SHALL WE GATHER

THIS IS ABOUT: coffee and commas; pauses and places; gatherings and gauntlets.

Okay, let's get this straight, right from the beginning: commas (and their punctuation buddies) are important, especially in our societal drift to writing where the only function of punctuation is to share emotion ;-(

For example, consider the possible outcomes of these words from a man to his beloved, based solely on the placement of punctuation:

A woman, without her man, is nothing.

Or, more wisely put:

A woman: without her, man is nothing.

This example is from a wonderful book by Lynne Truss called, "Eats Shoots & Leaves". The title comes from this story,

A panda walks into a cafe. He orders a sandwich, eats it, then draws a gun and fires two shots in the air.
"Why?" Asks the confused waiter, as the panda makes towards the exit. The panda produces a badly punctuated wildlife manual and tosses it over his shoulder.
"I'm a panda," he says, at the door. "Look it up."
The waiter turns to the relevant entry and, sure enough, finds an explanation.
"Panda. Large black-and-white bear-like mammal, native to China. Eats, shoots and leaves."

Truss says of punctuation's function: "To point up -- rather in the manner of musical notation -- such literary qualities as rhythm, direction, pitch, tone and flow... It tells the reader how to hum the tune."

A comma helps us find a rest, a place to breath.

What does this have to do with coffee and gathering? Check out this from the web page of a little local coffee shop I frequent:

"We’re grateful to be a part of your coffee rhythm today, whether you’re here for rest, work, or play and we hope that you can pause for a moment. It’s the pauses that provide us the opportunity to rest and reflect, celebrate what’s come before, and to prepare for what’s next.

"Every day needs a Comma."

This shop used to be called The Gathering Place. That is until a huge public trust in my hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma, decided that there could only be one gathering place. After the little coffee shop of that name had been open for people to gather, along came a huge park project along the Arkansas River in Tulsa, to be known as Gathering Place. Apparently, the suits of that enterprise thought people might confuse the two. Imagine: a family from Iowa hears of this amazing park along the river in Tulsa. They load up the SUV and embark on the journey to see it for themselves. But, through some GPS fluke they end up at a storefront coffeeshop in downtown Shawnee, Oklahoma.

Believe it or not, the Goliath-like behemoth charged its attorneys, "Sic 'em!" So, they tell the young families that own the coffeeshop, "Cease and desist! We'll see you in court!" Gauntlet thrown! Or something like that. It's a true story. You can use your favorite search engine to find all the details.

The coffeeshop owners say (in my version of the story), "Hey, pause, breath, have a comma moment."

In defense of the park people, I've been a part of trademark defense, threats, violations and litigation. If your entity has a trademark and you don't defend it, eventually a court could rule that the trademark has ceased to mean anything. Still...

Pushed into a name change, the little-coffeeshop-that-could rebranded and created a better version of themselves. And, guess what, people still gather at their place; now called, "Comma"!!!

Of course, you'll want to visit for yourself. I'm happy to meet you there. The coffee and scones are superb. In the meantime, visit virtually: comma.cafe.

They're right: everyday needs a comma, and for me, most days need a semicolon--just a little longer pause than a comma. Thankfully, at Comma; semicolons are okay too.

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A Confession: Before you grammarians sharpen your red pencil to show me the errors of my punctuational way, I don't claim to know what I'm doing. Punctuation is both utilitarian and poetic for me. Like a delicious, cold fruit salad.

FAOTW

I WASN’T MUCH OF A JOINER. Look back through my high school yearbook and you won't find me pictured with the FFA, FBLA, 4H, Speech Club, Drama Club or any other organization that started with "Future" or ended with "Club". It wasn't that I was completely anti-social or opposed to things with a motto and secret handshake. Nor was I completely aimless, but it did seem to be quite a commitment to say in 8th grade, "My future is in farming!" Actually, I did make a test run with the FFA, but before we could order a blue jacket we had to cross a couple of hurdles: 1.) Learn the basics of Roberts Rules of Order. CHECK. 2.) Assist in castrating a few sheep. MY FUTURE IS NOT IN FARMING.

