Hey Readers! Baptisms & Dogs: Stories is FREE for 4 days only on Kindle (and Kindle phone reading apps) starting NOW (3/11–Sunday 3/15)!! Be sure to add it to your device, if you haven’t already and enjoy. All that’s asked in return…a review if you have the time on Amazon. Happy Wednesday people! Click link to see/add book below:
AUDIObook coming soon!! (It’s in the final mixing stages.)
Not but a few weeks after that “Me, Myself, and Irene” experience in the summer of 2003 (see, Playing Possum), I had the chance of a lifetime…
To go to Brazil!
Imperatriz, Brazil. Population 250,000, and the second largest city in the Maranhao state. Its hottest and coldest months both occurring during what are our summer months here in the States. It was a truly tropical experience complete with Amazonian rainforests, cave iguanas, and a few pythons along the way. (I still can’t believe that tour guide didn’t tell us about one he saw, while Allison was injured. She definitely would’ve been the weakest link had things gone awry.)
Anyways…this was more than just a luxury trip.
It was a trip with a purpose. No one on the team had taken it lightly. Its duration was 2 weeks from beginning to mid-August, and most importantly, it was a mission trip. (I’d even been blessed enough to have someone support my costs for the trip and pay my way for it!) So, there was great focus within our team going into Imperatriz with willing hearts.
—
We arrived in Brazil, and it was hot! But, hot in a good way. Have you ever experienced a good heat? I know. I usually hate hot temperatures, too. But, I can safely say this was the first (and only) time in my life where the temps climbed well above 90-100 F, and the sun baked a person rather than microwaved them. There was coconut milk served directly from coconut vendors and plastic straws poking from the tops of them.
There were tarantulas just chilling on the park lawns where couples looked longingly into one another’s eyes unconcerned. (I was educated that big spiders to us were just babies to Brazilians and harmless if left unbothered.)
Then, we met the people. The Brazilian people were the BEST! I can say that, because I grew up with some of the nicest folks in the entire US in southern KY, and I’m being honest. (No offense Mom!)
Brazilians were happy about everything. As a culture, they hugged. You couldn’t be introduced to someone new without expecting open arms to receive you. It was something we all (even the most reserved of us…even though most of us were pretty outgoing) grew accustomed to by the trip’s end.
We returned hugs, laughter, and smiles. The Imperatriz village– where we had revival–accepted us every night for testimonies and sharing our life stories. It was a tremendous blessing. (Remember, I had just survived NYC, the VHS incident with my old Coach, and my letting one of my mentor’s down, see Playing Possum).
Then, my antics returned. I lost my head.
Maybe it was the 100-degree heat, or, JT waking me up with his humming in the middle of the nights in our hotel. Maybe it was the authentic Passion Fruit juice that we all drank before heading out into the villages each morning without knowing it was, in fact, a sedative. (That would explain the concerned looks that the locals gave us at breakfast time each morning when we drank it by the gallons.) Maybe it was the beans and rice, although I highly doubt it. I loved all of it: Brazil. Even the steakhouses. Especially the steakhouses!
But, no, it wouldn’t be something that objective.
It was simply my ego.
Do you have one of those?
Sure you do. And I know it’s not always as weird as the Freudian label it wears. Plain and simple…it’s one’s self, one’s awareness of self and its comparison to others.
Well, I thought I was doing fairly well with my self/ego/what-have-you, when I discovered that the Brazilian’s altruism and compassion seemed to be unending.
As others would return from the villages and share the updates of their talks with families and bonding and witnessing, I would keep hearing locals talk about how similarly me and another in the group resembled the locals’ favorite US pop artists at the time. (It is important to state that Brazilians loved US pop music of the 80s and early 90s variety, and it was still basically current to them in 2003.) And, a large part of our mission held singing and skit components, and I vividly remember us walking back to the tour bus…like the Beatles or something and kids shouting at us through the bus windows.
They yelled things at Jennifer in our group, and we finally understood they were chanting “Amy Grant! Amy Grant!”
to her.
They pointed at me, and again, the ego took hold of me. Unlike Jennifer, I didn’t quite resist the urge to wave and remain on the bus. (That would’ve been too sensible, remember?) So, I listened to their chants and I heard, “Justin! Justin Timberlake!”
