10. I've decided to buy a lawn mower.
9. I've decided to be one of those die hard St. Louis Cardinals Fans that paints his face and says, "Well, we're in a rebuilding season," whenever they suck.
8. I've decided to carry an air pump in the back of whatever vehicle in which I happen to be. I'm sure Lesley and friends with whom I ride will be annoyed, but I figure an air pump is like a gun: It's better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it.
7. I've decided to keep a "to do" list. It will be a piece of paper folded into 4 quadrants. Quadrant 1 are things that are important and emergent. Quadrant 2 are things that are important, but not emergent. Quadrant 3 are things that are not important, but emergent. Quadrant 4 is a list of names of people out of whom I would like to beat the living crap.
6. I've decided that under no circumstances will I ever again end a sentence with a preposition.
5. I've decided to get one of those support yard signs that says, "SUPPORT YARD SIGNS!" The exclamation point is important.
4. I've decided that exclamation points are important. That one just came to me.
3. I've decided to be a pessimist. That way I will spend my days in a pleasant state of surprise that things aren't nearly as bad as I thought they would be.
2. All of those emails I get in which people tell me about what offensive thing this person has done and how this group or company is about to screw me: I used to reply only to the sender with the appropriate http://www.snopes.com/ article debunking the particular myth or falsehood the email perpetuates. I've decided to start hitting "reply all." This serves 2 purposes: 1) It lets everyone else who received the email know it's a bunch of crap, and 2) It embarrasses the sender (hopefully enough to stop including me on those stupid emails).
1. Apparently there a lot of people who don't know when I'm joking with them and when I'm being serious. I've decided to stop telling them. This gives me a sadistic kind of pleasure.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
My Novena Begins
In the Catholic Church, we have these weird things like novenas and octaves. For example, Christmas and Easter are considered such high holy days that the celebration cannot be limited to a 24 hour period, so we celebrate them as an octave. Each day of the octave, including the actual day of celebration and the next 7 days after (for a total of 8 days), is given the same honor as the main date of celebration. December 26, for the Catholic Church, is as much Christmas Day (at least liturgically speaking) as December 25. And so is December 30. The Wednesday after Easter is as much "Easter Sunday" as...well...Easter Sunday.
A novena traditionally has been used as a means of preparation. We normally celebrate novenas the 9 days prior to a special event. At Kenrick-Glennon Seminary, we celebrated the Christmas Novena during Advent, which were 9 days of special prayers and "para-liturgy" with music, scriptures, and spiritual reflections in preparation for Christmas. Carmelite convents often celebrate a novena the 9 days prior to the feast of St. Theresa of Avila, the great mystic and reformer of the Carmelite order.
Today, September 21, the novena in preparation of my birthday begins. September 21-29, I celebrate in preparation of the fact that I was born on September 30. Then September 30-October 7 is the Octave of My Birth. This may seem a little bit narcissistic and self-aggrandizing...ok, it seems a lot narcissistic and self-aggrandizing, but let me explain.
I did not have to be born.
First, God did not have to see fit in his infinite wisdom that I exist at all. I could not have done anything prior to my birth that made me deserve this special gift of God that is life. I can guarantee that I have not done anything since I was born to deserve it (and sometimes I think I've done things that should have forfeited it). God created me out of the pure gift of His Love. That's it. Bottom line. End of story. I am alive because God loves me. So my celebration is not so much about me as it is a way for me to call to mind the incredible gift of my God's love.
Second, Roe Vs. Wade was adjudicated in January of 1973. I was born in September of 1973. That means that my mother could have chosen to abort me. I don't believe for a second that the thought ever even crossed her mind. Well, maybe for one second when my 10 and a half pound carcass came squeezing through, she may have thought, "Why the hell did I let this happen?" But I doubt it. But the fact remains that she was legally allowed to make that choice, and she didn't. That, too, was a gift of love. Having seen my own wife go through pregnancy has given me a new appreciation for what a gift of love a mother gives during those 9 months, and the years following. So I celebrate my mother's love.
