stories about his love for baseball and seeing Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig as a young boy. In addition, he frequently loses his bearings while trying to find a bathroom in a restaurant, and he also is developing some paranoid tendencies such as repeatedly obsessing over a single idea in his mind. Likewise, the protagonist in Owens' book is much the same--showing complete lack of sound judgment by wanting to "trade" his place with acreage in Texas for a three-room shack. I have also spoken by e-mail to my friend Meera who tells me that her paternal grandfather also shared these "old men" behaviors. Her theory is that inactivity breeds an inward psychological focus on the past.

Since the title of Owen's book is taken from Shakespeare's famous play King Lear, I have to admit that I have always felt a lot of sympathy for the "old man" as he raves to the storm and lightning regarding his daughters' neglect of him. It is true that the two daughters ignored him after receiving their share of Lear's estate. While we can never condone their actions, we can at least understand them in light of the old man's confusion and paranoia.

I wish there could be a medical answer for the families who care for their aging parents. Often, as in these three examples, the body is still relatively strong, but the mind--as Meera states--is transitioning to a better place. In the meantime, we must be patient and remember that, as medical science extends the number of years for all of us, we will be there ourselves one day as well. And that's a real wake-up call.

"Go home and be old"

Marilynne Robinson's Gilead features a key character, the grandfather of the narrator, who has a moment with God and believes God tells him, "Go home and be old." The grandfather had been a preacher and political activist for war during the Civil War. His son, in contrast, had been a staunch pacifist. I have been thinking lately about whether or not it is ever o.k. to just sit on one's front porch and do nothing for the rest of one's life.

On the one hand, as I reflect upon my thirty-five years of teaching in both public and private schools, I am tired. It is as simple as that. For years I have taught toddlers in Sunday School; worked with the Girls in Action at various churches in which we have been members; hosted backyard Bible clubs in the summer; taught a number of special studies for adults; hauled students around for various competitions, readings, and performances; cooked numerous breakfasts for student gatherings; visited the sick in hospitals; and counseled students extensively for both personal and academic reasons. Since retiring to Little Rock, I have worked briefly in a homeless ministry and a food and gift shelter at Christmas. I have hesitated to become more involved in these projects, I suppose, because of selfishness. I enjoy my new life and freedom to do what I want when I want, without being restricted by a heavily marked calender.

On the other hand though, I realize that I probably have more to give to others. Indeed I write in this blog "Rocking Chair Reflections" frequently about the need to be more of an activist in society. Can I be true to myself if I talk the talk without walking the walk any longer myself? Perhaps I have not found the right ministry to involve myself in. I will continue to reflect upon these questions.

Navigating Through the Flotsam of Life

Since our book club completed Marilynne Robinson's Gilead in the spring, I have been anxious to read her first novel, written some twenty-seven years ago now, entitled Housekeeping. It focuses on the story of two sisters who must, of necessity, navigate through the flotsam of life in order to survive.

Their grandfather, a railroad man, dies in a spectacular train accident in which the train sinks entirely into a glacial lake. Their mother deposits her small girls, Ruth and Lucille, on the front porch of the surviving grandmother's house and drives her car off a cliff. For a while the grandmother is able to care for the girls; then she dies leaving the care of the girls first to her own maiden sisters who cannot cope with two growing girls and later to the care of her youngest daughter, who is a transient. As the girls move into adolescence, Aunt Silvie's actions and neglect become increasingly bizarre. She collects magazines, cans, and bottles in the house as well as thirteen or fourteen cats. How can these girls survive in this maze of neglect?

It seems the younger girl, Lucille, is awakened to the fact that redemption comes in the form of education. She sets upon a plan for herself to sew her clothes, comb her hair, and leave home to live with her Home Economics teacher. Ruth, on the other hand, succumbs to the waywardness of her Aunt Silvie. Together they burn the old house down, catch a train, and resume a life of wandering.

Once more this story reminds me of the hundreds of children in our society who also live their lives as if they were "minimally existent." They are neglected by their caregivers, live solitary lives, and either become hopeless like Ruth or at best develop a plan to escape like Lucille. Again I am reminded of the importance of adults who care for and mentor these neglected children. Let us seek ways to assist these children through our volunteer efforts but, most importantly, our love and concern.

Divorce or Murder?

Many of us have been following the case of the preacher's wife, Mary Winkler, who shot her husband in the back, leaving him to bleed to death, and then took her three children on a vacation to the beach. What could have been the motivation for such a violent act we asked?

