August 2008 Archives
"Why do you even get out of bed in the morning?"
This was the question asked of me by a man during a conversation about personal beliefs a number of years ago. The gentleman I was talking with at the time was a devout, fundamentalist Christian who was also an activist in the Republican Party. He also held dear to his heart the belief that "liberalism was a mental defect and those who perpetuated such a philosophy were sick." I am not making this up--I have met such a person!
During the course of our conversation this man realized that not only was I a confirmed liberal (and a proud one at that) but that I did not hold a belief in God like the Christians, Jews, Muslims or Buddhist. He seemed to be so shocked about my comfort level of disbelief in a supreme being that he raised his voice in an almost aggressive manner and said: "If I didn't believe in God there would be nothing to live for. I might as well go out and rob a liquor store and shoot the clerk just for the fun of it."
This statement speaks more about that individual's personal pathology than about living a good and honest life just for the sake of doing so. If I had to live the good life because some big guy with a big stick up in heaven told me to, that wouldn't be much of a life worth living. I would probably commit suicide if that were the case. I have always and will continue to live the good life because it is the moral and ethical thing to do, and the advancement of the positive aspects of world civilization depends upon it. This is what I would refer to as my higher calling.
Now back to the question of "Why do you even get out of bed in the morning?" There are many reasons extraordinary and mundane that keep me going day after day, even when it seems like the entire world is coming apart at the seams. The one extraordinary reason that gets me out of bed each and every morning is the hope of putting into practice during my day one of the higher humanist ethical principles like respecting others, doing no harm, self improvement, helping those in need, etc. It is the same way of looking at life as did the character played by Jimmy Stewart in the classic film "Its A Wonderful LIfe." Every word and action has som rippling effect on your personal world as well as the world at large for good or bad. So if you have a chance to make the world just a little better--why not?
There are many mundane reasons also that get me out of bed each morning; it's a new day--anything can happen--that's very exciting; discovery of a new book to be read; having a new culinary experience; walking through my neighborhood and discovering new things and meeting new people; sitting on the porch after a thunder shower and smelling the damp sweetness around me; watching how happy my dog Clifford gets while waiting for his breakfast; anticipating the stories my wife will bring home from her work that day; and the discovery of colorful birds, insects and butterflies in my garden that I haven't seen before.
These are the things that get me out of bed every morning and no matter how ugly, nasty or brutish the world becomes, these will always be important enough to me to keep on going, to live life to its fullest and maybe, along the way, discover an extraordinary moment in time.
The other day I was hanging out at my favorite coffee shop, the Alberta Street Coffee House on Northeast Alberta street in Portland, Oregon. This particular establishment has a heavy atmosphere of liberality and attracts a wide range of eclectic folks, from young computer geeks with their laptops, to artists and writers, to political activists, to the retired, and to the most common, ordinary person like myself. It is a very comfortable and small coffee shop with throw rugs, coffee tables, couches and easy chairs. The place is littered with books, magazines and local newspapers. Local art for sale usually adorns the walls. It is a homey place. A place where it is easy to strike up a conversation with a total stranger about anything.
A twenty-somthing man was sitting at the table next to me and reading a section of the Oregonian newspaper about the demise of Russian Nobel Laureate, Alexander Solzhenitsyn. I noticed after a few minutes he started shaking his head slightly and murmured, "Why haven't I ever heard of this guy?" Because I have read nearly everything written by Solzhenitsyn that has been translated into English, I struck up a conversation with the young man with the purpose of offering him a few anecdotes about the author.
I told this man that Solzhenitsyn was considered one of the great moral voices among writers of the twentieth century. And because of the state repression, torture and atrocities he experienced first hand it gave him a unique perspective on the world and the human condition. Thusly, his writings will no doubt become timeless. Solzhenitsyn was a giant of a man in many ways that not only survived but outlived the very state apparatus he fought against all of his life.
Since he seemed eager and a willing listener, I further told this young man in order to really understand and appreciate why Solzhenitsyn was so bigger than life, it would be beneficial for him to read the major works of Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky since Solzhenitsyn was heavily influenced by all three authors. This man had only heard of Shakespeare and Tolstoy but had never read a single word from them. His experience of these two authors was strictly from television specials. This startled me that he was completely unaware of Dostoevsky, and never had the opportunity to read a Shakespeare play or a story or novel by Tolstoy. I asked him how that could be.
The man admitted that during his high school years in Portland Public Schools he never read Shakespeare, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, nor was required to do so for graduation. He further admitted that he read as little as possible and only when he was forced to out of necessity. He offered another striking admission that while pursuing his Bachelor of Social Work degree at Portland State University he only read what was required in order to get his degree. He also said that as soon as he graduated last month he swore that he would never read another book again unless it was required by his job. My stomach did a flip-flop when I heard this man speak so passionately of his lack of desire to read books of any substance.
I told him that he seemed interested in the newspaper article so what held him back from tackling one of Solzhenitsyn's novels. The man told me rather bluntly that he found it easy to read twenty or thirty paragraphs in a newspaper, magazine or on the Internet, but anything longer was too time consuming and too much of a commitment. I shook my head that I understood but deep inside I was raging against this young man's unwillingness to taste the sweet wonders of a great work of literature, and view the world through the eyes of its author and possibly uncover a great truth in the process.
As the man finished reading the newspaper article I thought about how different I was at his age. I had been blessed with a home environment at an early age that fueled my passion for reading. The older I got the more interest I gained in books, especially really great books, really meaningful and significant books. During my twenties I couldn't seem to find enough time to read the long list of books I created for myself. This was by choice and no one forced me into this passionate past-time of reading. When money was low I deliberately missed a few meals just so I had the money to buy certain books. The reading material I was craving at the time couldn't be found at the public library.
The young man finally finished his drink and the newspaper article, got up and left. On the way out he thanked me for the conversation. I sat there for quite awhile feeling very sad for this young man; feeling sad for all the rich delights and wells of wisdom he will never know by being a non-reader. I'm not sure if the public school system failed him, or he just had a basic character flaw against reading in general. I would safely bet that he is the exception and not representational of his generation. It still makes me sad that anybody can go through life and not have a desire to read the great masterworks of world literature.
A teacher in the seventh grade who I greatly admired told our class one day: "Great readers make great writers, and great writers make great leaders." This just poured more fuel on the fire of my passion for reading. I will never forget that teacher or his statement of truth. I graduated from high school in the era when it was a requirement to read and have a passable understanding of Homer, Virgil, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Faulkner before one got a diploma. I found that two years after my graduation the state of California dropped that requirement as well as the study of a foreign language.
This young man is culturally and intellectually crippling himself to the point where he will be unable to focus his mind on sustained high level reading and critical thinking. The experience of attaining any meaningful and significant leadership role in his life may turn out to be an empty sham, causing himself and others around him distress and hurt. Unless he goes through a miraculous turnabout I tremble when thinking that one day this young man could attain a position of grave responsibility in our country.