Being a drummer in a traveling rock band seemed practical and doable at the time but there wasn't a club for FDIATRB. I also had aspirations of being a radio DJ. I loved to spin platters and found when practicing in my bedroom I had good banter and interesting facts about the next song coming up after the commercial break. Again, no club for that.

I was a member of several bands: jazz, symphonic, orchestra, rock, marching and concert. I even did a stint in high school playing in musicals for a dinner theatre.

Today, if I were a revolutionary high school leader I would strive to gather creatives together and form the FUTURE ARTISTS OF THE WORLD club. We would meet regularly--maybe in a drum circle, or listening to the poets in our club share their haikus, sonnets and free verse. We would celebrate the work of our own visual artists and trek to galleries, concerts, coffeehouses, etc. We would be a bit subversive, maybe creating an alternative cover for the football program or reimagining the school mascot. Someone in authority might say, "I sure hope that's just tempera paint dripping in a rainbow of colors out of the lockers of the members of the FAOTW!" Given some artistic license, the Senior Prom decorations would be remembered always as would the tattoos given at the after-prom party.

My last official work with students was in a wonderful community called Hinton. Hinton sits in an area that is rich with agricultural resources: wheat, peanuts, cotton, peppers, and more. In the schools of communities like Hinton, FFA is more than a club. It's education, inspiration, and practice. It is key to the passing on of values, methods, lessons-learned, and a way of life.

Let me say with all sincerity that the arts are just as important to a community. I know how important STEM is, I also know how unlivable our communities would become with the arts. I know that it doesn't take a club like my silly FAOTW to promote, to support, to teach, to sustain and protect the arts, but it does take at least awareness and occasional celebration. And, going forward, someone is going to have to speak up for the arts in our schools or they will be stripped away.

I know of many gifted creatives who have come through the Hinton school system. I want to talk about two of them. Sterling Hayes and Corey Fuller. These two former Comets have been on my mind lately. One of them is my son and the other I feel a kinship to because she and her mom and dad have allowed us to be a part of watching her artistic journey.

The reason I'm mentioning them is to celebrate their commitment to the arts and the work they do; particularly right now, and particularly in the area of public art. Public art is so incredible and vital right now and Sterling and Corey are doing great work in this area.

Sterling is the Director of Art in Public Places for the Oklahoma Arts Council. She oversees the opportunities for public art in capital improvement projects across our state. Current projects include a project called, "Power In Pop" at the Oklahoma Pop Museum in Tulsa and in the renovation of our state capital building, which will include several public art installations.

Not only is Sterling an advocate, organizer and curator in the arts, she is a gifted artist too. We are proud to have one of her paintings and a few of her pottery pieces in our own collection. You can see photos of her work on Instagram: @sterlingpottery

Corey is Chair of the School of Art and Design at Oklahoma Baptist University and Professor of Graphic Design. His public art can be seen if you travel westbound along Route 66 and I-40 just west of Weatherford, Oklahoma, and in an exhibit at the train depot gallery in Norman, and in a recent project--a mural on the art annex on the OBU campus, a collaborative effort with students, former students and Bryan Alexis a muralist/public artist/graphic design professor at University of Arkansas in Fort Smith.

Sterling and Corey are just two of what I will call Ambassador's for the Arts from Hinton, Oklahoma. If there is a club for former Hinton residents who want to be patrons and promoters of the arts, sign me up! And, let's include current resident artists in the club. I nominate Jim McCain as Chairperson and move that nominations cease and Jim be elected by acclamation! (I still remember a few of Robert’s Rules.)

Only a few weeks left before we see Jim's latest public art installation: a retro giant slide at the Hinton Fair!

FAOTW UNITE!

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW

OR CAN I?

Often in times like this I struggle for the right words to say. See, I want to say something... I don't want to say something that will offend, and these days, no matter what you say you're going to offend someone and set off a frenzy of frustration and rebuttal. So why not just keep my mouth shut and lay down my pen and paper? I think it's because, for me, I work through stuff by writing, erasing, underlining, striking through. Many times I wad up the paper and through it in the trash. Is silence better than strife?

