ARGO

In 1979, while the deposed Shaw of Iran was in the United States, Iranians stormed the American Embassy in Tehran and took all but six of the Americans hostage.  The six escaped out the back door of the embassy as the front door was being stormed.  They made their way to the the home of the Canadian Ambassador to Iran where they were kept in hiding.  A while later they escaped to Canada.

It wasn't until the story of their release was declassified by President Clinton that the world learned how they were freed.  I remember reading the story and not quite being able to get my head around it.

Iran was so hostile to America at that time that an American could not possibly have safely entered or left the country.  But a CIA guy hatched a scheme whereby he would pretend to be a Hollywood producer with six Canadian staffers scouting sites for a cheesy science fiction movie called ARGO.

Because almost any country in the world, no matter how much they hate America, loves Hollywood.

Dave and I saw the movie ARGO last night.  Not the science fiction one but the one that tells this unbelievable story about duping the Iranians and getting these six Americans out of the country.  Even though  we knew ahead of time how the story ended, we were on pins and needles throughout the entire film.

Directed by and staring Ben Affleck, the film reminds us of how volatile the middle east was at that time.  To me, it was a very real depiction of what was happening.   We need to be reminded that this is a very old crisis.  And we need to be reminded of our history in this area of the world.

Later, in January of 1981, the day of Ronald Reagan's inauguration as president of the United States, all of the American hostages were released.

I remember that day well because I was in the middle east at the time.  I was sitting in a restaurant in Jerusalem when a man ran in and shouted that the hostages  had just been released.  There was lots of commotion and then two Americans stood up and began singing "God Bless America."  And then every American in the restaurant stood up and joined them.

If you can get past the constant smoking, the liberal use of the F-word and horrible looking black beards (namely the one on Ben Affleck) you will be glad you saw this movie.  It will give you great insight into our current situation.


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Scary Stories

It's almost Halloween.  One of my favorite holidays.  Dave and I walked and talked on Park Avenue this morning while watching little kids in costumes being treated by merchants on the Avenue.  One of the jewelers wore a very scary mask.

Dave has lots of stories.  None that I know of about Halloween but some very scary - to me!.  He gave me permission to share this one.  It's interesting in light of how protective we are of our kids these days.

When Dave was seven years old he was sent from Malaysia to the States on a freighter accompanied by a family he didn't know.  But that's not the scary story.

This is.

When the ship reached San Diego, little seven year old Dave needed to get to Kansas where his aunt would meet him.  Somehow a woman was found who was accompanying a corpse to the east coast.  She agreed to also look after little Dave.  So he, the woman and the corpse boarded the train to ride cross country.

When they reached Topeka, Kansas, Dave got off and was met by his Aunt Lora, whom he did not know at the time.  She took him to his Uncle Rod's (whom he did not know) home to spend the night before traveling on to Independence, Kansas where he would start a new life....

...as a skinny little kid with an English accent who'd never known life outside Malaysia and India and therefore had never seen a Kansas snowstorm.

But that's another scary story for another time.


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Park Avenue - The Center of the World

Everything worth seeing eventually happens on Park Avenue and in Central Park.  No not the "Parks" in New York City.  I'm talking, of course, about charming downtown Winter Park, Florida.

This morning Dave and I attended a meeting at our church which is right around the corner from Park Avenue.  Afterward, we walked to the Avenue, sat outside at a little French restaurant and shared a croissant sandwich and a French pastry.  (Yes, it was to die for.)

We read in the paper just yesterday that Ann Romney was coming to Central Park to speak from the bandstand this afternoon at 4:00 P.M.  The park borders the West side of Park Avenue for about four blocks.  This is what much of the  East side looks like.

Not much happening when we arrived but as we ate our lunch, things started buzzing.  Guys with phones appeared.  Cars began filling up the side streets.  Park Avenue was blocked off and cars there began  disappearing.  Romney T shirted folks began showing up all over the sidewalk.

We walked around a bit.  Quite exciting.  This afternoon, downtown Winter Park will be one of the centers of the universe, in a way.

You know how much I love this place.  And how thrilling it is to have so many things happening.

But, like everyone else in the country and the world, I will be so happy when this campaign is over and we can all get back to the normal celebrations.


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Questioning My Faith

Do you ever question your faith?  Or your lack of faith?  Or your core values?  I do it all the time.

A few weeks ago Dave and I saw a disturbing movie.  "The Master," directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.  It's about a guy who comes home from World War II a total mess - but then is taken in by a cult.  It's an expose of the beginnings of Scientology featuring a thinly veiled account of the life of L. Ron Hubbard.

(And here I thought "South Park" had already given us the full scoop on Scientology.)