Without knowing what I was doing, I was back off the bus and waving like an ignoramus at the kind, affectionate crowd.
I still remember our preacher’s soft, reaffirming word in my ear, as we re-boarded the bus that day, “Brian. Remember why we’re here. OK?”
I heard him. I mean, genuinely, I did. But, I couldn’t turn down the fans. Right? I was too naive (no, immature fits better). Even later in the week, while Jennifer took the high road, I kept on pursuing my fame and not-so-much fortune. I answered to their calls of “Justin!” and even sang a few NSync songs for the kids.
Disgusting, I know.
The real clincher in this whole charade. Worse than the pretending to be a celebrity, egging it on, and not following Jennifer’s lead the first 15 times was the final reminder.
We’ll call it an eternal one for added emphasis.
We arrived back in the States. Pictures were developed. Oh, don’t you love how pictures can truly encompass where we were (good or bad) at any given moment in time? Pictures were developed using a very cool, modern option called 1-hour photo. Remember that?
And what do I find but a picture of my buddy, our preacher, and me all smiling. Then, I see that it’s been developed using an even cooler feature of 2003, the panoramic photo feature. So, off to the side of JT, a boy he’d just led to Christ, and Coy, you see me. –> A goofy sticker stuck (for some reason to my face), a big cheesy grin, and an ink pen in my hand.
What am I doing you ask?
Signing an autograph.
On our mission trip.
Where countless decisions were made inside those 2 weeks that were life-altering for friends in Imperatriz and JT took this picture as a memory. And you have me putting my John Hancock on a card to a small boy who undoubtedly thought I sang “Bye, Bye, Bye” for a living.
—
I look back on this knowing that JT and I have laughed about this picture 100s of times. Not because it’s something that should be encouraged, but because of how much we (and yes, I) didn’t know about life. Clueless. The picture still rests on the mantel above the fireplace at home in Monticello. Mom displays my highlights and lowlights alike. And, I love her for it.
If you encounter praise or shame, and I know most of us could already fill several books with our experiences thus far, let it be what it is, and work through it. I think of that picture and laugh every time. JT doesn’t find it quite as funny, but he still laughs.
To: Justin Timberlake, you have my sincerest apologies for impersonating you during the summer of 2003.
Senior Trip, 2003.
My classmates had been subjected to my antics for the better part of a decade (see previous post titled, Flamesh). Our school (RIP) was a K-12 system with everyone in the same building’s infrastructure. I graduated with less than 50 peers.
We all knew one another.
Favorite foods, hobbies, nicknames, played sports together. It was a close-knit family moreso than an awkwardly large high school that you see in Class 3 through whatever number they go to now (5, 6, a bazillion). It was a great time. Imagine a school-setting where the student body was so close there really wasn’t room for the term clique to exist. Pretty amazing, now that I look back on it (and us being teenagers)!
So we took this trip (like every Monticello HS graduating class before us had done). We rushed onto a charter bus at the high school and departed for a week’s worth of adventures from southern KY to Washington DC to NYC. Our already close group learned every more about one another. Inside jokes were common knowledge on that bus. Assigned seats were non-existent, because everyone sat beside someone different at each stop it seemed.
In Virginia we goofed about Virginia is for Lovers signs. In Washington, DC, JT and yours truly were left behind at the Robert E. Lee exhibit. Then, we caught up to our bus, and we made it after another day or so to NYC.
Times Square, THE Howard Johnson cafe, and Broadway. The sky was the limit for us. The Milford Plaza was a beautifully maintained, older hotel situated right alongside Times Square, and we could just round corners and be in some other really exciting street, in this amazing town in seconds.
I remember many of us broke away from the pack and reconvened in Brooklyn for the Yankees game. I vividly remember sharing a frightful cab ride to CBGB’s (again, RIP) to see where the Ramones once played.
Then, we eventually came to week’s end and the return trip back to the land of plenty–Kentucky. On the departure from NYC, I had been savvy enough to drop in at the Virgin Record Store and pick up a VHS cassette for the trip home. (The on-board movie experience had been lacking on embarkation, and I wanted to remedy this. A VHS in 2003? I know, but it was the charter bus’ limitation [not my own lack of technology prowess.])
So, VHS in-hand–a Jim Carey flick, I booked it back onto the bus, and we headed to Monticello. Simple story, right? Nothing life-shattering about this.
