What is tragedy?

Tonight I was watching the news and saw reports of armed conflict throughout the world.  I thought what a tragedy that the intellectual capacity and gifts of man are applied to devising war—where the bottom line is to kill or be killed.  Then I thought of police in domestic society who have to turn intellectual capacity and gifts to maintaining order against crime, domestic violence, alcohol and drug abuse, illegal firearms, robbery, murder, even in comparison less serious matters as enforcing traffic laws and answering disturbing the peace calls.  Surely the necessity of expending intellectual capacity and gifts on such domestic societal failures is also a tragedy.  Then I thought of dead end or monotonous jobs, and said to myself surely that is a tragedy too.  All of the potential skills, intellectual capacity and gifts directed at mundane tasks.  Surely any kind of work that does not require constant creative challenge is a misuse of human potential.  But even creativity is subject to tragedy—where tons of effort and creativity are directed to less than momentous (even frivolous) ends.  And even “serious” creative efforts can be seen to have empty and tragic elements.  I am reminded of Edison’s comment: “None of my inventions came by accident. I see a worthwhile need to be met and I make trial after trial until it comes. What it boils down to is one per cent inspiration and ninety-nine per cent perspiration” (http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Thomas_Edison). Even creativity is 99% trial and error, setbacks, and failure.  What we see is that human tragedy is in the end redeemed by a positive social purpose.  Virtually every activity that is not starkly antisocial is so redeemed.  In the willful human context, tragedy is when intellectual capacity and gifts are turned to antisocial purposes.  It is a tragedy that man can have these drives to harm others and simultaneously self-destruct.  The ultimate tragedy may well be an ethical fissure somewhere deep within the brain.   

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Back Again

Back again in Saint Petersburg, and quickly reminded that family is not only blood relatives and in-laws.  DeAngelo has his twentieth birthday this coming Monday, so I went with him to IHOP to celebrate then to the mall for a birthday present—new shoes and shorts.  Kunte called to see how our trip to the east coast went.  Ruby called to check on Kathy's health.  And Kathy and I had lunch today with Dennis.  Last evening our son Alton called from prison in Jasper.  There’s nothing like the feel of connectedness to make the world seem solid.  There’s nothing like love to make one feel worthwhile.  

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Last Day at the Paradise Hotel

I am now sitting in the lobby of the Hammock Beach Resort.  It’s a very swank and spacious place complete with a lit fireplace on one end.  This morning on the beach Kathy and I watched the sun rise and marveled at the vastness of the horizon and the antics of a sandpiper.  The surf covered our feet.  This afternoon the family visited St. Augustine focusing on St. George Street.  We toured shops and an Orthodox shrine later having lunch at a pub.  We returned the eighteen miles to the resort where we have become accustomed to sweeping extravagance.  We will need rehab to wean ourselves off these luxuries.

Tomorrow (Wednesday) the two of us head back to Saint Petersburg.  All in all it seems like a long way from Saint Petersburg and work.  Now Hammock Beach Resort is home.  This is the life to which we have become accustomed.  Maybe it’s now time to go back up to the suite overlooking the Atlantic, close the door, and take a cold shower.

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On the Beach

I began the day early walking along the beach as waves rolled in from the Atlantic.  The sun was rising casting a bright blaze over the water.  Several sandpipers sped about pecking for food as the spent waves quickly receded back into the ocean. I put my feet in the Atlantic for the first time since I was with my parents on a vacation as a teenager.  The waves rolled over my feet and I looked down and took a snapshot.  I thought of the blessings I’ve had throughout my life.  For a brief emotional moment I wondered if this would be the last time I would feel the warm Atlantic bathe over my feet.  Not long after resuming my walk, a couple appeared strolling towards me down the beach.  They greeted me in an especially cheerful way and we stopped to talk.  “Isn’t God’s creation magnificent?  Man could not make anything like this;” the woman said sweeping her arm towards the horizon.  I returned to the resort to join family.  After breakfast we went tubing on the lazy river, then Kathy, mom, and I sat chatting in a sauna pool.  It was a fun and happy day because I felt privileged, not primarily for material goods (though they are abundant here), but for considerate people and for the bequest of consciousness itself.   

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Keeping it Real in Shorts and Sandals

Yesterday we arrived at Hammock Beach Resort in Palm Coast, Florida.  This is on the Atlantic east coast of northern Florida.  Jim, my brother-in-law, told me that if I think the resort’s facilities are great, wait till I experience the service.  It took me about two seconds to get used to complete bellhop and valet services.  (The gratuity is attached to the bill at the end of the stay.  There is a strict “no tipping” policy, so one is spared frequent self-evaluations as to whether one is tipping enough.)  We walked over the grounds Sunday, deciding some of the activities we would be doing today.  There are multiple pools—one surrounded by white beach sand—and a lazy river ride. On the lazy river ride you float on yellow circular tubes along a winding course periodically going by or beneath devices to soak you with water spray.  I was at first a little apprehensive about visiting with new relatives until Jim made it clear that for him keeping it real is of first importance.  I had made a Shrek type comment last evening that I brought enough changes of clothes so that if I had had diarrhea three times already, I would still have multiple changes available.  Jim gave me a high-five and was relieved to find that his fairly new brother-in-law conceded to having bodily functions.  In other words, the multi-million dollar resort need not be an extravagant staging area for taxing attempts to keep up appearances.  We can, instead, be free to love and trust one another and to enjoy ourselves.  Indeed, despite all the amenities, how sad and depressing paradise would be otherwise.

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Carefully Taught

All my life I have heard stories about Jesus.  Sometimes I have asked myself, what if non-believers are right, what if these stories are just made up.  What if Jesus’s miracles and his death and especially resurrection never actually happened?  What if my father and brother dedicated their lives to ministering from nothing but myth?  What if Santa Claus on his yearly treks from the North Pole at Christmas and Christ are on equal footing? When I asked those questions and yet feared them not, that’s when I appreciated the importance of indoctrination.  I have been carefully taught that original sin and redemption pretty much encompass the story of mankind. I have been carefully taught that the love of God is personal and universal and undergirds the structure of effective life and thought.  I have been carefully taught that forgiveness is essential.  I have been carefully taught that humility and generosity are big and that false pride and selfishness are small.  I have been carefully taught that there are verities that are eternal and are as accessible and real as dirt.  I have been carefully taught to respect the babe in a manger more than those relying for worth on the trappings of power.  I have been carefully taught that empathy is fundamental to intelligence.  I have been carefully taught that prayer from the faithful heart is not wasted breath.  I have been carefully taught that death while real is not for man the last word--but to allow for mystery, for realities only grasped in intimations forever beyond the reach of microscopes.  I have been carefully taught to value each day and hour—to live it committed to the lessons I have been carefully taught; and in this way to worship God, witness for Christ, and live in love a life of significance.  Someone so carefully taught cannot be expected to become a non-believer overnight. 

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Wait Not

I'm sixty-six years old,
People ask me "When do you plan to retire?"
I am baffled by the question,
I haven't given it much thought,
I'm in a state of denial,
I want things to continue on as before
Work, and love, and getting and spending,
It doesn't seem attractive that I must live on a fixed income,
Cooking beans and spaghetti on the stove,
Waiting for God on the cheap.


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