But the thing is that, throughout history cults, built around the personality of a charismatic leader, have been popping up.  This was happening way B.C.

In the movie, Freddie, played by Joaquin Phoenix, has had so much pain and suffering, capped off by whatever atrocities he experienced in the war, that he's been reduced to living like an animal.  He's disgusting.  Then he is befriended by this charming cult leader, played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman, seen here.

As I said before, this film is disturbing and disgusting.  But I can't get it out of my head.  One reason is that I could see some similarities in this little band of elitist people to established religions.  The followers were willing to give up themselves and their money to this charming but silly con man, no questions asked.  People who questioned the cause were beaten up.

In the end Freddie turned his back on the cult.  But an interesting point that came to me days after seeing the movie was that, despite all the terrible mind control  games and manipulating going on,  he left the cult a little better person.

My take on that is that he was living totally alone in total chaos.  And a little family-like structure, no matter how sick, seems to trump that.

I'm not suggesting you see this movie.  Many of you would be offended by it.  More of you would be bored by it.  Most of you would leave the theater thinking what was that about?

As I said in the beginning, it made me, one more time, question my faith.  And one more time, the answer is yes.


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My Name is Brad Pitt....

....and I'm a drug addict.

Last week when Eugene Jarecki's new film "The House I Live In" premiered in Hollywood to a very small audience, they were surprised to see Pitt walk out and, by way of introducing the movie, made the above statement.

The film is about the 40 years long failed war on drugs.  Those of you who've read this blog for a while know that I have big issues with the way we handle this problem...and other problems.  Namely, by throwing folks in prison.  If you are young, black, poor, and/or a veteran of any war since WWII - and you have a drug problem -  you're thrown in prison.

Here's an example of some positive results from this remedy for a serious problem:  More and bigger prisons, more money for both government and private prisons, more money for vendors, etc.

Here are some negative results:  Ruined lives and not even a dent in the drug problem.

Did you know that, traditionally, prosecution for using crack is many times more harsh than prosecution for using cocaine?  What's the difference?  None.  They're the same drug. It's just that one's used more by the poor and the other's used more by the well to do.

In his introduction Mr. Pitt goes on to say that he hasn't used drugs in many years but he could still go to almost any city in American and get any drugs a person could want within 24 hours.   Yes, he's Brad Pitt so he could get almost anything he wanted period - but his point is that this problem hasn't changed.

If you have the opportunity, please see this documentary "The House I Live In."  It will make you think.


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Do What I'm Tellin' Ya!

What do these two guys have in common?

On Friday Dave and I saw two movies.  In the afternoon we went to the Enzian to see the new 2012 film "Arbitrage" with the yummy Richard Gere.

As Col. Potter used to say on MASH, "there aren't enough o's in the word smooth" to describe Mr. Gere.

That same night we went to bed and watched the 1950 version of  "Born Yesterday" staring the excellent but always scruffy actor Broderick Crawford.  And also staring Judy Holliday who won an Academy Award that year for this film.  It's one of my favorites.

In "Born Yesterday" Crawford plays an uncouth international junk dealing tycoon who yells at, threatens,and slaps people around.  Including Judy Holliday.  His favorite phrase is "Do what I'm tellin' ya!"

In "Arbitrage" Gere plays a smooth as glass, gentile but troubled hedge fund magnet.  He never raises his voice.  But he also expects all of the people around him to do exactly what he tells them to do.  And while I'm sure he'd never hit a woman, he does kill one.

Interesting to see these two movies (on the same day) with these two actors playing two sides of the same coin.


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The Call

Dave and I often discuss the word "Calling."  What does it mean?  Folks usually think religious like "He's been called to the seminary....or the monastery."  Or, "She's been called to the convent.... or the mission field."

I think it's way more than that. It may be a spiritual concept but it can apply to many things.

This morning I read a chapter in my Joan Chittister book called "How Do I Know I'm Doing What I'm Meant to Do?" (With what poet Mary Oliver calls "your one wild and precious life.")  Most of humanity never even contemplates this.  Most get caught up in silly stuff or serious obligations way before they give it a thought.  But, in this chapter, Chittister gives us seven clues as to whether or not we're pursuing an authentic call.

1.  Are we looking for something that fits our skills not something that fits someone else's ideas of what they would like to see us do.   As a consultant, I used to work with plenty of unhappy folks who were doing work somebody else (parents mostly) decided was best for them.

2.  A real call in life is for something that goes beyond interest or ability.  A real call strikes white, hot passion.  Remember a few weeks ago I shared a story with you about a woman who feels this way about her job in a toll booth.  Which leads us to...