Another lesser known case of murder took place in Olathe, Kansas, back in 1982. Here the husband and wife slept together until an intruder cruelly bludgeoned the husband to death and left the wife unconscious. The case remained unsolved until recently when investigators reopened the file. The investigators put on trial a former student of Mid America Nazarene College. It appears that the student and the wife, an employee of the college, were emotionally involved with one another. They plotted to kill the husband, claiming it was the work of two African American intruders.

Although the two cases have more differences than similarities, i. e. Mary Winkler was a victim of sexual and physical abuse of her husband, Matthew, and the wife in the second case simply fell in love with someone else, they share one important similarity. Both families were members of very conservative evangelical churches where divorce has been considered anathema. In other words, in the perpetrators' minds, they would rather murder than divorce. In fact, Mary Winkler repeatedly told her father, with her head in her hands, "No, Daddy, I can work it out."

What legalistic rules are there in these churches that give wives (and their lovers) such a notion? Yes, the Bible speaks of wives' submitting to their husbands, but taken in context of the whole New Testament passage, it means to love their wives and to submit to them as well. Yes, families are important in the Scripture, and God has given many examples of His mending of families that have been torn asunder such as Adam and Eve, David and Bathsheba, Job, and Lazarus. The Bible also states in the book of Psalms that "God placeth the solitary in families."

Does that mean then that there is never a reason to leave one's spouse? Of course not, since the divorce rate in America already attests to the fact that many Americans take marital commitment too lightly and sometimes divorce on a whim. We need, however, to review our teaching in conservative churches and amend any impression that would convince spouses to stay together after adultery or physical and sexual abuse. It is o.k. to leave; it is certainly healthier.

The Best of Us and the Least of Us

I suppose it was inevitable that I write about the issue presented in Michael Moore's new documentary Sicko. While I was determined to go into the film with an open mind regarding the status of health care in the United States, I (and many of the audience as evidenced by the applause at the end of the film and comments such as, "Republicans, go right as you exit the theater") quickly joined in and acquiesced to Moore's viewpoint.

As typical in a Moore film (and I have been a fan of his since Roger and Me), he presents a number of people who share their stories with anecdotal evidence of their health care plight. Among the most poignant of these were two: a woman who pays over $100 for her medicine in the U.S. but pays only $.05 for it in Cuba and a couple who, after working years in separate careers, must sell their house and move in with a daughter. They now live in a room in the basement with the daughter, three children, and a husband soon to be deployed to Iraq living upstairs.

In regard to my husband's and my own budget for health care, we also fall into the group of people in the U.S. who are fully covered by health insurance but, nevertheless, are drowning in our retirement in health care costs per month. We pay out of pocket a minimum of $800 for Medicare coverage, supplemental insurance to cover deductibles, coverage for prescription medicine, my health care portion from my previous employer, dental insurance, cancer insurance, co-pays for doctors and medicine, and long term health care insurance. This figure amounts to around 30% of our monthly income.

The stats for America today says that an average man lives to be around 75 and a woman to 79.
I am not sure we can afford to live that long.

"We did what we needed to do."

I have been thinking about marriage today for two reasons: first, it is my husband's and my 42nd anniversary; and second, we saw the movie Evening on Friday afternoon of last week. I believe the reasons for marriage have changed significantly from the 1950's and 1960's until now.

The movie we saw featured an all-star cast including Vanessa Redgrave, Meryl Streep, and Glenn Close. We watched as the dying protagonist goes back in her thoughts to the time of her youth. Her best friend marries a man she does not love, yet she goes on to have three children and a good life with him. She herself also does not marry the man she has a brief affair with due to her desire to have a career and also the guilt she feels when her best friend's brother is killed. She, likewise, lives her life out with two husbands and two daughters and a mediocre singing career. When the best friend returns to say goodbye to her dying friend, she comforts her by saying, "We did what we needed to do." In other words, women during this time period (and mine) often did what society expected: get married, have children, and take care of husband and home.

I have to admit that when I married at age 20 I was also one of these women. My grandmother, whom I lived with for five years while I was in high school, gave me this advice upon my wedding, "Keep a clean house for your husband." At that time, I had no thought of having a career in teaching; I did want a degree but only "to fall back on" in case some catastrophic event happened to my husband. In the mid-sixties, however, our society was about to burst upon cultural changes that no one could have predicted: the influence of opponents of the Viet Nam War, the changing role of women into a new role as feminists, the advent of the hippie movement, and the marches for civil rights in the South. Indeed, just three years after our marriage, my husband and I were caught up and influenced by these cultural movements. No longer would we as women announce, "We did what we needed to do," but instead, "We did what we wanted to do."

I guess as we age we do think more about the choices we made while young. Sociologists frequently ask couples a favorite question, "If you had to do it again, would you marry your spouse again?" For me, it has been a good decision and a good life.