Wrong.
I remember the excitement surrounding the option for a “new” movie. My classmates urged the senior sponsors on the trip (again, small school, so, sponsors were my own baseball coaches, teachers, and everyday mentors at church), and the VHS was pushed into the tape deck. And, I was equally excited…
Then, the movie started playing.
It was Me, Myself, and Irene.
Do you remember that one?
I surely didn’t, if I’d seen it before this moment. I remember getting nudged by my buddy, Adam, and him saying “Don’t you remember what’s in this one?”
And I just cleared my throat, and said, “It’s Jim Carey. It’ll be funny.”
He just said, “Oookay” like he knew something I didn’t, and it didn’t sound good.
The movie was rated ‘R,’ and it had some questionable stuff in it, but what made this til-the-day-I-die awkward was, again, our closely-knit group.
Have you ever wanted to be a good example?
I’m sure you have.
Have you ever felt like you let others down?
I’m two-for-two here.
On this bus, I remember the movie firing up, and having 23,000+ uses of the F-word, salacious content involving Jim Carey, and I must add that the movie’s content paled in comparison to the looks people were giving on the bus.
First off, I remember my baseball coach, asking pretty loudly, “Who would pick such filth?” for the entire cabin to hear.
No answer.
The movie played on.
It should be noted that also on this bus trip was my English teacher/youth leader at church/mentor/respected member of the community, and….his 10 year old daughter.
Yes. Dagger into the heart.
The movie played on, and a few more scandalous events happened.
Again, baseball coach stands up, “Who would pick such filth?” And then yells for the VHS to be “STOPPED!”
At this point, I’m past the pointed of baffled/startled/embarrassed. So, I do the only thing a man at the end of his rope can do…I played dead.
Coach walked up and down the aisles begging for the culprit to come forward. He asked everyone, “Who did this? It’s okay if you share it with me. They need to be talked to,” he said.
Surprisingly, my amazing friends stuck to their guns. I had head down, resting on the seat cushion, and I remember my eyes were pinched shut, trying to will Coach away.
I heard, “Wake Tucker up!”
Alex nudged me and I “woke up,” and I said in my best, concerned voice to Coach, “What’s the matter? What happened, Coach?”
He could see I was sweating; he wagged his finger in a “Follow me” gesture to the front of the bus. I stood on shaky knees and obliged him.
I looked at my English teacher as I passed him (and his daughter’s seat), and he didn’t make eye contact. Still to this day, I’m apologetic about the “Me, Myself, and Irene” experience. It was truly a sad, detrimental day.
But, I hope some can now look back on it and see, just how wonderfully awkward life can be. Especially the teen years.
Have you had anything so horrific happen to you that you played possum, or, faked being alive?
That trip to NYC was a great bit of closure to a wonderful high school experience, and even though it had its blunders, I wouldn’t trade that group of people, in that place and time, for anything in the world.
I had this idea in middle school that was umm…unique.
Call me a trend-setter. Maybe just a weirdo. Maybe 20 years before the hipster movement.
I had this innate desire to be as comfortable as possible in school. (Doesn’t everyone?)
Some were choosing to wear pjs to school and others were bringing in their Abercrombie & Fitch threads, but not this guy.
Looking back on it now, I obviously wasn’t choosing to win the award for most cool lad at school.
Why? you ask.
Simple. I was trying to start a trend that would’ve rivaled Gretchen’s attempts to make Fetch happen in Mean Girls. It was cool in my own mind, but in actuality, anything but.
See, I had this desire to throw down the fashion gauntlet.
…I wanted to combine flannel and mesh.
Yes. You heard that right.
Those two comfortable fabrics. Worn together and side-by-side. Flannel up top. Mesh on bottom.
Fla-mesh. Or, Flamesh.
—
It was born overnight. I remember watching Seinfeld and seeing George Costanza’s love for velvet, and his interest in being draped in the comfortable material. His lengths of wearing the stuff everywhere around NYC gave me hope for my quest.
So, the next Monday, I took a navy and goldenrod colored flannel shirt and navy mesh ball shorts and put them together. The combination was mesmerizing (to me).
I awoke early and was dressed before anyone else in the house could protest. (I thought my older brother would think this the best idea I’d ever summoned.)