Third, everything in my life is a gift. So I spend the Novena preparing for and Octave of My Birth remembering the gifts I have been given, life, Lesley, my kids, my home, my next breath, by giving gifts. I try each day of the Octave to give something to someone. I make a conscious effort to find an opportunity to make some small contribution to another person's life. It can be something as insignificant as springing for a diet coke. Each day, I try to stay mindfully aware of the opportunities I have to give to another. "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8b).
So here it is: The Novena in Preparation of My Birth has begun.
I love the gift of my life.
A novena traditionally has been used as a means of preparation. We normally celebrate novenas the 9 days prior to a special event. At Kenrick-Glennon Seminary, we celebrated the Christmas Novena during Advent, which were 9 days of special prayers and "para-liturgy" with music, scriptures, and spiritual reflections in preparation for Christmas. Carmelite convents often celebrate a novena the 9 days prior to the feast of St. Theresa of Avila, the great mystic and reformer of the Carmelite order.
Today, September 21, the novena in preparation of my birthday begins. September 21-29, I celebrate in preparation of the fact that I was born on September 30. Then September 30-October 7 is the Octave of My Birth. This may seem a little bit narcissistic and self-aggrandizing...ok, it seems a lot narcissistic and self-aggrandizing, but let me explain.
I did not have to be born.
First, God did not have to see fit in his infinite wisdom that I exist at all. I could not have done anything prior to my birth that made me deserve this special gift of God that is life. I can guarantee that I have not done anything since I was born to deserve it (and sometimes I think I've done things that should have forfeited it). God created me out of the pure gift of His Love. That's it. Bottom line. End of story. I am alive because God loves me. So my celebration is not so much about me as it is a way for me to call to mind the incredible gift of my God's love.
Second, Roe Vs. Wade was adjudicated in January of 1973. I was born in September of 1973. That means that my mother could have chosen to abort me. I don't believe for a second that the thought ever even crossed her mind. Well, maybe for one second when my 10 and a half pound carcass came squeezing through, she may have thought, "Why the hell did I let this happen?" But I doubt it. But the fact remains that she was legally allowed to make that choice, and she didn't. That, too, was a gift of love. Having seen my own wife go through pregnancy has given me a new appreciation for what a gift of love a mother gives during those 9 months, and the years following. So I celebrate my mother's love.
Third, everything in my life is a gift. So I spend the Novena preparing for and Octave of My Birth remembering the gifts I have been given, life, Lesley, my kids, my home, my next breath, by giving gifts. I try each day of the Octave to give something to someone. I make a conscious effort to find an opportunity to make some small contribution to another person's life. It can be something as insignificant as springing for a diet coke. Each day, I try to stay mindfully aware of the opportunities I have to give to another. "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8b).
So here it is: The Novena in Preparation of My Birth has begun.
I love the gift of my life.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Obama's Latest Failure Plan
Someone made the comment after hearing Obama's "Jobs Plan" speech to the joint congress, "Why didn't he give that speech 2 years ago?"
I said, "He did."
Obama's stimulus package when he first took office was 800 BILLION dollars to be dispersed for building of infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy. That was when unemployment was still at 8%. By making these "investments," he promised to put people back to work.
Well, 2 years later, unemployment is over 9%, which his administration has said should be the new expected normal. He wants to throw 450 BILLION dollars at what? Oh yeah, infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy companies. I wonder if it will be the same kinds of companies like the one being investigated now for defrauding the government out of 500 million dollars by cooking its books. (And Obama's administration's blaming of Bush's administration since the application was originally received during Bush's term is so characteristic it's become cliche.)
Obama gave this speech 2 years ago, and his 800 BILLION dollar "investment" didn't pay off. Unemployment rose. Congress had to increase the debt ceiling to keep us from going into default on the 16 TRILLION dollar deficit. And the economy is less stable now than it was when he took office.
What makes him think throwing 450 BILLION dollars more at it will help?
Obama is a fool in the biblical sense of the word.
And, frankly, I'm tired of his lies. "It's paid for," he says. Then charges the "supercommittee" overseeing budget reform to figure out how. I want an iPad. I'm currently trying to figure out how to pay for it.Why? Because I don't have it paid for. If I had it paid for already, I'd have it already! Does this make anybody else mad? I mean, seriously. Why do I feel so alone in being outraged?
