IT'S MINOR SURGERY WHEN IT'S SOMEONE ELSE'S . . .





. . . and it's only "lawsuit abuse" when you're not the one suing.

OF FAITH, PRACTICE AND LITMUS PAPER


“Comes a Time when your driftin,
Comes a time when you settle down
Comes a life, feelings liftin’
Lift that baby right up off the ground

O- ohh, this old world keeps spinnin round
It’s a wonder tall trees ain’t layin’ down
There comes a time.
Comes a time - Neil Young

"To everything (turn turn turn)
There is a a season (turn turn turn)
And a time for every purpose
Under heaven" – Pete Seeger

"And they’ll know we are Christians
By our love, by our love
Yes they’ll know we are Christians
By our love' – Peter Scholtes

LOST continues to slowly simmer over the devolution of the Catholic Church, and the coup attempt of its current leadership to highjack it from a simply articulated adherence to <“the two greatest commandments>, and turn it into a 5-question litmus test of belief, with one question – the “abortion” question – leading the pack.

Once again, at this morning’s liturgy, another droned delivery of the “impassioned plea” for the faithful to symbolically gesture to the hated (yes, the contempt for the current President is concealed, albeit barely) President Obama, by sending him empty Red envelopes – hopefully one for “each of the 58 million unborn children lost to abortion since the passage of Roe v. Wade.”

As if abortions never took place in pre-Roe v. Wade America;
As if our country did a masterful job of seeing to the basic needs of poor children, or the unwanted children;
As if (and this time the esteemed deacon even said as much – “more children are aborted each day in this country than troops killed in the whole Iraq war) governmental policies which promote or cause death in other contexts don’t matter or aren’t important issues of morality and faith.

Well, other policies promoting violence and death are important issues of morality and faith – or at least they should be. Clearly, the Catholic faithful have far important work to be done than fomenting unrest over the invitation of the President to speak at Notre Dame’s commencement ceremony>.

LOST longs for the return of Church leadership which emphasizes social justice over conformity, compassionate activism over control, and one which encourages and venerates the divine gift of thought over unquestioned adherence to newly articulated regulations and rules – as can be seen in the brick by brick dismantling of the outcome of the Second Vatican Council, by the current Pope and his ideological co-conspirators. To seek anything less is to stand by and watch helplessly as one-issue (or 5) zealotry rips the faithful apart, and in the process cheapens and denigrates the Faith.

PRIDE UNDAUNTED BY REJECTION

“you can’t always get what you want . . . but if you try sometimes . . . you might find . . . you get what you need”

Oh how LOST wishes that were true. The eldest LOST kid got some distasteful news this week. He was not accepted to the family U – as in UCLA. The kid knew in his great heart that his odds were long; not because of poor grades – his were 4.22 out of 5.00 – good enough for 17th in a class of over 500. Not because of a lack of outside activities – the kid was spread thinner than the butter on the bread at the Cratchit family Christmas table – doing all manner of school/sports/performing arts/charitable works activities. No, the kid’s long time dream has been in the performing arts arena. Since 5th grade and the first time on a stage he’s been enamored of performing, connecting through characters with his audiences. Singing, telling jokes, making people laugh. It was his little league, it was his creative outlet, and since high school he has only expanded it, becoming enthralled by graphic arts like those obtainable through PhotoShop (self taught after his mom took off the “training wheels”), or through video production. No, the eldest of the young LOST’s narrowed his chances by setting his sites higher – trying to become one of 60 entering students in the UCLA theater program.

LOST remembers being the first one to greet the lad when he existed his February audition at Academia's Magic Kingdom . He had an ear-to-ear grin that wouldn’t cease. He had no advanced knowledge of the outcome; no fix was in, nor had he experienced a Hurkos moment of future clarity. He simply felt the relief that comes with knowing that, when under pressure he put his best foot forward and delivered what he had to give. He was also very grounded – steadied by the information that he was among the 2,000 hopefuls looking for one of those 60 golden tickets, and rocked by the revelation that “not getting into the Theater program means you will not get into the school.” Both LOST and the kid were okay with that one. Despite the love for all things blue and gold – devolving as it did in part from a distaste for “Cardinal and Gold” (thanks Dad, thanks “Sandy”), despite the many trips to Pasadena and to Pauley, and the visits to the hallowed campus “home,” LOST has never overtly pressured or lobbied or instilled in the kids this requirement to enroll there. However, LOST was no less pleased that the oldest developed an interest, and an appreciation for the beauty and the bustle that is the campus, and that he ultimately decided to apply there.