Often I think about vantage point. If I'm going to judge or offer an opinion I need to look at the position I'm in as I do so. Am I speaking as one who seeks to follow the teachings of Jesus? If I say that do people assume that I'm one of those radical, religious, evangelical, "blessed", nut jobs because I live in a deep red state and grew up in a southern baptist church? Can I really see things clearly wearing the goggles of a white, male, bald, baby-boomer. Is there a vantage point that allows me to think and speak and act justly? Of course, I can't suspend completely who I am, how I've been raised, the color of my lens, but I can try.

I reached out to a dear friend, who is one of the sanest people I know. I asked him to share his words as sort of guest post on my blog. He consented and I'm letting him have the last word. Thank you Dr. Randall O'Brien for friendship and wisdom.

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After the emotions, comes thought:

*A THEORY of JUSTICE* Changes anyone???

(A theory, a book by John Rawls)

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

50

50: IT’S NOT WHAT IT ONCE WAS..

That was our argument when we discovered our kids wanted to throw us a 50th wedding anniversary shindig. Speaking for myself, the real reason for my resistance to a golden celebration is that it's hard to imagine that we're old enough to be married that long. Don't misunderstand, I am grateful for My Amazing-Missus daily and for our 50 years of matrimony.

Growing up in church I can remember many occasions when we would go back to the church fellowship hall on a Sunday afternoon for a 50th Anniversary party for a lovely couple celebrated with pastel mints, assorted nuts, cake and punch. I remember thinking, "I hope they both make it to 51." When you're young, old people seem older than they seem to themselves.

In that spirit of denial, I like to view 50 as the new 40 or at least 49.

It seems like only yesterday I drove my VW Bus onto the beautiful farm where she lived to pick her up for our first date. Surprisingly, her father didn't run me off with a shotgun. As one who pokes fun at the absurdity of the idea of predestination, it seems a little hypocritical to say that it was a match made in heaven, but I can't explain it any other way. 50 years later, I still can't.

Now if you ask her she might concur that it was a match made somewhere; but... There are those days. Some days we've been Romeo and Juliet, some: Homer and Marge. Maybe once or twice we've had the misguided daring of Bonnie and Clyde without the crime and violence. We've certainly dreamed of the idyllic home life of mom, dad, and two boys of Ward and June Cleaver.

I guess our story is our own. And it's fifty years and counting. As I said at the outset, 50 doesn't seem like a big deal these days--my mom and dad celebrated 73. But, in a way 50 is a big deal these days when marriage seems to be like a contrivance of convenience more than a "for as long as we both shall live" kind of commitment.

Are there "keys"? I don't know. I do believe there is a certain amount of luck, a large dose of magic, a larger measure of miracle and an eternal source of love.

Our courtship was literally a whirlwind. Our first date was on New Years Eve. A few weeks later on Valentines Day I asked her to marry me. A few months later on June 16, 1972, we were wed. I'm sure there were those that suspected there might be an additional motivation for the rapid run to the alter. Why else would a lovely girl like Arlene Cox marry a poor college student/drummer-in-a-rock-band/long-haired/VW Bus driving pseudo hippie? Maybe it was the fact that he came from a good family or maybe it was his sense of humor. Yeah, that's probably it. Let's build a marriage on that foundation.

Our first child was born eight years, YEARS, after we married. I wanted to remove all suspicion from the old busy bodies in the church. If someone were to ask me the key for our 50 year marriage, I would say maybe it had to do with those early years: we became best friends. To this day she is my best friend. There is no one I would rather hang out with, be happy with, hurt with, and hope with.

So, if our kids want to celebrate that with us and some of the people who have been a part of our story, then LET'S PARTY! Here's the invitation that our oldest put together [without a doubt the coolest 50th Wedding Anniversary invitation I've ever seen]. Our kids have done all the planning: I don't even know if we'll have pastel mints and assorted nuts. I do know this: DRESS IS CASUAL and you're invited.