I hate to say this, but I had this impression 2 years ago. Obama considers money like many of the mentally ill clients I have worked with through the years. One of the basic principles of budgeting that I tried to teach my clients in community support work:
When creating a budget, you don't start by listing all of the things you WANT, and then try to figure out how to pay for it. You start with the amount of money you HAVE, and then figure out what you can afford.
I don't blame Obama solely for this. The government has been practicing this ack-bass-words way of budgeting since FDR. But at some point, the cycle has to stop. The government in general is driving this nation over a cliff. Obama is the latest in a long history of irresponsible managers. I will state Obama's has been the most agregious. He was blaming Bush when he came to office for the deficit Bush created in 8 years of office. Obama then created the same amount as Bush in 2 and a half years.
Obama's answer to the "revenue shortfall," increasing "government revenue." That means higher taxes, folks. Right now, the poorest 50% of people in the United States pay NO taxes. The top 10% pay over 80% of taxes. Obama wants to tax the rich.
Here's a simple question: How much out of every dollar that you make do you think you deserve to keep?
Follow up question: Why should that amount be any different for any other person?
I heard a statement recently that made sense to me: In the United States, the government is a collaborative work of the people. The government does the work the people have decided needs to be done. That requires the people to pay for that work. So I think we should take a step back from the debate about "cutting spending vs. raising taxes" and have a more fundamental discussion:
What do WE THE PEOPLE define as the work of government?
That's a question for another blog post that I will write soon. But for now, I can tell you this: the answer was adopted on September 17, 1787.
I said, "He did."
Obama's stimulus package when he first took office was 800 BILLION dollars to be dispersed for building of infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy. That was when unemployment was still at 8%. By making these "investments," he promised to put people back to work.
Well, 2 years later, unemployment is over 9%, which his administration has said should be the new expected normal. He wants to throw 450 BILLION dollars at what? Oh yeah, infrastructure, schools, and "investments" in clean energy companies. I wonder if it will be the same kinds of companies like the one being investigated now for defrauding the government out of 500 million dollars by cooking its books. (And Obama's administration's blaming of Bush's administration since the application was originally received during Bush's term is so characteristic it's become cliche.)
Obama gave this speech 2 years ago, and his 800 BILLION dollar "investment" didn't pay off. Unemployment rose. Congress had to increase the debt ceiling to keep us from going into default on the 16 TRILLION dollar deficit. And the economy is less stable now than it was when he took office.
What makes him think throwing 450 BILLION dollars more at it will help?
Obama is a fool in the biblical sense of the word.
And, frankly, I'm tired of his lies. "It's paid for," he says. Then charges the "supercommittee" overseeing budget reform to figure out how. I want an iPad. I'm currently trying to figure out how to pay for it.Why? Because I don't have it paid for. If I had it paid for already, I'd have it already! Does this make anybody else mad? I mean, seriously. Why do I feel so alone in being outraged?
I hate to say this, but I had this impression 2 years ago. Obama considers money like many of the mentally ill clients I have worked with through the years. One of the basic principles of budgeting that I tried to teach my clients in community support work:
When creating a budget, you don't start by listing all of the things you WANT, and then try to figure out how to pay for it. You start with the amount of money you HAVE, and then figure out what you can afford.
I don't blame Obama solely for this. The government has been practicing this ack-bass-words way of budgeting since FDR. But at some point, the cycle has to stop. The government in general is driving this nation over a cliff. Obama is the latest in a long history of irresponsible managers. I will state Obama's has been the most agregious. He was blaming Bush when he came to office for the deficit Bush created in 8 years of office. Obama then created the same amount as Bush in 2 and a half years.
Obama's answer to the "revenue shortfall," increasing "government revenue." That means higher taxes, folks. Right now, the poorest 50% of people in the United States pay NO taxes. The top 10% pay over 80% of taxes. Obama wants to tax the rich.
Here's a simple question: How much out of every dollar that you make do you think you deserve to keep?
Follow up question: Why should that amount be any different for any other person?
I heard a statement recently that made sense to me: In the United States, the government is a collaborative work of the people. The government does the work the people have decided needs to be done. That requires the people to pay for that work. So I think we should take a step back from the debate about "cutting spending vs. raising taxes" and have a more fundamental discussion:
What do WE THE PEOPLE define as the work of government?