3.  My call is what drives me beyond both talent and passion to a sense of purpose.

4.  My call presents itself as a thorn in my heart as the sight of another's pain.  When I worked at a children's home in the 90s I was amazed to see upscale hairdressers arrive on campus (free of charge and at their on expense)  to do the hair and nails of these fragile kids for special events like first proms.

5.  When I am following my call, I lose all sense of time.

6.  I am as much expanded by whatever it is that I'm doing as it is by me.  I've certainly found this to be true in my work, even the "work" I'm dong right now as I'm typing this.

7.  To become what I am born to do, what I am uniquely capable of doing is, in the end, good for the soul as well as for the work.  It changes me.  I find out that happiness is a lot less and a lot more than I ever expected. 

Tomorrow morning Dave and I are taking our good friends to the airport for their flight to Kenya.  They're going with a team of medical professionals to work for a few days with children who, mostly because of the HIV/AIDS epidemic on the African continent, are orphaned and must care for themselves and their younger siblings.

Why aren't we going with them?  First, we're not qualified but also we're not called.  And you pretty much need to be called to do this.  I'm grateful that they are.


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Near Death Experience

I've never had a near death experience - that I know of.  Over the years I've talked with folks who've told me they have. Some have seemed credible to me - some have not.  That's mostly been due to the person telling me.

Like most people, I've also read a few books on the subject.  I'm a logical person so I've questioned most of it.  When my husband, Ken, died, a couple of people gave me books about near death experiences.  They weren't helpful.

I'm not very Woo Woo. I have a strong belief in afterlife but I try to keep an open mind about what's real and what's not, in terms of evidence.  The vast majority of my evidence is from two thousand years ago.

All that said, this week's Newsweek magazine's front cover says "Heaven is Real....A Doctor's Experience of the Afterlife."

That's an intriguing cover for Newsweek.

Inside is an excerpt from a new book by Eben Alexander, an academic neurosurgeon at Harvard Medical School.

In his book titled "Proof of Heaven" Dr. Alexander tells a remarkable story of his journey to heaven while being in a coma for eight days.  It's a beautiful story.  He experienced amazing love.  

Not a particularly religious man prior to this experience, Dr. Alexander is changed.  He now says this.

The plain fact is that the materialist picture of the body and brain as the producers, rather than the vehicles, of human consciousness is doomed.  

He goes on to say....This new picture of reality will take a long time to put together....But, in essence, it will show the universe as evolving, multidimensional, and known down to its very last atom by a God who cares for us even more deeply and fiercely than any parent ever loved their child. 

The messages Dr. Alexander brought back with him are, in part,  "You are loved and cherished dearly, forever."  "You have nothing t fear."  If I ever have a near death experience, this would be exactly the same message I'd like to bring back.

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Boundaries

Some folks kid me about not liking to hug.  It's not (altogether) true.  I do like to hug - just not people whom I don't know and want to hug me because they have some sort of agenda.

I used to know an usher who tried to hug every woman who entered the church. Not cool!

During the 80s the Charismatic Movement abounded in several denominations, including United Methodist.  A couple of times, when I went to the United Methodist Retreat Center to lead some other group, these charismatic groups would commandeer every entrance to the dining room and force us regular Methodists into bear hugs before we could enter.  Not cool!

While I've traditionally been a person who's tried to help break down all kinds of barriers, sometimes, walls, whether literal or metaphorical, are good things.

In the wonderful Robert Frost poem called "The Mending Wall," he deals with this very subject.   In the poem, he and his next door neighbor are undertaking their annual task of mending the stone wall between their properties.  They have to do this after hunting season because the hunters always damage the wall. But Frost  has ambivalent feelings.  He starts out saying:

Something there is that doesn't love a wall.

But his neighbor replies,

Good fences make good neighbors.

Frost goes on to say that it's not like they have livestock (cows) to protect.  "My apple trees will never get across..."  But his friend again replies,

Good fences make good neighbors. 

Walls, literal or metaphorical, protect.  But they also divide.  It's a trick sometimes trying to figure out how far to get into another guy's space.   It's true with countries and well as lovers.  Believe me, I know.  I like to discuss everything.  Immediately.

But, like Mr. Frost, I need to be sensitive about who I'm walling in and who I'm walling out.

***

Let Me Tell You How to Vote!

I just had a phone call from Stan Van Gundy,  former coach of The Magic.  He wants me to vote YES on one of the many, many amendments to the Florida Constitution that are listed on our ballet this time around.

While I was on the treadmill this afternoon I listened to several scenarios regarding the "Fiscal Cliff" that we'll all be falling off of at the end of 2012 if we don't vote right.

But it's too late.  I received my absentee ballot in the mail yesterday.  It's done.

