How the Bard Almost Did Me In and Then Inspired Me

               How the Bard Almost Did Me In and Then Inspired Me

                Published in Marietta Daily Journal April 23, 2017

            Scary adventures seem to be a constant in my life.  Walking through prison doors to teach convicted murderers, watching my son atop raging bulls, and standing before doctors as a congressional candidate to discuss healthcare are but a few.

            Nothing, however, has ever struck fear in my heart as much as watching Professor Linwood Orange look over my application for student teaching.  All of my college course work was over.  All I needed to finish college and get on with a career was to do three months of student or “practice” teaching.

            But there were four problems.  One, I had to have the signature of the English Department chairman.  Two, the chairman was a Shakespeare scholar, Dr. Orange.  Three, I had made a “D” in his Shakespeare class.  And four, the good professor was staring at my application, saying nothing.

            It was 1966.  English majors at the University of Southern Mississippi called the English Department the House of Orange.  Chairman Orange ruled his domain with a small measure of tyranny.

             After his secretary ushered me back to his inner sanctum, his only words were “Come in, young sir.”  He never asked me to sit down, so I stood nervously.

            Handing him my application, I could only muster, “I need your signature on my student teaching application.”  Bad choice of words.  Mistakenly, I assumed that getting the English chairman’s signature was a formality that would take only a few seconds.

            “So it’s simple as that.  You just need my signature.”

            Before I could mumble any reply, the professor drew from his deep well of quotations penned by the Bard of Avon, William Shakespeare: “Don’t you realize that ‘words without thoughts never to heaven go’?”

            Struggling to process his line borrowed from Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” I heard Dr. Orange continue: “If there’s an action you need from me, shouldn’t you ask for it correctly?”

            Now he’s staring at me.   And there I stood only by the grace of God and the benevolence of President Lyndon Baines Johnson who had loaned me half the cost of my education.

            I never responded to Dr. Orange’s questions.  He looked back at my application and that’s when the seemingly 5 hours of silence began.  When he reached into his desk drawer and retrieved an old-fashioned, green Ward Grade Book, I knew he was checking to see what my grade was in “Shakespeare’s Tragedies.”

            My mind raced.  What if this man aborts my plans – yea, my dream – to be an English teacher?  More important than a dashed dream, what would I do to make a living?  Let’s see.  Interstate-20 is still unfinished.  The state Department of Transportation would take me back.  There are still three chicken packing plants in my home town.  God in Heaven, please don’t make me have to work at one of those places.  I loved driving the feed, seed, and fertilizer trucks for the Scott County Co-op.  Would they hire me again?

            No, none of that!  I’ll go ahead and enlist even though it means Viet Nam.  Paul and Pete gave their best in the worst fighting against the Nazis.  I’ll follow my brothers’ examples by giving my best to fighting the Communists.  The Army it will be.

             Professor Orange’s next question brought me back to the present, pregnant moment:  “Why did you make a ‘D’ in Shakespeare?”

            “I don’t know.  I read and enjoyed every single play.  And I actually made an ‘A’ in Methods of Teaching English.”

            Unimpressed, the Lord of Orange grew silent, picked up his pen, signed the application, handed it to me without any eye contact, and said. “Sail on!”

            The two words haunted and discouraged me for two years of “junior high” teaching.  The esteemed scholar whose signature and approval I sought didn’t think I was qualified to teach English.  By the time I had paid President Johnson back, I was teaching Shakespeare to high school seniors.  The pleasure was indescribable.  (The Bard will teach himself if teachers handle him right.)

            “What’s past is prologue,” the Bard wrote, granting me encouragement that canceled the discouragement from the House of Orange.

            Discouragement isn’t one of life’s glitches.  It’s one of its features.  It presents us a choice: we can wallow in it or find meaning from it.  Admittedly, I wallowed for two years, but with the help of the Bard and approximately 4000 students who submitted to his study, I have found the Bard to be a great encourager.

            So … “Let me embrace thee, adversity, for thou art the source of wisdom.”