That's a question for another blog post that I will write soon. But for now, I can tell you this: the answer was adopted on September 17, 1787.
Friday, September 09, 2011
What's In a Name
I work in the mental health and substance abuse/addiction field. Over the last several years, there has developed a new awareness of labels. Instead of "schizophrenic," we're supposed to say "a person with schizophrenia." Instead of "addict," we're supposed to say "a person with addiction," or "a person with substance abuse/dependence." Instead of calling a person a "borderline," we're supposed to say, "a person with borderline personality disorder."
You get the idea.
The purpose for this is to avoid a label which identifies a person as one thing, and one thing only. To call a person with schizophrenia a "schizophrenic" suggests, according to the argument, that the person is defined by his or her schizophrenia, and that is the sum total of what they are. Of course a person with schizophrenia is multifaceted. Many work, have families, enjoy hobbies, and are active in their churches and communities. The proponents of the label awareness group state that because that is not all a person is, we should not define them by that. They should be thought of as a person with an illness, rather than the illness itself. Another reason is that so many of these mental health and substance use illnesses have stigma attached, it's a way of combating the stigma.
I'm not much for political correctness anyway, but this is another example of the perceptions of some dictating the reality for all.
Let me reframe this: I can say pretty confidently that I am a husband. Does that suggest in any way that this is the sum total of my identity? I am a father. Is that all I am? I don't have to say that I am a person who is married or a person with children, to understand that while these are essential features of what make me who I am, they are not the sum total of my identity. I am Catholic. That's not all I am. That religious label leaves out the idea that I am male, that I am married, that I have children, that I'm a counselor, and that I ride a motorcycle. I don't have a problem saying I'm Catholic, though. It's part of me.
Nathaniel is a hemophiliac. It doesn't matter whether I call him "a hemophiliac" or "a person with hemophilia." What I call him has no power over who he is or over his conditon. Do I want Nathaniel to be defined solely by his illness? Of course not. But calling him a hemophiliac no more defines him than calling him a Catholic. They are both important pieces of his identity, but neither name him as the sum total of who he is.
Some would say that the stigma about being married, having children, being a male or being Catholic is not like the stigma attached to mental health diagnoses. I would argue that anybody that thinks there's not a stigma attached to being Catholic is kidding himself. And if you think I'm not stigmatized when I tell people that I'm a biker in a motorcycle club, well...you are more open minded than most.
Seriously, the real issue is not what we call people. The idea that a name gives to a thing its essential quality is called nominalism. This is a strain of philosophy that states (simplistically put) that we assign a thing its essence by naming it. We all know that what I call a thing has nothing to do with the thing's essence. It's just a word that identifies it. "What's in a name?" quipped Shakespeare's Juliet, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." What we call something has no power either to define or to change a thing's essence. If we perceive schizophrenia or addiction or hemophilia or down's syndrome or Catholic or Baptist or Republican or Democrat as negative, calling it something else is not going to change what we perceive to be the negative qualities of that condition.
The real problem is the attitudes of some towards those with mental health diagnoses, or physical disability, or mental handicap, or differing religious or political views. I do not believe we can change a person's mind by changing the language that we use to talk about it. I've seen it too often: the look that glazes over some people's faces when I talk about addicts. It doesn't matter to these people whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction." No matter what I call it, the negative response is the same. Whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction", they hear someone with weak will power who should just be able to quit. It even exists within circles of the same group. For example, I work specifically in methadone assisted treatment with opioid addicts. As soon as I say that, other addicts get a look on their faces like I'm a drug pusher helping an opioid addict stay addicted, just switching the heroin for methadone. Stigma exist. Changing our language is not going to help confront the stigma.
What does help confront and resolve the stigma is honest conversation. We do not have to work at word games. When I experience stigma against my opioid addicts because they are receiving methadone assisted treatment, I meet it squarely. I open up the conversation and give accurate information. So often the reason for stigma against something is because those with stigma are uninformed. Accurate information does more to dissipate stigma than any word games we can play.