How are you deciding on the candidates and issues?  My late mother-in-law, Ken's mom, used to vote based on who was better looking.  She would have had a problem with Bush/Gore, because I think they (at that time) looked a lot alike.

Some folks are voting based on who most scares the bejeebers out of them.  Some folks vote the way somebody else tells them to, or the way their parents voted.  Lots of folks vote for who they think will make them richer.  Some folks vote a straight party ticket - so they just make one decision and go for it.

Here's what I did.  I researched every candidate - and every amendment.  It's so much easier now that we have the World Wide Web. It  would be easier still if I just voted my prejudices.  But I tried very hard to be brave, to vote my values, as a woman, a Christian, a person who is supposed to care about everybody in the world.

Because, of course, our leadership does affect the whole world.

But here's the thing.  I don't believe that the world as we know it will come to an end if the wrong folks get into office.  We have some significant issues - but  I'm not leaving the country if my candidates don't get in.

I have faith that, no matter who's elected, we'll eventually be OK.

But I think my vote is very important.  That's why I've used my # 2 pencil, put 65 cents worth of stamps on the envelope, and followed all the other instructions to the letter.

It's done!  So all of you candidates who keep calling me....you can stop...because it's done.


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"You Always Have to be Right About Everything"

Recently a professor at Harvard Divinity School identified a scrap of papyrus that (she's saying) said:  "Jesus said to them, 'My wife...'"

This "news" has stirred up a little controversy - but mostly jokes.  Mostly bad jokes.  I've been a little offended by some of them but, for the most part, they've been gently poking fun at Jesus - and at the professor with the scrap of papyrus.

And now in this week's New Yorker, Paul Rudnick writes a very funny (I think) "Shouts & Murmurs" column about Jesus and his wife, Melissa.

It's mostly about Melissa and her frustration with falling for a guy who doesn't have a job - but wants everybody to love and respect each other, share in the Lord's bounty and bring peace to the world.

Melissa is intrigued but her head keeps telling her "Don't lend him money."

When Jesus attracts hundreds of followers, Melissa worries about where they'll all sit and what if they run out of "dried figs and almonds?"

When Jesus and Melissa have a misunderstanding, Melissa says in frustration, "but I guess you always have to be right about everything."

And so on ...

I feel reasonably sure that Paul Rudnick isn't trying to teach us any lessons here but in reading this piece I could so easily identify with Melissa.

Like getting caught up in the ordinary when Jesus is dealing with the ultimate.  And the "...having to be right about everything" statement.  I'm comforted by that most of the time but  - sometimes - I just want to roll my eyes.



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Hannibal Square

Gentrification - changes that result when wealthier people acquire property in low income communities...This generally results in the displacement of the poorer residents, who are unable to pay increased rent or house prices and property taxes. On Friday David and I spent the afternoon at Hannibal Square, located in the heart of West Winter Park, a traditionally black community.  It was a moving experience for me. More than 125 years ago the black families who lived here provided a ready source of labor for building the exquisite city of Winter Park. West Winter Park, located on the other side of the railroad tracks, stayed deeply segregated into the 1960's. And the center of activity in West Winter Park was Hannibal Square.   From it beginnings, although poor compared to Winter Park, Hannibal Square was rooted in faith, family, and community.  The west side was characterized by high levels of education, business and home ownership.  On the Square, on any given day you could find a group of old black men sitting outside an open barbecue pit, philosophizing and playing checkers.   But, eventually, business folks in Winter Park began encroaching on West Winter Park.  Developers began buying up the small homes of folks who had financial troubles.  In the 1990s my husband Ken and I along with other folks from both sides of the tracks formed a group called "Bridge Builders" to try to help West Winter Park, especially Hannibal Square, retain it's identity. One of the goals was to have a history center where the stories of these folks would be preserved.   Eventually Ken became too ill to carry on.  I gave up the fight in order to care for him.  Many of my friends felt defeated.  Folks in my church worked hard on bridge building but, on the other hand, I heard a man in my own church say "that land is too valuable for those people to have."   It broke my heart.   Hannibal Square is now a happenin' place.  Following is quoted from it's website.  Visit Hannibal Square...Enjoy fine dining, designer fashions, stylish home furnishings, fine art and unique gifts.  While you're here pamper yourself at some of the top skin care spas and hair salons.  When I'm dining with friends in a fine restaurant at Hannibal Square, they usually just don't understand why I'm sad. But here's some good historical news.  There is now a Hannibal Square Heritage Center where those strong folks from years ago have provided a collection of photographs and oral history as told be the people who experienced it.   I hope, when you visit us here in central Florida, (as everybody does eventually) that you'll stop in at the Heritage Center at Hannibal Square - and then have dinner at one of the fine restaurants. ***

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