Roger Hines

4/19/17

A Case for Easter: Faith’s Foundations

                              A Case for Easter: Faith’s Foundations

                Published in Marietta Daily Journal April 16, 2017

            One of my newest and most intelligent friends is a serious, sincere atheist.  We have been meeting for coffee lately to talk and learn.  He is New York born and bred.  I’m a Southern boy.  He worked for a time in the White House.  All of my days have been spent in a schoolhouse.

            Despite his atheism, he was educated by Catholic nuns.  My learning came from strong public schools and Protestant parents.  He’s a decade younger than I and rides his motorcycle just about everywhere he goes.  I’m not getting on anybody’s motorcycle.

            What shall I say?  He and I are proof that a Christian and an atheist, a conservative and a libertarian, an educated redneck and an astute New Englander can respect each other.  My friend, of course, will not be celebrating Easter.

            In his own words, “The only reality is matter and energy.”

            “But what about love and other such non-material things?” I recently asked.  “You can’t see them but you know they are real. What about fresh little babies and all of the emotions they inspire?  What about laughter, sorrow, even patriotism?  Don’t all of these things testify of non-material reality?”

            “I dunno,” was his reply, a reply I respect because there are things about my own faith and life in general that I don’t know.

            I do know that love, selflessness, and sacrifice are realities that cannot be charted or quantified.  Yes, there is much reality beyond the laws of biology, and Easter is a testimony to the fact.

            Easter is the premier Christian holy day.  What are the prospects of this day’s survival? Is Christianity flourishing or is western civilization sliding into a post-Christian era as my friend and several historians claim?

            These questions are important, but not as foundational as the following: Did God actually put on an earth suit: Is Jesus who He said He was?  Can we believe the testimonies of Chuck Colson, Phil Robertson, Tim Tebow and many others, famous and not, who claim their lives were dramatically changed because of the resurrection message?

            The pluralism of our day questions the claims of Christianity, the resurrection particularly.  Pluralism speaks of “my truth” and “your truth.”  To those who celebrate Easter, however, truth is an objective reality.

            Moderns simply don’t like the idea that truth has boundaries.  Many view the word truth as narrow and onerous.  Truth, of course, has always been narrow.  Water freezes at 32 degrees Fahrenheit, Old Death visits us all, and we are powerless to change it.

            Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus, an event that most certainly defies our so-called physical laws.  Millions of Christians today are exulting in the reality that what we call death is not the end after all.  In the words of John Donne, “Death, thou shalt die!”  Resurrection is the centerpiece of Christian theology, yet this treasured centerpiece is also the bone in the throat of modern, “scientific” man.

            It is the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) and the epistles (letters) of the New Testament that provide the historical record of the resurrection.  It is on the testimony of others and on their own transforming Christian experience that Christians stake the resurrection Gospel’s veracity.  For example, the Apostle Paul, a former terrorist and persecutor of Christians, became the most prolific writer of the New Testament, expounding on and defending the resurrection.  Obviously something life-changing happened to him.

            Many reject the resurrection and judge the Christian faith generally by its misrepresentation and misapplication.  The Crusades, the KKK, and Westboro Baptist Church are not a fair measure of Christianity.  Billy Graham’s “long obedience in the same direction” and one’s Christian neighbors who have consistently lived out their faith are far better gauges of the Christian Gospel’s credibility and power.

            One of the most contentious arguments in contemporary America is the role of Christianity in the nation’s founding.  Even if Jefferson and others did not believe in miracles such as the resurrection, it is the Holy Bible, particularly its 10 Commandments and the Sermon on the Mount, that has formed our national character.  It is the Apostle Paul’s “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where thy victory?” that has lent Christians hope.

            Every individual, institution, and nation needs an occasional renaissance.  For the individual Christian believer, it is the resurrection that pulls him or her back to what is foundational.  That’s the purpose of Easter.

            As Paul the transformed terrorist wrote, “If Christ be not risen, our preaching is vain and your faith is also vain.”  That’s foundational.