How do I keep Nathaniel's hemophilia from being the sole factor of his identity? I put it in perspective. I do not deny that he has hemophilia, and I'm willing to talk to anyone about it who doesn't understand it (giving information about it). I also will not allow him to define himself by it. As he grows, Lesley and I will give him information about it. I like Dirty Harry's idea, "A man's gotta know his limitations." As Nathaniel grows, I will encourage him to define his own boundaries, his own identity. He will, slowly and in age appropriate ways, decide what his hemophilia means to him, and how it will affect his behaviors. My job will be to give him age appropriate information about what hemophilia is and what consequences his behaviors may produce. He will be free age-appropriately to choose what to do and what no to do, and he will be responsible for the consequences.
I'm already fighting the fight against stigma with some family members about hypothetical situations in his life. On what playground equipment should he be allowed to play? Should he be allowed to ride a bicycle? In what sports activities should he participate? They all want to define these according to his hemophilia. I prefer that he should define these according to him.
In the end, we cannot be defined by one thing, no matter how essential that thing is to us. I would not be who I am if I were not Lesley's husband or Jacob, Caitlin and Nathaniel's father. These are essential to my identity. They are interrelated. I would not be Jacob, Caitlin or Nathaniel's father if it weren't for me first being Lesley's husband. Neither of these labels, however, define me exclusively. If anything were to happen, God forbid, to Lesley, I would still be my children's father. The same is true of being Lesley's husbad if we had no children. One label is not the sum total of who I am. Nathaniel's label of hemophilia is not the sum total of who he is. A person's addiction, mental health impairment, handicap, religious or political affiliation is not the sole criteria of the person's being. So suggesting that using label to describe a person necessarily excludes all other possiblities of the person's identity is inauthentic.
In the end, if I don't like a label, maybe what I should be changing is my own attitude toward those with that label. It's a lot easier to change myself than it is to change an entire language. And maybe by changing myself, I might be able to help others change, too.
You get the idea.
The purpose for this is to avoid a label which identifies a person as one thing, and one thing only. To call a person with schizophrenia a "schizophrenic" suggests, according to the argument, that the person is defined by his or her schizophrenia, and that is the sum total of what they are. Of course a person with schizophrenia is multifaceted. Many work, have families, enjoy hobbies, and are active in their churches and communities. The proponents of the label awareness group state that because that is not all a person is, we should not define them by that. They should be thought of as a person with an illness, rather than the illness itself. Another reason is that so many of these mental health and substance use illnesses have stigma attached, it's a way of combating the stigma.
I'm not much for political correctness anyway, but this is another example of the perceptions of some dictating the reality for all.
Let me reframe this: I can say pretty confidently that I am a husband. Does that suggest in any way that this is the sum total of my identity? I am a father. Is that all I am? I don't have to say that I am a person who is married or a person with children, to understand that while these are essential features of what make me who I am, they are not the sum total of my identity. I am Catholic. That's not all I am. That religious label leaves out the idea that I am male, that I am married, that I have children, that I'm a counselor, and that I ride a motorcycle. I don't have a problem saying I'm Catholic, though. It's part of me.
Nathaniel is a hemophiliac. It doesn't matter whether I call him "a hemophiliac" or "a person with hemophilia." What I call him has no power over who he is or over his conditon. Do I want Nathaniel to be defined solely by his illness? Of course not. But calling him a hemophiliac no more defines him than calling him a Catholic. They are both important pieces of his identity, but neither name him as the sum total of who he is.
Some would say that the stigma about being married, having children, being a male or being Catholic is not like the stigma attached to mental health diagnoses. I would argue that anybody that thinks there's not a stigma attached to being Catholic is kidding himself. And if you think I'm not stigmatized when I tell people that I'm a biker in a motorcycle club, well...you are more open minded than most.
Seriously, the real issue is not what we call people. The idea that a name gives to a thing its essential quality is called nominalism. This is a strain of philosophy that states (simplistically put) that we assign a thing its essence by naming it. We all know that what I call a thing has nothing to do with the thing's essence. It's just a word that identifies it. "What's in a name?" quipped Shakespeare's Juliet, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." What we call something has no power either to define or to change a thing's essence. If we perceive schizophrenia or addiction or hemophilia or down's syndrome or Catholic or Baptist or Republican or Democrat as negative, calling it something else is not going to change what we perceive to be the negative qualities of that condition.
