G.B.B.

“Where are your underwear?” she asked.

This is a true story (best I remember) of my short career in retail. It was near Christmas break of my sophomore year in college at the University of Tulsa. I noticed on a bulletin board in the student union that Sears was hiring seasonal help. I applied and got a job. After an orientation about the history of Sears and some basic training, I was given a name tag and assigned to the vinyl record/8-track tape department. That suited me just fine.

Christmas shopping was just beginning to get traction so there were times during my shift that things were pretty slow, giving me time to sort the records in their racks and do some browsing among the stereos adjacent to my department. It was here that I learned of a marketing strategy that Sears and other retailers, but especially Sears, used effectively. It was called the G-B-B plan: Good, Better, Best. On a shelf there would be three hi-fi systems or three lawnmowers or three cameras, A Good choice, a Better choice and the BEST. Each step up would add features, quality and a higher price tag. We’ll come back to this.

One night a couple came up to me and asked me to recommend a hi-fi system for their teen-aged son, a Christmas gift. In my browsing of the systems I had picked a favorite so I took them over to the shelf and pointed it out to them. They had some questions and I explained what I liked about it. As we were visiting, a real SalesMan came over. Their nametags had their name in red. They were on commission and sold the big stuff like TVs and stereos. “I’ll take over here,” he announced. The dad said, “This young man is helping us.” “He’s not qualified!” instructed the pro. The mother said, “Either he makes this sale or we’re going somewhere else.” “Fine!” said the pro, “As soon as you decide, I’ll ring it up for you. He (pointing to me) doesn’t work in this department, so his employee key number can’t be entered into the register for this sale.” He wanted that commission.

At some point a manager got involved and somehow the sale of the stereo and a bunch of records to go with it was credited to me. The next day I was transferred to the toy department.

That year the popular boys toy was a remote-controlled vehicle called “Dune Buggy Wheelies”. They flew off the shelves like Cabbage Patch kids in the 80s. I think they sold for like $5.99. I felt like I spent most of my shift each night telling people that we were sold and offering an alternative. “How about a Red Ryder BB Gun?”

“He’ll shoot his eye out!”

One day the phone in the toy department rang. I answered it. It was a Sears catalog store in another part of town. They had received an order for four Dune Buggy Wheelies for a customer, but the customer had found them elsewhere and didn’t want them. They would need to be taken to our store for sale. A light bulb went on in my head and I told them I would tell the manager. I didn’t. After work, I drove to that store. When I got there, I asked if they by chance had any Dune Buggy Wheelies. “Why, yes we have four.”

“I’ll take them!”

Early in my next shift, someone asked desperately about Dune Buggy Wheelies. “We’re out, but if you’re willing to pay a little more, I know where you can get one or four.” I priced mine for $10. I made a few bucks, was severely reprimanded by the manager of the toy department when he found out, and was transferred to the menswear department.

The next shift, a lady came up to me as I was sorting ties or something. “May I help?”

“Yes,” she said, “Where are your underwear?”

“I’m wearing them,” I said. How could I not?

And that was the end of my career in retail.

But, let’s talk about G-B-B; not as sales strategy but as a way to take measure of a life well-lived. I heard someone say the other day, “Are you living your best life?” They were not asking me individually, but I did ponder it for a moment, and said to myself, “Probably not. But it’s not my fault! If it weren’t for this pandemic… If I hadn’t lost so much of my retirement savings in the 2008 crash… If we could push the flush handle on Washington D.C…” You know the song.

Of course that’s all baloney. If I’m not smart enough, wise enough, old enough, and spiritual enough to see that the goodness, betterness, or bestness of my life does not hinge on stuff outside of me; shame on me.

How about collectively as a human race? Relatively speaking, right now, are we being our good selves, our better selves or our best selves. Or, have we slipped to a different tiered metric, something like: Bad, Worse, Worst. And, which direction are we going?

There was this guy named Nicodemus, for all appearances, a thoughtful guy. He came to Jesus one night with a question or maybe a few questions. To the big one, Jesus gave the answer we’ve all heard hundreds of times: “Ye must be born again.” (I’m pretty sure Jesus didn’t say, “Ye”, but that’s the way King James wanted it.)

Not to put words in Jesus’ mouth, but what if, maybe he meant, in addition to that big one—the spiritual rebirth—we should be born again EVERY day. Maybe that’s what the dawn is for.

Let’s assume that sometimes we get weary, we lose focus and inspiration. I don’t know about you but sometimes I trade dreams for despair these days. I feel like I could use a rebirth. Maybe sometimes, not just in a chronological sense, in our hearts, our souls, our thoughts we become old and cranky; maybe a little narrow-minded. What if we could start new, seeing with eyes of wonder: like a child.

Some days I live life Good enough. Some days I strive for Better. Every now and then, for a moment maybe, I live my Best self. Not often enough though.

Back in that Christmas season of 1970, during my short stint as a salesman at Sears I got hit with a hard slap of reality. Maybe it helped to explain some of what I believe the manager of the menswear department called a “smart-ass, college-boy, wisenheimer” type attitude.