I hopped on the school bus, rode the hour-plus distance from the country to the city, and tried my best to walk confidently into the gymnasium, before the bell sounded.
Entering the gymnasium, I felt a lump in my throat, but I swallowed and remembered telling myself that there wasn’t anything to worry about, because this was the best fashion-trend EVER discovered. Better even than George’s velvet idea.
It would become the hit of the 90s; the envy of all other students.
I rounded the corner and remembered the looks of my best friends. Their reactions were priceless. I remember the stares. (They were the longing looks of people saying: I wish I’d thought of that!
It should be noted that this was also occurring on the same day as a school photo. I had planned the reveal strategically of course.
So…the announcement was made over the intercom to make our way into the auditorium, and I did so hurriedly. (I had used Sun-In dye on the front of my hair, and it had taken on an orange/rusty yellow coloring from the night before.) I pushed up to the front of the 6th grade line and donned my flamesh for everyone to see. I actually remember the photographer doing a double-take.
I thought it was a look of pure envy. I’ve even made the picture guy realize where fashion could go, I thought.
My classmates, I realize now, didn’t put up a fight against my rush to get to the front of the line, because they knew something I didn’t.
I couldn’t really see how flamesh looked on someone wearing IT.
The pictures were developed and Jostens, Olan Mills, or someone delivered them to the homeroom class a few weeks later. I remember a few people elbowing me in the weeks leading up to the delivery and saying stuff like, “You excited about them pictures? I wouldn’t be,” and “How’s that new style going?” I realized their tones of skepticism, but I wish I’d looked in the mirror more closely and seen the fashion statement.
To put it bluntly, flamesh was a no go!
I got the pictures back, and I remember getting a huddle of classmates around me, shouldering for a glimpse at the awesomeness. And, it was…not awesome.
There was a small boy, orange cream sicle-colored hair, pointy teeth, and a confused jumble of clothes. The ball shorts and short-sleeved flannel stripes all kinda ran together. I was half smiling, half smirking like Chandler Bing. It was a look that said: I know this looks better than anything else…plus, it feels good.
The truly sad part of this adventure in trend-setting is that it really was the most comfortable outfit I’ve ever worn. But…the picture goes down as a monumental reason for why style isn’t everything. I still have that lesson-learned in a photo album back at home. It’s funny and somehow still able to trigger a vulnerability in me. George Costanza and I both learned a lesson in comfort and image.
Fla-mesh. May you rest-in-peace. You were 20 years ahead of your time, and the world simply wasn’t ready for you.
If you have pictures of a similar disaster, feel free to share them with me. It could be a great laugh together!
Origin, 1932.
The word newsworthy is fairly self-explanatory. It’s adjectival meaning directly describing something that is considered “news + worthy”. My question for today:
What is newsworthy to you?
I picked up a copy of the USA Today (today). The Weekend one. Yes. They lump today, 3/6 together with 7 & 8 in anticipation of news over the weekend.
Today’s copy does encompass the story about the 127 passengers that avoided a near-fatal landing on the front page. Yet, above even this “Icy Escape in New York” heading and parallel to the USA Today Weekend logo is the update of “Harrison Ford hurt in L.A. plane crash…Actor ‘battered’ but OK, son says”.
Given the placement and its proximity to the Today’s logo, it would be appropriate to consider this the most newsworthy update of the weekend, would it not?
Don’t get me wrong. I love Harrison Ford. I’m glad he’s OK. Yes. I love him in pretty much anything he’s ever starred in. But, the gloves must come off somewhere. He’s 70something years old. Had the choice to fly the plane, and even was fortunate enough to come away from the accident OK. His son being able to confirm this might permit it to be enough to call it minor news…tuck it away in Section E of the Entertainment section?
My point for bringing this up is simple. In 1932, the word newsworthy held meaning in its controversial first year. Like most words it suffered from overuse and took on a much less certain definition like words such as “wish” and “hope” do today. Think about what topics come to mind when you hear the word newsworthy in 2015. Does it have something to do with truly spectacular (or sadly, sometimes horrendous) events? Events on both ends of the news spectrum? We know 2015 has events “interesting enough to report to the general public,” and boy, do they. But, let’s keep this word away from lukewarm, everyday overuse.