The real problem is the attitudes of some towards those with mental health diagnoses, or physical disability, or mental handicap, or differing religious or political views. I do not believe we can change a person's mind by changing the language that we use to talk about it. I've seen it too often: the look that glazes over some people's faces when I talk about addicts. It doesn't matter to these people whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction." No matter what I call it, the negative response is the same. Whether I say "addict" or "a person with addiction", they hear someone with weak will power who should just be able to quit. It even exists within circles of the same group. For example, I work specifically in methadone assisted treatment with opioid addicts. As soon as I say that, other addicts get a look on their faces like I'm a drug pusher helping an opioid addict stay addicted, just switching the heroin for methadone. Stigma exist. Changing our language is not going to help confront the stigma.
What does help confront and resolve the stigma is honest conversation. We do not have to work at word games. When I experience stigma against my opioid addicts because they are receiving methadone assisted treatment, I meet it squarely. I open up the conversation and give accurate information. So often the reason for stigma against something is because those with stigma are uninformed. Accurate information does more to dissipate stigma than any word games we can play.
How do I keep Nathaniel's hemophilia from being the sole factor of his identity? I put it in perspective. I do not deny that he has hemophilia, and I'm willing to talk to anyone about it who doesn't understand it (giving information about it). I also will not allow him to define himself by it. As he grows, Lesley and I will give him information about it. I like Dirty Harry's idea, "A man's gotta know his limitations." As Nathaniel grows, I will encourage him to define his own boundaries, his own identity. He will, slowly and in age appropriate ways, decide what his hemophilia means to him, and how it will affect his behaviors. My job will be to give him age appropriate information about what hemophilia is and what consequences his behaviors may produce. He will be free age-appropriately to choose what to do and what no to do, and he will be responsible for the consequences.
I'm already fighting the fight against stigma with some family members about hypothetical situations in his life. On what playground equipment should he be allowed to play? Should he be allowed to ride a bicycle? In what sports activities should he participate? They all want to define these according to his hemophilia. I prefer that he should define these according to him.
In the end, we cannot be defined by one thing, no matter how essential that thing is to us. I would not be who I am if I were not Lesley's husband or Jacob, Caitlin and Nathaniel's father. These are essential to my identity. They are interrelated. I would not be Jacob, Caitlin or Nathaniel's father if it weren't for me first being Lesley's husband. Neither of these labels, however, define me exclusively. If anything were to happen, God forbid, to Lesley, I would still be my children's father. The same is true of being Lesley's husbad if we had no children. One label is not the sum total of who I am. Nathaniel's label of hemophilia is not the sum total of who he is. A person's addiction, mental health impairment, handicap, religious or political affiliation is not the sole criteria of the person's being. So suggesting that using label to describe a person necessarily excludes all other possiblities of the person's identity is inauthentic.
In the end, if I don't like a label, maybe what I should be changing is my own attitude toward those with that label. It's a lot easier to change myself than it is to change an entire language. And maybe by changing myself, I might be able to help others change, too.
Thursday, September 01, 2011
Wyman's Place in My Poem
Edited: The parts in italics below I added prior to going through my prepared remarks:
I wrote out what I wanted to say today and showed it to my wife. She told me I was remiss in not mentioning one of her favorite stories about Wyman that I told her. I forget where we were, but Wyman and I were at a public gathering of some kind, and someone that hadn't seen her in years walked up to her and made the remark, "You haven't changed a bit." Wyman was very gracious to her, and when the lady walked away, Wyman turned to me and said, "I hate it when people say that, because it means I looked older than dirt 10 years ago."
I remember the first time I met Dr. Wyman. I was a transfer student in to Lincoln and told her I wanted to study English Literature. She asked me what my favorite poem was. I told her Good Friday Riding Westward 1613 by John Donne. She responded, "Ooh, I'm going to like you."