One evening, I returned home after work to find a letter from the Selective Service informing me that my lottery number for the draft was coming up, and giving me the date that I would report for my physical for the Army. I assumed that I would be heading to Vietnam soon to fight in a war I despised and had protested against. Fortunately the war ended before my number was called. Unfortunately, many of my friends and family were not as lucky, or whatever you want to call it.

Many are comparing the current state of our nation and world to the tumultuous times of the late 60s and early 70s. I don’t know that the comparison helps anything. We don’t seem to learn much from our past.

I do know this: we are better than the collective life we are living right now. You can see glimpses of it in many places. You can also see the American Dream twisted by greed and arrogance. I just sat through a two day conference on leadership. It is one of the premier leadership conferences in the world. It is even called The Leadership Summit. The resounding theme of the meeting this year (held virtually for the first time ever) was that effective, impactful leadership is characterized by empathy and humility. I would go so far as to say that without those two, what you are left with isn’t leadership at all, but rather something akin to “bad company corrupting good character.” —1 Corinthians 15:33.

Don’t worry. I’m not getting ready to offer an alter call. I am going to continue to self-evaluate, hoping to see beyond my blindspots and cynicism, praying for a new birth everyday, seeking a BETTER version of myself, shooting for an occasionaly BEST-Of, and counting on that being GOOD enough; for now.

U OK HUN?

I DON’T KNOW THAT I HAD MUCH INTEREST in the United Kingdom until The Beatles rocked the music world and transcended pop culture by making culture. That of course was the 60s. In the summer of ’70, I got to visit England. My main three take-aways, best I remember: 1. it seemed so old, 2. why can’t you get ice in a glass of water, and 3. why do they call cookies biscuits?

Of late, I’ve had a renewed interest in the the UK. It may have started with Downton Abbey, but has gained momentum at about three miles an hour, watching YouTube videos about narrowboats slowing chugging along on the canals, really old canals, that meander across the island. One in particular, is a vlog called “Cruising the Cut”. I wrote about it a while back.

Apparently some YouTube algorithm—not to sound too paranoid—has decided I would like to, or should like to, know more about the ways of the Brits via video blogs, adding them to my “if you liked this, you might like this” list. Watching the videos has spawned a fascination with the ways and words of the Crown’s Subjects (or are they Citizens of the Commonwealth?) It’s confusing.

from the internet. not likely an actual Churchill quote.

One such phrase I learned just the other day: “U ok hun?” Apparently this is used when someone is being overly dramatic or seemingly stressed to the brink, particularly as expressed in their social media posts. It shows a bit of concern but with an unspoken hint of “maybe you’re overdoing it.” The fact that it’s made its way to t-shirts and coffee mugs (or tea cups for my British friends) signals it is woven into urban-speak.

It’s sort of like our: “Bless your heart.” Sort of sardonic sympathy, but not always. Sometimes it is full-on, beautiful empathy.

Isn’t it weird how almost everything can be divisive now?

I wasn’t there, but apparently back in the first century the issue of whether to eat meat that had been offered to idols was a hot topic. People were lining up, taking sides and throwing metaphorical stones. Paul the Apostle mentioned in a letter that sometimes knowledge can puff us up; even if that knowledge is based in truth and facts; or not. And when we’re all puffed up with superiority, knowledge becomes dogma and we become jerks. (That part wasn’t in Paul’s take on the matter. I added it on.) [I’ve included a portion of his letter below.]

What if we could sincerely embrace an attitude that regardless of how we vote, whether we’re mask/no mask, whether our favorite ammendment is the first or the second, we could say to each other with true compassion in these crazy times: “U ok hun?” And, no matter the answer, our response would be a sincere: “Bless your heart.”

And, if you’re thinking, “Bless his liberal, naive heart,” I feel that sarcasm. I’m empathetic like that. (Or would that be telepathic?)

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Paul’s first letter to a group in Corinth (chapter 8, The Message)

The question keeps coming up regarding meat that has been offered up to an idol: Should you attend meals where such meat is served, or not? We sometimes tend to think we know all we need to know to answer these kinds of questions—but sometimes our humble hearts can help us more than our proud minds. We never really know enough until we recognize that God alone knows it all.

Some people say, quite rightly, that idols have no actual existence, that there’s nothing to them, that there is no God other than our one God, that no matter how many of these so-called gods are named and worshiped they still don’t add up to anything but a tall story. They say—again, quite rightly—that there is only one God the Father, that everything comes from him, and that he wants us to live for him. Also, they say that there is only one Master—Jesus the Messiah—and that everything is for his sake, including us. Yes. It’s true.

In strict logic, then, nothing happened to the meat when it was offered up to an idol. It’s just like any other meat. I know that, and you know that. But knowing isn’t everything. If it becomes everything, some people end up as know-it-alls who treat others as know-nothings. Real knowledge isn’t that insensitive. We need to be sensitive to the fact that we’re not all at the same level of understanding in this. Some of you have spent your entire lives eating “idol meat,” and are sure that there’s something bad in the meat that then becomes something bad inside of you. An imagination and conscience shaped under those conditions isn’t going to change overnight.