Here’s a list of some of the newsworthy events that occurred in 1932:
**These are all *ahem* newsworthy events. Heck, even April was skipped, I guess, because nothing notable (or, big enough) shook the foundations of journalism that month.
***I’d like to also add that this was the year Oxford English Dictionary gave its first citation of the plural noun “cojones”, found in Hemingway’s 1932 Death in the Afternoon.
Maybe if we choose to become more selective in our descriptions of events (or, even better, more restrained), then, we can discover news again and appreciate it for all of its insight and remarkable coverage.
I’m a 90s child. Don’t really fit with GenX and don’t quite enjoy the label of Millennial like a lot of my peers. But…I do embrace the pop culture of the 90s and all of its wonderful slices of nostalgia. I’m going to list some of this awesomeness below, and I’d love it if you could join me in a.) reminiscing, b.) realizing what an oddball 90s kids really were, or, c.) embracing a childhood you might’ve never had but now wish you did, as a result of this terrific era.
Here we go! (rolling shirt sleeves back)
You are a 90s kiddo if you–
Watched: Boy Meets World on TV every Friday on ABC (TGIF)
Walked: with a cassette Walkman strapped to your belt loop (my cassette of choice was The Rembrandt’s LP (yes, the band that did the Friends theme song))
Ate: at Pizza Hut for parties, played arcade games, and garnered Land Before Time puppets while devouring The Bigfoot pizza
Read: books because BookIt existed and the prize for reading a lot of books was a free personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut each and every week….EVERY week (see above)
Traveled: with a Game Boy that only offered games in black-n-white colors and only lasted until the Duracells ran out
Sang: the theme song of Reading Rainbow even when there wasn’t a TV anywhere around (didn’t matter) Where is Levar Burton these days?
Believed: “The truth was (really) out there” thanks to Mulder and Scully
Still turn your head: when you hear ducks quacking and think of Coach Gordon Bombay…Emilio!
Don’t: ever want to see a Ring Pop ever again!
Are OK: with “living in a van down by the river”
Paint: with the voice of Bob Ross echoing inside your head
Look: for the Daily Double no matter what board games you might be playing
Still look for: Slime Time as a portion of Nickelodeon’s broadcasting efforts
Legitimately: miss birthday cakes and cookies (the shortbread ones) from McDonald’s earlier years
Perform: all of the Robin Williams voice overs in Aladdin
Saw: Home Alone 1 in a theater and dreamed of coordinating your own attacks against The Wet Bandits
Memorized: Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise” just in case it was requested at a rap-off
Wanted: Parachute pants but…never bought parachute pants
Remember: who Sisqo was. what song Sisqo sang.
Had: striking resemblances to Michael Bolton and Billy Ray Cyrus in 3rd – 5th grade. “Don’t touch the hair!”
Know: what Napster is. Was.
Recognize the name: Picabo Street
Still say: “Bo knows”
Took vitamins: to be like the Flintstones
Wore: pants backwards like Kriss Cross
Owned: a fisherman’s hat, not for fishing, but to be legitimate
Favored: R.L. Stine over anything else in the library
Hated: the sound of dial-up Internet but knew it would work most of the time
Screened: phone calls on the ‘home’ phone thanks to No Doubt
Drank Gatorade: like Mike
Drank Surge: because you weren’t supposed to (P.S. it’s back!!)
Heard the words: “Finish him” even in your sleep
Owned: Walkie Talkies to converse in the yard with your buddies
And last, and certainly not least–
Witnessed: Crystal Pepsi and the end of the 90s
If you want, you can join us if you don’t have this terrific decade to call home. If this scares you at all, I recommend sticking with the memories that were made for you elsewhere.
Regardless, we 90s folk know that it was a beautiful marker in this fine country’s history. If only we could latch onto more wonderful (excluding Crystal Pepsi) ideas in the future, we know the next generation will be in good hands as well.
Take some time and reflect on a decade that still feels like it encapsulated so much more than just 10 years. Add some shows on Netflix and relive the awkwardness. I still can’t believe I had as many Super Soakers and Nerf guns as I did.
Wonderful!
Yesterday, we explored the journey that a hero must undertake in any great story. Likewise, we discussed heroic feats of greats such as Neo from The Matrix, Frodo, and Luke Skywalker.