I can’t tell you how honored I am that I was asked to speak today. I continued to call Dr. Wyman “Dr. Wyman” after I graduated from Lincoln. She and I were eating lunch together one day, and she asked me about that. I told her that it was kind of awkward for me to call her Linda, but I knew that “Dr. Wyman” was too formal. She said, “When you think of me in your head, what do you call me?” I said, “Usually just Wyman.” She said, “Well then, you should call me just Wyman.”
You’ll have to forgive me, that’s still the way I think of her in my head.
Wyman had a love for T.S. Eliot. That’s no secret to any one here. I can’t help but think of an image that T.S. Eliot used when he discussed the great literature of the ages. He used the image of a book shelf, in which a great work of literature takes its place. Of course, when you add a book to a book shelf, all of the other books in the book shelf need to be adjusted. The great works of literature do not stand alone, but stand with every other great work through out history, and affect our experience of all of those great works that came before and will come after.
Another image Eliot uses is a “sentence that is right, (where every word is at home, taking its place to support the others).” A word is just a word, but in the context of a sentence, it creates a commerce with all of the other words that both receives its beauty from them, and contributes beauty to them, until they all become poetry.
That is Wyman. Wyman’s life is a great work of literature among the lives of others.
Wyman is one of the” words” of my life that has contributed to the beauty of my life. I hope in some way I was able to contribute to the poetry of hers.
She dedicated her life to shedding light on the great writers and people that had come before her, and has had an impact on all of those who entered her wake and followed her. I know that she changed my life. She introduced me to Dylan Thomas and Ezra Pound and to her beloved T.S. Eliot. She helped me understand Gerard Manley Hopkins. Funny story about that. We were in the Modern Poetry Class reading Gerard Manley Hopkins. There was a young student in the class who considered himself enlightened. He offered a veiled criticism of Hopkins’s religious themes in his poetry one day by saying, “I love what he does with the language of his poetry. It’s sad that the focus of his writing was so narrow.” To which Wyman responded, “God, man, the universe, that’s pretty narrow.”
It wasn’t just by introducing me to literature that my life was changed. My life was changed by her very presence. She was there for me when a lot of other folks weren’t, or probably more accurately, she found a way in when I wouldn’t let a lot of other folks be there for me. She touched my life more deeply than I have words to express. She was one of those types of friends that we could go long periods without seeing each other, but when we would see each other, it was like we had never been apart. After one of our lunches together, I went home and wrote a poem that I dedicated to her. I hope you will indulge me if I read it to you. It’s called “Being: For LW.”
In the little restaurant
At the intersection of Smith and Grace
The clock on the far wall was broken.
We appreciated each other's company
By choosing to fall
Into a comfortable silence;
To stare out the window
Which allowed the breeze
To threaten our napkins;
To admire how wise the sky
For being blue,
The trees for being green,
The poets for using rhyme
(Or not).
When we did speak, we spoke nothing.
We worked our lunch about our plates,
But that was the extent of it.
The smell of fried chicken still takes me there,
Like incense reminding a monk of prayer.
I wrote that poem after that lunch that day and brought it to her. She said to me, "Wow, that turned into poetry fast." I said, "Wyman, it was poetry all along." She nodded her head and said, "Wasn't it though?"
The restaurant at which we ate that day really was on the corner of Smith Street and Grace Street. That’s one of those” coincidences” that seemed to follow Wyman everywhere she went.
I was asked if I would close with a prayer today. I will, but first I would like to read in a spirit of prayer the 5th segment of Little Gidding, which is Number 4 of T.S. Eliot’s 4 quartets:
“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.
With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.”
Let us Pray: Eternal rest grant unto her, Oh Lord. And let perpetual shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Besides this, the only other prayer I can offer is one of thanksgiving that I was blessed to know her: Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to get to know this humble, beautiful woman. Thank you, God. Amen.
I wrote out what I wanted to say today and showed it to my wife. She told me I was remiss in not mentioning one of her favorite stories about Wyman that I told her. I forget where we were, but Wyman and I were at a public gathering of some kind, and someone that hadn't seen her in years walked up to her and made the remark, "You haven't changed a bit." Wyman was very gracious to her, and when the lady walked away, Wyman turned to me and said, "I hate it when people say that, because it means I looked older than dirt 10 years ago."
