Lots of fish this time

Fishing in the Keep of Silence

by Linda Gregg

There is a hush now while the hills rise up
and God is going to sleep. He trusts the ship
of Heaven to take over and proceed beautifully
as he lies dreaming in the lap of the world.
He knows the owls will guard the sweetness
of the soul in their massive keep of silence,
looking out with eyes open or closed over
the length of Tomales Bay that the egrets
conform to, whitely broad in flight, white
and slim in standing. God, who thinks about
poetry all the time, breathes happily as He
repeats to Himself: there are fish in the net,
lots of fish this time in the net of the heart.

"Fishing in the Keep of Silence" by Linda Gregg, from All of It Singing. © Graywolf Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission.

An Assassin When We Need One

“Where is Lee Harvey Oswald now that we need him?

The small bumper sticker on the back bumper of the white panel truck smacked me in the face. I had pulled up behind it to wait for the car ahead to turn left. The famous picture of Oswald and his rifle illustrated the provocative and disturbing question.

The truck may have been just old enough to carry such a message with George W. Bush in its sights. But even if that truck did go back to “W’s” administration, I doubted Lee Harvey Oswald was being wished on him. I know to whose head the question was aimed.

There were no other markings on the back of the truck to tell me if its driver might be a plumber or electrician or any of the many people who drive such vehicles. The bumper sticker was so low on the truck that you might not notice it if you walked around it, or toward it. It was almost as if the owner wanted it on his vehicle, but not so it would attract too much attention.

We moved forward, and I pulled to the truck’s left as it prepared to turn right at the next light. No markings on its side, either. I tried to catch a glimpse of the driver’s face, but just as I passed he raised his left hand and blocked my view. Chance or intention, I don’t know.

I am willing to guess he thinks himself a true Patriot. But he isn’t, not at all. We elect and with equal fervor un-elect our leaders. When we don’t want them any more, we use the ballot box to turn them out to pasture. Those who wish Lee Harvey Oswald to come and do the work of democracy for them, or over the will of the majority, simply do not get being citizens of this nation. It’s not patriotism and it’s not democracy: it’s anarchy and it’s chaos.

That driver should hide his message and his face; he should be ashamed. But he shouldn’t be shot.

A Comment on "Comments"

If you read my blog you have perhaps noticed that there may be no way for you to comment on it. I think it used to be easy to do, a box for comments prominently displayed at the end of each post.

Recently I was able to post a test comment by signing into my Google account, but I don't know where that leaves the few who have not yet fallen into Google's clutches. I have tried to implement the online directions on how to open it up to ordinary citizens, but to no avail. Of course, I can't call a human being and ask about it.

Fortunately, a Facebook friend responded to my cry for help, and I now have information on what to do to fix the problem. I know you are eagerly waiting to shoot down my always insightful commentaries, so I will try what she suggested in the next day or two. Meantime, if you can comment on this post, do so...and tell me how you did it on what kind of computer/smart phone/tablet, etc.

Thanks!

Victims of Violence

Underlying the controversy over guns in our country is the reality of our attraction to and love of violence. Television’s commercial "breaks” are awash in the blood of promotions for violent TV series. They promise increasingly gruesome and graphic crimes and punishments. Just the ads turn my stomach, and I don’t watch the shows they hype. Fact is, I don’t watch much television at all, so I am no expert on what’s out there. I depend upon the reports of people like James Poniewozik

In the March 11 issue of Time, Poniewozik writes about “Serial Killing: How TV dramas, good and bad, have become addicted to blood.” He tries to distinguish between shows that include violence as an element in well-constructed plots involving fully-realized characters, and those that simply use violence as a means to attract the coveted young adult male demographic. Either way, violence now plays essential roles in dramas that aspire to success.

We argue about whether immersion in virtual and visual violence makes it more likely some people will resort to real violence as a way to solve real problems and settle real issues. Scientific studies are reported to be inconclusive on the debate. Common sense tells me that if you grow up being told and shown violence as the preferred way of dealing with life you are more likely to chose violence when you feel life pointing a gun at your head.

Strange, isn’t it, that “Christian” America is fixated on violence. I have always thought Jesus was about love, forgiveness, and redemption. When it comes to violence, violence came to him, and he suffered at its hands, not returning evil for evil. If any violence was to be brought into the world, it would come as a result of the judgment of God, not of us visiting it upon one another. Suffering was to be eased, not inflicted, and if it could not be eased, it was to be borne, not brandished. “The one who lives by the sword, dies by the sword,” he who wished the death of no one asserted. “When will ‘they’ ever learn...”

James Poniewozik writes (mostly) approvingly of The Walking Dead, reporting that in one episode a character dies in childbirth. “Before she slips away, she says to her young son, ‘Promise me you’ll always do what’s right.’ After she dies, he picks up a gun and –so she won’t rise as undead–shoots her through the head. Because he loves her.”

Then he writes:

“It’s deeply affecting and human, as mother-son mercy rekillings go. But you know what else is affecting and human? Falling in love, and out of it. Growing up. Chasing a dream that doesn’t involve running guns or drugs. Coping with illnesses that do not terminate in zombieism. TV’s new golden age has given us shows that couldn’t have existed 20 years ago. But it hasn’t yet found much room for personal, grownup dramas like...”

I’ll leave the shows he feels meet that test up to your judgment, you who know television much better than do I. All of us could well take a hard look at how our culture’s obsession with violence afflicts our own souls and the quality of our life together.

Washington as String Quartet?

I've been trying come up with something original and interesting about "The Sequester" and how we got into this mess...one mess among the many. Then Garrison Keillor came to my rescue again with today's Writer's Almanac.  Makes me think of the "Congress As Choir" piece I wrote several months ago.

String Quartet

by Carl Dennis

Art and life, I wouldn't want to confuse them.
But it's hard to hear this quartet
Without comparing it to a conversation
Of the quiet kind, where no one tries to outtalk
The other participants, where each is eager instead
To share in the task of moving the theme along
From the opening statement to the final bar.

A conversation that isn't likely to flourish
When sales technicians come trolling for customers,
Office-holders for votes, preachers for converts.
Many good people among such talkers,
But none engaged like the voices of the quartet
In resisting the plots time hatches to make them unequal,
To set them at odds, to pull them asunder.

I love the movement where the cello is occupied
With repeating a single phrase while the others
Strike out on their own, three separate journeys
That seem to suggest each prefers, after all,
The pain and pleasure of playing solo. But no.
Each near the end swerves back to the path
Their friend has been plodding, and he receives them
As if he never once suspected their loyalty.

Would I be moved if I thought the music
Belonged to a world remote from this one,
If it didn't seem instead to be making the point
That conversation like this is available
At moments sufficiently free and self-forgetful?

And at other moments, maybe there's still a chance
To participate in the silence of listeners
Who are glad for what they manage to bring to the music
And for what they manage to take away.