Roger Hines

4/13/17

The Triumph of Illusion: Pleasure that Doesn’t Please

           The Triumph of Illusion: Pleasure that Doesn’t Please

               Published in Marietta Daily Journal April 9, 2017

            The Academy of Country Music awards show last Sunday night (after church, mind you) was an in-your-face reminder that illusion and sensory overload have overtaken entertainment.

            The show’s flashing lights, darkness, more bright lights, deafening drums, smoke, outrageous costumes, screaming entertainers, and hyper-emotional winners made it clear that style was dominating substance.  The singing was secondary to the decked-out singers.  The show wasn’t about recognition of excellence in entertainment.  It was about celebrity. 

            I use this particular show only as an example.  There are many other award shows and entertainment venues that illustrate how American culture has become a culture of illusion.  Like the optical illusion of water in the highway which our vehicles never reach, so is our pursuit of pleasure and entertainment a hopeless endeavor.

            Female breasts were “in” (well, actually out) at the ACM show.  T-shirts for male singers were “in” also, untucked of course. This could get confusing.  Is everything that’s “in” out?

Don’t tell me that dress doesn’t matter.  It matters everywhere, especially at school where we should be teaching and modeling excellence in all things.  Imagine going to the symphony and seeing the musicians dressed any way they prefer.

 And don’t tell me that Kitty Wells, Loretta Lynn, or Tammy Wynette would expose themselves as did the new women of country.  Neither would Charley Pride, Charlie Daniels, or Merle Haggard do a half squat or run back and forth across the stage while they sang.

            But music, dress, and entertainment forms “evolve,” some say.  No, they don’t.  Music moguls change things fast for the sake of marketing.  We can all understand the desire of entertainers to do what they love to make money.  It’s the illusory aspect that’s troubling.

            For examples of illusion, consider “American Idol,” “Dancing with the Stars,” “The Voice,” and all the others.  Not that I have ever watched a complete show of any of these.  I haven’t.  But I’ve seen enough to know that all of them are fantasy-inducing shows that lead viewers to think of themselves as potential celebrities.

            “You’re going to Hollywood!” exclaims an “Idol” judge as lights and audience go wild and background music swells to new heights.

            “Oh, thank-you, thank-you.  I love you guys,” scream the victorious contestants, not realizing that they have become a commodity in a celebrity culture.  Not realizing that while they may or may not make millions, the judges and producers of the show already have, thanks to the hungry eyes of youths whose hearts have oft within them burned for money, fame, and adoration.    

              The winners, of course, can look forward – maybe – to looking fabulous and living their lives on unreal, fabulous sets, perhaps as fabulous as the cover of People Magazine.

            As illustrated by the crotch to crotch dancing on “Dancing with the Stars” and the growing undress on the “country” shows, popular culture is besot with sensuality.  “See me, hear me, touch me.  Devour me and I will know I am successful.  I was not born to serve, but to shine.”

            In his national bestseller, “The Culture of Narcissism,” Christopher Lasch asserts that today faith in ourselves and in a world of make-believe is more important than reality.  He bemoans our excessive pleasuring.  In light of Lasch’s thesis, it’s noteworthy that the ACM show was held in Las Vegas, the city of spectacle, the city that depends on illusions for its very existence.

            It has been a long journey from the highlands of Scotland to the hills of Tennessee to the lights of Las Vegas, but that’s the journey country music has taken.  It too has been hijacked – by sensuality, marketing, and technology. I wish all aspiring entertainers well, but if their music ain’t country, call it something else and let the rest of us keep our fiddles, steel guitars, and the themes that nourished us (home, sacrifice, faith, struggle, front porches) when times were bad.  Let us waltz across Texas with Ernest Tubb without all the glare and glitter.   

            I must be fair, however.  At the end of the ACM show, Reba McIntyre’s stirring song, “Back to God,” and Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s “Speak to a Girl” turned the show around.  Skeptics might argue these two performances were a bone thrown to traditionalists.  Maybe, but they were inspiring.  Google them for some hope.