I remember the first time I met Dr. Wyman. I was a transfer student in to Lincoln and told her I wanted to study English Literature. She asked me what my favorite poem was. I told her Good Friday Riding Westward 1613 by John Donne. She responded, "Ooh, I'm going to like you."
I can’t tell you how honored I am that I was asked to speak today. I continued to call Dr. Wyman “Dr. Wyman” after I graduated from Lincoln. She and I were eating lunch together one day, and she asked me about that. I told her that it was kind of awkward for me to call her Linda, but I knew that “Dr. Wyman” was too formal. She said, “When you think of me in your head, what do you call me?” I said, “Usually just Wyman.” She said, “Well then, you should call me just Wyman.”
You’ll have to forgive me, that’s still the way I think of her in my head.
Wyman had a love for T.S. Eliot. That’s no secret to any one here. I can’t help but think of an image that T.S. Eliot used when he discussed the great literature of the ages. He used the image of a book shelf, in which a great work of literature takes its place. Of course, when you add a book to a book shelf, all of the other books in the book shelf need to be adjusted. The great works of literature do not stand alone, but stand with every other great work through out history, and affect our experience of all of those great works that came before and will come after.
Another image Eliot uses is a “sentence that is right, (where every word is at home, taking its place to support the others).” A word is just a word, but in the context of a sentence, it creates a commerce with all of the other words that both receives its beauty from them, and contributes beauty to them, until they all become poetry.
That is Wyman. Wyman’s life is a great work of literature among the lives of others.
Wyman is one of the” words” of my life that has contributed to the beauty of my life. I hope in some way I was able to contribute to the poetry of hers.
She dedicated her life to shedding light on the great writers and people that had come before her, and has had an impact on all of those who entered her wake and followed her. I know that she changed my life. She introduced me to Dylan Thomas and Ezra Pound and to her beloved T.S. Eliot. She helped me understand Gerard Manley Hopkins. Funny story about that. We were in the Modern Poetry Class reading Gerard Manley Hopkins. There was a young student in the class who considered himself enlightened. He offered a veiled criticism of Hopkins’s religious themes in his poetry one day by saying, “I love what he does with the language of his poetry. It’s sad that the focus of his writing was so narrow.” To which Wyman responded, “God, man, the universe, that’s pretty narrow.”
It wasn’t just by introducing me to literature that my life was changed. My life was changed by her very presence. She was there for me when a lot of other folks weren’t, or probably more accurately, she found a way in when I wouldn’t let a lot of other folks be there for me. She touched my life more deeply than I have words to express. She was one of those types of friends that we could go long periods without seeing each other, but when we would see each other, it was like we had never been apart. After one of our lunches together, I went home and wrote a poem that I dedicated to her. I hope you will indulge me if I read it to you. It’s called “Being: For LW.”
In the little restaurant
At the intersection of Smith and Grace
The clock on the far wall was broken.
We appreciated each other's company
By choosing to fall
Into a comfortable silence;
To stare out the window
Which allowed the breeze
To threaten our napkins;
To admire how wise the sky
For being blue,
The trees for being green,
The poets for using rhyme
(Or not).
When we did speak, we spoke nothing.
We worked our lunch about our plates,
But that was the extent of it.
The smell of fried chicken still takes me there,
Like incense reminding a monk of prayer.
I wrote that poem after that lunch that day and brought it to her. She said to me, "Wow, that turned into poetry fast." I said, "Wyman, it was poetry all along." She nodded her head and said, "Wasn't it though?"
The restaurant at which we ate that day really was on the corner of Smith Street and Grace Street. That’s one of those” coincidences” that seemed to follow Wyman everywhere she went.
I was asked if I would close with a prayer today. I will, but first I would like to read in a spirit of prayer the 5th segment of Little Gidding, which is Number 4 of T.S. Eliot’s 4 quartets:
“What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails
On a winter's afternoon, in a secluded chapel
History is now and England.
With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.”
Let us Pray: Eternal rest grant unto her, Oh Lord. And let perpetual shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.
Besides this, the only other prayer I can offer is one of thanksgiving that I was blessed to know her: Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to get to know this humble, beautiful woman. Thank you, God. Amen.
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