Real Men of Genius is my favorite commercial. Great ad writing in a sixty second format is a talent. When the result is something to make me laugh at simplicity, the work is pure art. I prefer this commercial campaign on radio to any Super Bowl ad ever run. When I was buying beer, none of the ads ever caused me to buy a Bud, but they do make me laugh. The Coors Light "...And twins" compelled me to buy Coors Light. I'm a visual guy.
Yesterday I heard a radio ad by Annheuser Busch that left me annoyed. Apparently some smart executives decided to use the AB mega billions to redirect the attention of teen alcohol abuse from the producer to the parents. I don't remember the exact words, but the message included a blatant statement that children who have parents who stay involved in the child's life are less likely to partake in illegal and dangerous activities. Well, that's just brilliant. Now I know what I did wrong.
I should have been more involved. Let see, I took my young sons to Milwaukee and stayed in a tall hotel downtown. On top of a taller building, viewable from our location and points beyond-- a Budweiser Sign. We saw baseball games at Miller Park. The home team is the Brewers. For a homerun, the team mascot, Bernie Brewer, slides into a giant beer stein. When we went to Packer Games, we entered the stadium at The Miller Gate. Every sporting event we watched on TV was sponsored by beer companies. A three hour presentation of football includes nearly two hours of commercials--most selling a life of fun and frolic as a by-product of beer consumption. In Florida we could visit Busch Gardens. Aaron and I went to a movie in Bend, OR when he was at boarding school. Prior to the previews we watched a beer commercial. I remember the moment because I knew I wanted a cold beer and suspected Aaron was being tempted by the message. Every grocery store and convenience store has bread, butter, milk, beer, wine, and hard liquor. More stores sell beer than books in our town. Devils Lake is a pristine lake and park, except for the trash bins overflowing with empty beer carcassas on a Sunday afternoon.
Now I wasn't a perfect parent. I abused alcohol in front of my children and that was wrong; I knew it was wrong then but I downplayed the risk. My boat was sometimes a giant, floating cooler. I can accept responsibility for my mistakes-- and there were many. There will be more. Help from the liquor industry to raise attention to my flaws is not necessary. They could spend some effort in self evaluation too.
Today I pay attention to beer commercials and liquor ads. In the ads we get the girl, the girl gets the guy, our team wins; everyone gets the car, the fun, the friends, the high life. I know people who have lost body, mind, and soul from alcohol abuse. I know people who have lost family members from alcohol abuse. Friends have died. Their parents were involved from beginning to dire end. Parents and their children do amazing work changing themselves. They can't fix the past. They focus on the present. They focus on self. AB could do the same. Responsibility. Humility. Honesty. I'd like to see Annheuser Busch and Miller compete to make the most honest beer commercial.
For myself, yes, I should have been more involved with my sons...A mega-million dollar ad budget of my own, and a shield from every temptation would have been helpful too.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Contemplation
Writing helps to organize what I think I'm learning. The books by Thomas Merton have clarified what I didn't grasp from Catholic grade school and Sunday sermons. Merton died in 1968 at the height of interest in his thoughts. Not all of the interest was supportive. Merton's message resonated with the anti-establishment crowd questioning America's righteous trampling on lives around the globe. The renewed interest in Merton is easily understood in light of history repeating itself.
The Merton Institute for Contemplative Living is a useful resource for insight into Merton's writing. www.Mertoninstitute.org A letter arrived this week with a simple outline of what it means to live contemplatively. In a survey of interested persons, the Institute concluded that most people defined contemplative living as leading a less complicated, less busy, more quiet life, or engaging in prayer, meditation, or yoga. On a lineal plane, contemplative life was achieved by living more like a monk or nun and less like a person outside of religious orders.
Merton explains contemplative living as living in true relationships with oneself, God, others, and nature. That made perfect sense to me. The more effort I've made to be open to other spiritual practices, the more I've seen similarities in core values. Honoring self, God, others, and nature is clear in native American beliefs, Buddhism, and Christianity--three belief systems where I've barely scratched the surface. All agree that we become true when we free ourselves of illusions of being independent of our true self, God, others, and nature.