And so it was that it was painful to experience the sting of foreseeable rejection; not because it was unexpected, or even based on “unfairness.” Who knew what degree or caliber the competition, as the auditions were all individualized and outside the presence of all? Who knew of what political/social pressures could be brought to bear? What role was played by those with access to greater coaching/mentoring resources, etc.? Being told “sorry, not enough” hurts, regardless. LOST felt this pain for the son. Knowing how hard the kid had worked – clearly much harder than LOST did to get into the same university 3 decades earlier. Late nights, multiple projects, commitments and involvements, still “no.”

LOST also knows the measure of the kid. This does not diminish him in any way. It changes not his character, it carves nothing from his integrity, and it charges nil against the breadth and depth of his wit. The kid that is still part of LOST is upset at the alma mater – for its failure to recognize the content of character that is readily visible through LOST’s biased but not jaundiced eyes.

Today, LOST wishes that his son had experienced the wit and wisdom of LOST’s senior year English Teacher, the humbly terrific Violet Klessig, who had the courage and insight to remind LOST in a “Senior” moment of despair that “Sometimes pain is the only thing that reminds us that we’re alive.” On its face, its not an inspiring message, but it’s a human one, a reminder that such events are occasional (“sometimes”), significant (“only thing”), yet strangely reassuring (“we’re alive.”).
Sonny boy, I give you the great wisdom of Ms. Klessig, and I wish you only the most infrequent visits from this irritating visitor named pain.

THE WAY IT USED TO SHOULD BE

Time it was that the swindlers, snake oil salesmen and the fraudsters feared the cleansing light of publicity, and waited for the comfort of darkness and obscurity to hide their greedy, wicked ways. If you're no younger than LOST you remember watching snippets of 60 Minutes when people ran away from Mike Wallace and Morley Safer, desperate to get a door or a large security guard between them and the probing Teevee muckraker. Sometime around the time that Al Cowlings leisurely drove his White Ford Bronco down I-405 South in SoCal 15 years ago, that kind of journalistic digging went on life support, and in the circus that followed it flat-lined, someone having anonymously signed its DNR paperwork. Since then, we get Matt Lauer badgering people about pot photos, or the latest titillating story of the camera-hungry creeper cop whose first 3 wives all disappeared, and now number 4 is gone and he's crying croc(k) tears again, but no one, and LOST means nobody on network TV asks tough probing questions while demanding real, responsive answers. Sheeyit, even The Governor in Waiting - Moonbeam 2.0 is now into the act, going live talking about Anna Nicole's enablers. Yo, Jerry, LOST thought about voting for ya in 2010, but not anymore! Even you got into this inane act?

Which brings up Jon Stewart's beatdown of Jim Cramer - the latter's servile, groveling and slouched persona whimpering "please don't hurt me, I'm hurting too" - earlier this week. Jon Stewart is a comedian. He's supposed to make people laugh, but he's always done it by poking fun at the real world and the supposedly serious things in the world. His interview with Cramer wasn't funny. He asked the huckster, whose network had touted as the one we could "Trust" on investments, the kinds of questions that the DOJ, members of Congress, the President, and Treasury Department should be asking all of the so-called captains of industry, and Cramer caved, and twisted and dissembled and fell on himself in televised contrition. These people destroyed the notion of retirement for the multitudes, and damaged the ability of countless others to contribute to their children's college educations. However, all of the networks give 'em a pass, all but Stewart. Sure, and the humor works - it is strategically disarming ("what a strange world, here we're watching Jim Cramer on Martha Stewart's show. Martha Stewart is the one who did time for securities fraud).

Stewart's interview, available here in full (flash player required) usage of scathingly incriminating videotape of a very non-contrite, cockure Cramer was of a type that another, now deceased scion of the NBC family was lauded for - yet Saint Timmeh Russert never did it anywhere proximate to the sharpness and brilliance of Stewart's use in skewering this frontman for a snakeoil teevee channel. In a more perfect world, in a more honest world, in a world where keeping regular people informed of the important things that are really going on around us, Jon Stewart would be doing someone's anchorjob at a major news desk. All of us need to question why he isn't and how we get the networks to stop feeding us digital pablum and fluff, and go back to handing over the real, unvarnished fact.