The Unclad Soul

“But a little faith will see you through. What else will do except faith in such a cynical, corrupt time? When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word. What is the last word, then? Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things: through cooking and small talk, through storytelling, making love, fishing, tending animals and sweet corn and flowers, through sports, music and books, raising kids—all the places where the gravy soaks in and grace shines through. Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.” ~ Garrison Keillor

There is a scene in the famous series, “Mad Men,” where Don Draper and Roger Sterling are sitting in Don’s office having a drink. Don is an advertising genius and ad man. Roger inherited the agency from his father, and though plenty smart, he sort of just provides advice and insights to the rest of the staff. He and Don are talking about the firm and the problems they are facing with both old and new clients. As Don pours them a drink, they have this exchange: Roger : I bet daily friendship with that bottle attracts more people to advertising than any salary you can dream of. Don : It's the way I got in. Roger : So enjoy it. Don : I'm doin' my best here. Roger : No, you're not. You don't know how to drink. Your whole generation, you drink for the wrong reasons. My generation, we drink because it's good, because it feels better than unbuttoning your collar, because we deserve it. We drink because it's what men do. Don : What about shaky hands, ...

The recent presidential election has left people stunned and many frightened and worried. I have friends telling me how alarmed they are and wondering what is going to happen to all of us. Especially, what will happen to women, to immigrants, to minorities? What will the Supreme Court turn into? And what damage will an unbalanced Court in favor of extreme Republicans do to women’s rights, to the LGBT community, to freedom of speech and other Constitutional rights? Will the police turn even more brutal, completely unleashed to commit crimes against the innocent, without any restraints or punishment? People are angry, panicky, despondent. I think of Hamlet’s gloomy speech where he despairs of earth and people and life: “This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent cong...

I am making my way through the AMC Mad Men series. I saw the original series when it first came out almost ten years ago. Now I’m watching it again on Netflix. I knew what I was in for. Since the presidential election I have been trying to better understand myself, others, and my country. The ugly bitterness of the election left me emotionally exhausted, and frankly, disappointed in people in general. I didn’t follow the chaos on Twitter, but Facebook was a primeval jungle of crude squabbling, angry rants, malicious name calling, and endless acts of blocking and unfriending people. Some of them relatives and close friends. So after all of that, I decided to wander into Mad Men, the perfect setting for seeing the absolute worst in human hurt, pettiness, jealously, manipulation and betrayal. I thought that there, I might get some understanding of why, in certain circumstances, we sink, almost unconsciously and hopelessly, into such abysmal and damaging behavior. Don Draper, ...

I visited my brother, Jim, in Oklahoma City this week. I have mentioned here that he has myotonic dystrophy, a slow degenerative disease of the muscles. He fell a few months ago and has been recovering. He is now in a nursing center and will not be able to return to his home where he lived alone. Because the lungs are muscles too, his are weak and failing. So he is on oxygen now around the clock. He wears one of those small tubes inserted in his nostrils that wrap around his ears. You don’t notice it after a while. I hope he doesn’t either, though at times, his breathing is labored. He does notice that, as I do, and my heart wilts momentarily for him until the air returns smoothly again. We had a good visit. We of course talked politics, how does anyone avoid that after the national shame we’ve all endured? He did not vote. He was struggling with his injury and simply was not able to absentee vote. But we talked about how he would have voted and how I voted. It was a good disc...

Let it be said, by me, by all of us, that we will not sit silently by and watch our country be shredded by ignorance and cowardice, by hate and violence, by meanness and cruelty, or by discrimination, sexism, ageism, barbarity and intimidation. The election of Donald Trump is not now an invitation for all of us to be punks and jackasses and beasts. For those who think they will have in the White House someone who will defend indecency, bigotry, and lawlessness, be warned: you will be confronted and opposed. For those who think Trump as president is now your right to mock and piss on and shame, him and those who support him, get hold of yourselves. This is not a time for juvenile rants and petty retaliation. Respect for the Office of President, reverence for the Constitutional framework of our government, must be honored. If we play this game of seeing who can beat up the other, whether in words, photos, memes, or actual deeds of violence and cruelty, then we do not have a ...

In my sleep, I was visited by a man in a flannel shirt with autumn colors in small squares. He wore a solid brown necktie unloosed at the collar. His hair was white and bushy, sort of like Einstein’s. He smoked a pipe and had the voice of Gandalf, Ian McKellen’s great character in The Lord of the Rings. There was nothing menacing or alarming about his presence. He spoke softly, quietly. His face was rugged and carried deep lines of age and wisdom.  His eyes, blue and intense, were nevertheless warm with soft light in them. He reminded me of my maternal grandfather whom I called Pop, a big loving man with a deep Southern drawl. I told the gentleman this and he said, “You can call me Pop if you want.” I said, “Ok.” “What troubles you?” he asked, as he put fresh tobacco in his pipe and lit it. It smelled of cherries or cloves or something sweet and delicious. “I wonder if I got it all wrong,” I said. “How so; got what wrong?” “People. Life. Meaning,” I said, a...