The challenge of being my true self and knowing that it is enough to be me as I am is the first truth to accomplish. When I focus on being my true self I am open to my responsibilities to the relationships I have with God, others, and nature. By being comfortable with me as God made me enables me to accept that my everyday life, my active life in career, home, and in charity is my spiritual life. Isolating from everyday life is not a way to increase my spiritual being. Being aware of my place in the world and my responsibility, and the affect of my actions is the work of my contemplative life.
To affect change in the world, change myself.
The Merton Institute for Contemplative Living is a useful resource for insight into Merton's writing. www.Mertoninstitute.org A letter arrived this week with a simple outline of what it means to live contemplatively. In a survey of interested persons, the Institute concluded that most people defined contemplative living as leading a less complicated, less busy, more quiet life, or engaging in prayer, meditation, or yoga. On a lineal plane, contemplative life was achieved by living more like a monk or nun and less like a person outside of religious orders.
Merton explains contemplative living as living in true relationships with oneself, God, others, and nature. That made perfect sense to me. The more effort I've made to be open to other spiritual practices, the more I've seen similarities in core values. Honoring self, God, others, and nature is clear in native American beliefs, Buddhism, and Christianity--three belief systems where I've barely scratched the surface. All agree that we become true when we free ourselves of illusions of being independent of our true self, God, others, and nature.
The challenge of being my true self and knowing that it is enough to be me as I am is the first truth to accomplish. When I focus on being my true self I am open to my responsibilities to the relationships I have with God, others, and nature. By being comfortable with me as God made me enables me to accept that my everyday life, my active life in career, home, and in charity is my spiritual life. Isolating from everyday life is not a way to increase my spiritual being. Being aware of my place in the world and my responsibility, and the affect of my actions is the work of my contemplative life.
To affect change in the world, change myself.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Judgements Are Flying. Judgements Are Flying.
A man rode a bike up to Aaron's House last Saturday and asked to talk to someone in charge. Cathy decided that person would be me. I sat down on the front steps when the fellow asked if he could help us. "I'm a skilled carpenter. Do you have anything I could do for you?"
Aaron did his emotional growing at Mount Bachelor Academy. Woven into the fabric of the work at MBA, the young men and women were exposed to a basic and healthy ism ---non-judgementalism. I didn't teach that theory in our home. Aaron would often tell me as a young teenager "You're too judgemental, Dad." I answered with "You need to be more judgemental. It's OK to not be friends with everyone. Some of these friends of your's are bad news." The conversation would typically end with Aaron pulling his hair and giving his final response, "Ahhhh. I don't want to ever be like you!"
Today Patrick calls me on my judgemental ways. Fortunately the incidents are less common but the character trait is not eliminated. "We have some carpentry work to do but all of the labor is donated. This is a volunteer project." I told the man on the bike. He informed me that he was working with a labor service and his skills were being put to work on some condo projects around Dane County. With more fact than humility in my voice I said,"There are a few things that I could use help on, but again this is a volunteer project. We don't have money to pay anyone." With persaverence and compassion, the man on the bike told me, "I understand the word. If you have some carpentry work. I can help. I'd like to help you. I'm not looking to be paid." I accepted his offer and we agreed to meet at the house at 9AM on Sunday.
Aaron told us how MBA worked acceptance and understanding into the program. Students were challenged to express themselves, and share their emotions. What they stood for mattered, what they believed was their beliefs, and feelings were to be felt, styles not criticized. Peers were not to be judged. All of the students had their humanity in common. They also were all raised in the same world. How do you not judge another human being when it seems to judge is to be human? Aaron told us how the guys at MBA would react when the tension in a room was elevating over an uncomfortable situation. To make light, the kids would say to eachother--"Judgements are flying. Judgements are flying."
No more had the man left on his bike and I judged him undependable based on how he looked and what he was wearing. Within seconds I concluded that was the last I would see of the man , with the torn jeans, dirty shirt, and a bike with a flat tire. Sunday morning came and Cathy told me that I had better get going to meet the man at the house to do the carpentry work. "He's not going to show up. And I'm not running down there for nothing," was my response. Cathy left for church. I made a phone call and plopped on the couch.