            Hope still exists.  It will always exist.  If not, illusion and pleasure will absolutely deaden us to the wondrous and exciting world of reality.

Roger Hines

April 5, 2017

Why I Love Donald Trump and Why His Demonization Continues

Why I Love Donald Trump and Why His                     Demonization Continues

                   Published in Marietta Daily Journal April 2, 2017

            Last November I voted for Donald Trump partly because I didn’t have much choice.  Just before the November election, however, I had begun to warm up to him.  The more I listened and learned, the more I came to believe his critics were wrong.

            There are several reasons why I have come to love the man.  I use the word love because that’s what I mean and because I believe that when affection is developed slowly it is probably more real and more reliable.

            The main reason I love the President is his authenticity.  Can anyone argue that there is even an ounce of pretense or “put on” in this man? Does he ever put on airs?

            For a decade of my life I was in the Georgia General Assembly as a state representative and as an aide to the Speaker of the House.  The experience was quite a positive one because the majority of legislators were good, down-to-earth people.  Those who put on airs and allowed position and power to go to their heads were few, but on television and in the minds of voters, the few can become the face of all politicians everywhere.

            It’s interesting that having academic degrees and elective positions can puff us up in ways that having money never does.  President Trump has both degrees and money, but he is not puffed up or egotistical as so many claim.  Neither is he condescending to ordinary citizens.  Good grief; he won their hearts and their votes.  Those who consider Trump’s supporters unwashed and uneducated are the ones who are condescending and egotistical.

I also love the man because his children love him.  What we see in his sons and daughters is not fake.  They love and respect their dad.  He obviously loves and respects them.  The muckraking media has been unsuccessful in getting the mothers of his children to slam the President.  They have actually praised him.

The third reason is I’ve waited all of my adult life for a national political figure who would set the media on their heels.  Donald Trump is doing just that – confusing them and angering them.  Unlike no other candidate we’ve seen, he questions the question and the questioners, driving the questioners to their pre-suppositions.

ABC’s Sam Donaldson made a sport of yelling at and taunting President Reagan.  The cheerful President stood and took it.  He should not have.  Television reporters ceased reporting decades ago, instead asking questions in such a way that an 8^th grader could discern their intent.  The press likes to be tough with press secretary Sean Spicer, but when Spicer is equally tough, they become cry babies.

Another reason I love the President is his work ethic.  The man is 70 years old, yet his pace is remarkable.  Individuals who have visited him during working hours testify that in discussing policy he displays sobriety and optimism.  In regard to personality, he is described not as irascible but charming.

So far, none of my reasons have included political experience.  Donald Trump doesn’t have any, and that’s good.  Elective politics is demanding, but it is not a particularly difficult art to learn.  Our country was designed to have citizen leaders, not a political class.  Career politicians are killing us.  Their chief contribution has been a regulatory nanny state. Its only solution is term limits at every level of government.

Because he is confident and is not intimidated by the media, the President will continue to be demonized.   Skittish, waffling Republicans will continue to praise him one day and distance themselves from him the next.  Content to let Lois Lerner and Hillary Clinton off the hook, the media will continue to refer to the “Liar-in-Chief,” probably for the next four years.

And of course the media doesn’t like Trump’s foreign policy.  Fearing their own loss of credibility brought on by Trump’s election, they feed us dark natterings of how Trump and Putin are buddies.  Since the Trump hurricane blew in, it’s liberals who fear change and hate Russia.  Liberals have always loved Russia, pestering Reagan for calling Russia the evil empire.

The demonizers don’t like Trump’s family one bit and probably don’t care for G.K. Chesterton’s take on the role of the family: “The family is the only check on the state that can renew itself as eternally as the state and more naturally than the state.”

Trump’s detractors place the state above the family.  Today they are the ones who speak somberly of the dangers of change.

But Trump is a changer, and that’s another reason I love him.

Roger Hines

3/29/17