Those that represent the light. We cheer for them, because we are able to assimilate their victory into our own lives. If young Skywalker wins…we all do. If Frodo destroys the one ring, then, Sauron is gone. It’s an exciting end to an epic saga.
The way it should be.
But, what happened to make the ending so sweet in each tale?
Why was the victory so satisfying? The win awe-inspiring?
I’ll save you the lecture on rising conflict and plot points, but suffice it to say that one thing made each hero’s journey so utterly monumental and terrific–
The Villain.
Yes. I love the cry that we sometimes hear from the bad guy camps around the cinematic (and literary) world: “Hey! We’re people too!”
It’s true. The bad guys make the story a lot of times. Think about it.
They are all villains drawn up to make the hero’s journey even more epic. The more 3-D a villain becomes it allows the storyline to become even richer. The rising conflict reaches a peak that draws the reader/audience into the turmoil.
Look at how much Anakin Skywalker changes from Phantom Menace (Star Wars 1) to Revenge of the Sith (3). He becomes Darth Vader. Not just a small shift from bad-to-worse but a complete overhaul as a person. The once highly touted Jedi is no more. The seduction of the dark side is too much for him. And thus, a villain for the ages is born.
I want to keep using Darth Vader as an example of the magnificent height that a villain can reach in making a storyline epic. Yes. He gives in to the dark side. But, his journey started as a Hero’s Journey.
Talk about a twist of fate, right?
Anakin was set on a course for greatness…to become a Jedi respected by all. Yet, instead of delivering on those promises, he crushes them. Anakin becomes Darth Vader and rejects peace for war. He unleashes a hell on the goodness around him, and he casts his quest for heaven aside.
It’s heartbreaking and…uniquely its own take on the “hero gone astray” motif. But…there is redemption.
*Spoiler alert*
Darth sees his son Luke in trouble with the Emperer and saves him from death. As a result of his spiritual change, Darth is restored as Anakin Skywalker just before his death. The hero-turned-villain-turned-hero has come full circle. It isn’t something we’re used to seeing in literature (or film), and the range of this villain makes for one of the best examples of all-time.
Please take in this next part, because it isn’t the model of a villain existing for the sole purpose of giving the hero some opposition, someone to fight. Yeah. The fighting is nice and battle sequences are, too. But, it’s the humanity of the villain that makes the story so well-balanced.
Again, think of your favorite story of all-time.
Got one?
Now…imagine that story without the villain roaming around, wreaking havoc.
Is it as good?
I surely hope not.
Stories given 5-stars, 2 Thumbs up, 10/10 ratings have a beginning, middle, and end. The characters depart, initiate, and return. But, the truly great ones also have flesh-and-blood good guys and bad guys fighting for their lives.
And sometimes the bad guys might’ve once been good guys and aren’t quite sure how to become good guys again…And just maybe…they do learn by the end of the tale.
Joseph Campbell claimed that heroes endure 17 stages in a journey, which in turn, constitutes a novel, trilogy, etc.
17 stages. 3 main headings: Depart, Initiate, Return.
How many of these are recognizable steps as you think about your favorite book, movie, TV show?
The stages being:
I: Departure –The call to adventure!
II: Initiation–Road of trials
III: Return –Refusal to Return
If you analyze this 17-stage process like George Lucas did, you will definitely see the symmetry between his storytelling in Star Wars and the Departure, Initiation, and Return of young Luke Skywalker.
Similarly, you can note these changes in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy as Frodo embarks on his quest to Mount Doom, and in The Matrix, as Neo realizes he is The One.
There are specific stages that heroes must endure, in order to accomplish the tasks set before them.
What is your favorite example of Campbell’s detailed process? Do you have a story that works so seamlessly within this system that you almost forget there’s a storyline behind it?
Maybe that’s the secret of the world’s greatest storytellers…seamlessness.
If a story can be told so flawlessly that we forget we’re being led through Middle Earth, battling the White Witch in Narnia, we’re related to Darth Vader, and/or no longer need to dodge bullets, then, we can fully believe that the 17 stages aren’t what’s most appealing about the journey, but the entire journey itself.
I re-read these stories (and re-watch their film adaptations), and I appreciate the genius behind their storylines each time. Essentially, the 2-D becomes 3-D to the reader/viewer in each rare example. There aren’t any glaring holes or glitches like we used to find in our beloved early video games (RIP Contra).