It was 9:20 when the phone rang. "This is Randy. I'm at the house. You were going to meet me at 9:00." Me, "OK. I'm running late (lie). I'll be there in 20 minutes." I scrambled off forgetting the tools I promised to bring. Five hours later, the house had a new back porch railing, some rain barrel stands and a a commitment to rebuild the front porch stairs this Saturday. All from the tattered clothes wearing man on the bike. Randy is the man's name. Randy lives in a homeless shelter.
Judgements are flying. I continue to learn what matters and my teachers are everywhere.
Aaron did his emotional growing at Mount Bachelor Academy. Woven into the fabric of the work at MBA, the young men and women were exposed to a basic and healthy ism ---non-judgementalism. I didn't teach that theory in our home. Aaron would often tell me as a young teenager "You're too judgemental, Dad." I answered with "You need to be more judgemental. It's OK to not be friends with everyone. Some of these friends of your's are bad news." The conversation would typically end with Aaron pulling his hair and giving his final response, "Ahhhh. I don't want to ever be like you!"
Today Patrick calls me on my judgemental ways. Fortunately the incidents are less common but the character trait is not eliminated. "We have some carpentry work to do but all of the labor is donated. This is a volunteer project." I told the man on the bike. He informed me that he was working with a labor service and his skills were being put to work on some condo projects around Dane County. With more fact than humility in my voice I said,"There are a few things that I could use help on, but again this is a volunteer project. We don't have money to pay anyone." With persaverence and compassion, the man on the bike told me, "I understand the word. If you have some carpentry work. I can help. I'd like to help you. I'm not looking to be paid." I accepted his offer and we agreed to meet at the house at 9AM on Sunday.
Aaron told us how MBA worked acceptance and understanding into the program. Students were challenged to express themselves, and share their emotions. What they stood for mattered, what they believed was their beliefs, and feelings were to be felt, styles not criticized. Peers were not to be judged. All of the students had their humanity in common. They also were all raised in the same world. How do you not judge another human being when it seems to judge is to be human? Aaron told us how the guys at MBA would react when the tension in a room was elevating over an uncomfortable situation. To make light, the kids would say to eachother--"Judgements are flying. Judgements are flying."
No more had the man left on his bike and I judged him undependable based on how he looked and what he was wearing. Within seconds I concluded that was the last I would see of the man , with the torn jeans, dirty shirt, and a bike with a flat tire. Sunday morning came and Cathy told me that I had better get going to meet the man at the house to do the carpentry work. "He's not going to show up. And I'm not running down there for nothing," was my response. Cathy left for church. I made a phone call and plopped on the couch.
It was 9:20 when the phone rang. "This is Randy. I'm at the house. You were going to meet me at 9:00." Me, "OK. I'm running late (lie). I'll be there in 20 minutes." I scrambled off forgetting the tools I promised to bring. Five hours later, the house had a new back porch railing, some rain barrel stands and a a commitment to rebuild the front porch stairs this Saturday. All from the tattered clothes wearing man on the bike. Randy is the man's name. Randy lives in a homeless shelter.
Judgements are flying. I continue to learn what matters and my teachers are everywhere.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
No Promises
The family that plays together stays together. The family that eats together stays together.
The family that prays together stays together. The family that reads together stays together. If these are promises, somebody owes an apology to alot of families.
Cathy and I were typical, traditional parents whatever that means. Cathy's career was at home with the boys, I had the career outside of the house. We went to church on Sundays. Ate dinner as a family. Prayed as a family. Played as a family. All are incidents of happy, sad, surprising times. We all laughed in church. We all cried in church. Same with the dinner table.
There is a prayer we Catholics say at meal time and it goes like this:
Bless us O Lord for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.
After chanting and mumbling that sentence 1095 times a year for 30 plus years it occured to me that I had no clue what it meant. A change in the prayer ritualwas in order.