Randall & Rawls

THIS IS A GUEST POST OF SORTS. These are the words of my friend Randall O’Brien. I often turn to Randall’s words when I’m trying to try to make sense of things. They are a wonderful lens to view the world through. Let me give you an example. At the end of this post is a link to an essay Randall wrote. Please click that link and read it. It’s not long. It’s true. It’s powerful. It’s timely. If it doesn’t touch your heart deeply, yours may be hardened to stone at this time.

Among several graduate degrees, Randall studied Human Nature and Personality at Yale University. Mostly though (in my opinion) he studies real life.

He knows a lot. Most importantly, he knows ABOUT being a POPS. Randall is a self-described “hands-on grandparent, hoping to help raise five good humans.”

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After the emotions, comes thought:

A THEORY of JUSTICE
(A theory, a book by John Rawls)

Changes anyone???

1. Who was John Rawls?

• A philosopher who taught at Oxford, Cornell, M.I.T. and Harvard.

• Famous for his Theory of Justice, and his book by that title, which sold 200,000 copies, and spawned 5,000 articles, papers, and other books (and counting).

2. What is Rawls’s Theory of Justice?

• Concerns SOCIAL JUSTICE.

• Rawls, essentially sees “Justice as fairness.”
  He establishes justice, or fairness, through a hypothetical “Veil of Ignorance.”
  Meaning? Meaning we imagine agreeing to the rules of society—fairness and justice—without knowing our place in society, our class, social status, assets, intelligence, etc, to which we might add race, gender, sexual orientation, abilities, or any other imaginable demographic.

In other words, what rules for a fair society would we write beforehand if none of us knew who we’d be in this world? This “Veil of Ignorance” should lead to fair rules, and laws to enforce them.

3. So.
Question: If we were to seek to form a more just society using Rawls’s theory, what changes would we make.

4. Let us remember: Justice is a coin with which we purchase peace.

5. With a tip of our hat to JFK, shall we acknowledge: “Those who make peaceful change impossible, make violent change inevitable.”

Hope.

By Randall O’Brien

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Thank you Randall—for friendship, for shining the light on things I would have not seen otherwise.

CLICK HERE TO READ RANDALL’S ESSAY: A Bronze Star for Brenda

GOOD TIMES BAD TIMES

In the days of my youth
I was told what it means to be a man
Now I've reached that age
I've tried to do all those things the best I can
No matter how I try
I find my way to the same old jam
Good times, Bad times
You know I’ve had my share
When my woman left home
With a brown eyed man
Well, I still don't seem to care

So sang Led Zeppelin in 1969, in their song “Good Times Bad Times”. As an 18 year-old, I stupidly thought I could relate to that first stanza and still do--until you get to lines 9 through 11. Trying to ponder those lines today, I'm sure that if My Amazing-Missus were to leave home with a brown-eyed man, I would care deeply. Would I blame her? I'm not even going to speculate.

I loved this song. I loved the whole album. I remember playing it in a loop on the 8-track player in my 1940 Ford. While the poetry of the lyrics was worth the price of purchase, John Bonham's drum licks were the thing that kept me coming back. Just listen to what he does on Good Times Bad Times! At 18, those times seemed more simple, more good. Easier.

Of course the fact is that 1968 and 1969 and 1970 were some of the most tumultuous times in our nation's history: the assassinations of John Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, Martin Luther King Jr. Race riots, political unrest. A war with no end in sight. Protests over that war and the Kent State University killings.

And today? Are you ready for some good times or at least some good news?

These days, in my head, I'm drawing parallels between that Summer of '69 when I was 18 and this Summer of my 69th Year. I can say without doubt that in every season there are Good Times and Bad Times at the same time.

“We cannot be happy if we expect to live all the time at the highest peak of intensity. Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony. Music is pleasing not only because of the sound but because of the silence that is in it: without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm.”

— Thomas Merton from essays published in 1955 titled "No Man Is An Island

That title, "No Man Is An Island", reminds me of the Simon & Garfunkel song, "I Am A Rock. I Am An Island". So, which is it?

Think about where we are right now, if we assume that we are where the headlines of the day put us (although there’s some question about that). Now read Paul Simon's lyrics:

I Am a Rock
By Paul Simon

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow
I am a rock I am an island

I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain
I am a rock I am an island

Don't talk of love
I've heard the words before
It's sleeping in my memory
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died
If I never loved I never would have cried
I am a rock I am an island

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb
I touch no one and no one touches me
I am a rock I am an island

And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries

Let's consider the coronavirus as one of those current headlines. Some wisdom says isolation is prudent, and while it comes to physical contact at least for a time that may be true, but if we hunker down and bunker down and say stupid stuff like: "Not my Circus, not my monkeys" we sound as crass and naive as Simon's protagonist. I saw a report of a few politicians calling this the "Wuhan Virus". That is irresponsible, destructive and brings nothing to the quest of finding solutions. The solution, whatever it is, will be found as a community through cooperation, honesty, wisdom, scientific knowledge and prayer; not in idealogical isolation and fortress-building.

I was idealistic at 18. I am idealistic at 69. I believe that Good Times and Bad Times come and go together. Like Merton said, "...without the alternation of sound and silence there would be no rhythm."