It’s storytelling of the highest order. I ask again if you have a favorite example that can be put through this 17-stage ringer and come out relatively unscathed, up to par?
No story is completely perfect, but many have the makings of it. Only a select few reach us at a level where we appreciate their creation…marvel at the brilliance of a world newly discovered.
Etiquette.
Not a word that gets thrown around as much in 21st century living as it did a few hundred years ago.
Imagine the streets flooded with men wearing top hats and tipping them at passersby to show their acknowledgement and respect for other forms of human life–not just their own.
The act of holding open a door so that others might enter before oneself was a thoughtful gesture but also a sign of dignity and valuing others.
The golden rule: Do unto others…as you’d have them do unto you.
Politeness was a sign of good decorum. It was reflective of good breeding.
Nowadays, when I think of the word etiquette I immediately think up images of where the salad fork should rest in formal dining settings, and where a server stands while pouring drinks for restaurant patrons.
This isn’t really the context of etiquette that I wanted to discuss. But, I’m sure there’s a right way to eat with 3 different-sized forks, if the situation requires it. (Let’s save that conversation for another time.)
I want to just think about the word holistically, and what it used to mean in 1750, when it was derived from the Old French word estiquette: “prescribed behavior” or, just plain, old good manners.
In the southern US, etiquette often became ingrained with societal rules and conventions, and these weren’t necessarily bad things. Sure, the styles of dress, usage of proper English, and day-to-day etiquette were reflective of a much different US, but the overarching message was still the same.
The golden rule applied then like it does today, 3/2/2015. People still love to have doors held open for them, elevators halted, and places in line saved. Regardless of whether someone is wearing a top hat and 3-piece suit or UK ball cap and blue jeans, the hospitality (and heart behind it) is what matters most.
It’s true that a top hat is a lot of fun, and I pray everyone starts wearing them in 2015 like they did in the past. But, I think a person’s heart is still intact in 2015, despite our change in dress and lifestyle. We might not look as good in our day-to-day functioning as our forefathers did, but we haven’t forgotten our etiquette altogether.
The French got something right in 1750 when they pointed out this trait and gave it a name.
Good old manners.
They’re not something that should ever go out of style. Whether you choose to play on your cell phone while walking out into a busy intersection or forget to wash your hands at a greasy buffet, common sense still applies today.
Ask yourself: Am I hurting others with my actions? Think of that golden rule and ask: Would I do this to myself? Truly? Or, am I treating myself as being better than others?
It might make someone else’s day all the better, if you treated them like a king or queen. It will definitely make yours that way.
Today – I heard a message at church about being someone else’s keeper…being beholden to someone else. In the case of the Old Testament, it’s depicting the story of Cain and Abel and Cain not owning up to telling where his brother, Abel, was, when asked. (He actually killed his brother out of jealousy and envy.)
This is an extreme case, but still one worth noting where selfishness and self-centeredness can lead a person. It’s fairly safe to say, we have a love affair with egocentrism in our country.
Let me clarify. Many of us have a real ongoing struggle with love of popularity. I know I do. It’s something I battle everyday. Facebook updates, over-booking my daily schedule with hobby-based activities, profile views on LinkedIn, etc. It’s all a status check daily, and it reminds me of the child-like attention craved in grade school.
Like I said, I wrestle with social media and it’s false sense of security. If you don’t wrestle with this, then, I am thankful that you are free of it (or, can balance it with real-world interactions).
At church today, we saw a video of a guy driving a sports car recklessly around a corner with a sharp bluff below, and an on-board camera showing him going over the bluff and crashing. The camera gave us a vantage point that we really (as an audience) didn’t want.
It was a reminder (to me) that life is more than just profile updates and social media feeds. Also, it showed me that people looking out for one another is an essential part of living on this planet. No person is an island unto themselves (thank you, Mr. John Donne). We need others in our lives that can invest and mentor us and vice versa.
Someone should not only be our brother’s keeper but we should be someone else’s too. It’s the way life was meant to be lived. In a community. With real human beings. When a friend drives off a bluff, we shouldn’t stop to watch from a safe distance, but instead, we should run to help them. Letting Cain’s issue with loving his brother Abel be a lesson to us, we should love those in our lives that genuinely are there for us, and continue to be beholden to those that want us around as mentors.
Happy March 1! -Brian