Cathy sat to my left, Patrick to my right with his back to the window, and Aaron was directly across from me. With a sleeve in the table, Aaron had a place at the opposite head of the table typically reserved for one of the parents. We kept the table small and round. Our new prayer ritual, starting in '98, was to make the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, Amen" (we didn't say Holy Ghost. That was to scary for the boys) and then proceed with a simple thank you for whatever we were grateful for. Patrick and I would typically have some depth to our gratitude--Patrick, "For the sunny day so I could play with my friends". Me, "For the people who care for the children who have no parents." Aaron and Cathy would try to be the first to say "For this food". They were the traditionalists and praying from the heart was not going to come easy for the Catholic school girl and the alter boy.
Family dinners are rare as are prayers at the dinner table. I know we all have gratitude but the empty chair is sad enough without the silence it emits in turn.
Only this past Saturday did Cathy announce that she feels a desire to return to church. The Mom who rallied the boys--all three of us boys, on Saturday nights or Sunday mornings to get to church against our wills. The Mom who set the table, made the dinners, led the prayers. The Mom who played the games, organized the family outings, read the stories until the covers fell off. That Mom attended church last Sunday for the third time since Aaron's funeral. Cathy cried.
She put it all on the line for her boys. Moms do that. They give themselves to their children and trust in the religion of their youth. Only Mothers know a Mother's sorrow. God didn't kill Cathy's son. God didn't fail Aaron. There is no purpose in Aaron's death. There is solitude in the sorrow and in solitude is God. Cathy is nearest to God and this is not the God of our youth. This God has patience and mercy.
So, what about "The family that _______ together, stays together."? That's not a promise. That's a bumper sticker from the religious politics of the feel good church of any denomination.
The family that prays together stays together. The family that reads together stays together. If these are promises, somebody owes an apology to alot of families.
Cathy and I were typical, traditional parents whatever that means. Cathy's career was at home with the boys, I had the career outside of the house. We went to church on Sundays. Ate dinner as a family. Prayed as a family. Played as a family. All are incidents of happy, sad, surprising times. We all laughed in church. We all cried in church. Same with the dinner table.
There is a prayer we Catholics say at meal time and it goes like this:
Bless us O Lord for these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen.
After chanting and mumbling that sentence 1095 times a year for 30 plus years it occured to me that I had no clue what it meant. A change in the prayer ritualwas in order.
Cathy sat to my left, Patrick to my right with his back to the window, and Aaron was directly across from me. With a sleeve in the table, Aaron had a place at the opposite head of the table typically reserved for one of the parents. We kept the table small and round. Our new prayer ritual, starting in '98, was to make the sign of the cross, "In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, Amen" (we didn't say Holy Ghost. That was to scary for the boys) and then proceed with a simple thank you for whatever we were grateful for. Patrick and I would typically have some depth to our gratitude--Patrick, "For the sunny day so I could play with my friends". Me, "For the people who care for the children who have no parents." Aaron and Cathy would try to be the first to say "For this food". They were the traditionalists and praying from the heart was not going to come easy for the Catholic school girl and the alter boy.
Family dinners are rare as are prayers at the dinner table. I know we all have gratitude but the empty chair is sad enough without the silence it emits in turn.
Only this past Saturday did Cathy announce that she feels a desire to return to church. The Mom who rallied the boys--all three of us boys, on Saturday nights or Sunday mornings to get to church against our wills. The Mom who set the table, made the dinners, led the prayers. The Mom who played the games, organized the family outings, read the stories until the covers fell off. That Mom attended church last Sunday for the third time since Aaron's funeral. Cathy cried.
She put it all on the line for her boys. Moms do that. They give themselves to their children and trust in the religion of their youth. Only Mothers know a Mother's sorrow. God didn't kill Cathy's son. God didn't fail Aaron. There is no purpose in Aaron's death. There is solitude in the sorrow and in solitude is God. Cathy is nearest to God and this is not the God of our youth. This God has patience and mercy.
So, what about "The family that _______ together, stays together."? That's not a promise. That's a bumper sticker from the religious politics of the feel good church of any denomination.
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