Politics Matter, But...

As the latest political scandals are being discussed, people who know me might be surprised to find out how little I actually know about them. In fact, I've followed politics less in the last year than at any time during the last fifteen years of my life.

Politics matter. Politicians make law, develop foreign policy, declare war, and set tax rates. And they represent us—both here and abroad. So, for all of these reasons, and more, all of us have a vested interest in what our leaders do.

So, why do I am showing less of an interest now? Part of the reason has to do with my political persuasion. I'm galaxies away from the Democratic Party and I'm planets away from the Republican Party, so I don't have a political home. Another reason is the rise of neoconservatism, which I despise. And my work is keeping me busier than ever. Factor in all of these things, plus a need for downtime and a need for a social life, and you have a person who is becoming less informed by the day.

That doesn't thrill me because I think an informed citizenry is a must to keep any government accountable and because I believe being informed is a God-ordained responsibility. But with governing bodies being in session for a large portion of each year, rather than occasionally gathering like they should, a person almost has to consider it a part time job just to keep up with it all.

A couple of years ago, during my political blogging days, I ran across a blog that I really enjoyed called The Boileryard. It's anchored by a guy who takes on the persona of a dead-ball era baseball player named Boileryard Clarke. We've traded e-mails over the past couple of years and while we come at politics from different angles, we hold many of the same views and I've come to highly respect his ability to articulate his positions.

The Boileryard is still up and running. In fact, Clarke has a whole team of people who write from different political points of view. But he wrote a post this past December that nailed the way I was feeling about politics at the time. Here's part of what he said: "I think my political viewpoint, characterized largely by a bothersome echo from the pre-WWII days of the America First Committee, a complete mistrust of even a whisper of a hint of marginal socialism, and a total revulsion of what the New Left has done to make Classical Liberalism into Ultimate Statism, is sufficiently obscure to warrant an endless rehashing of the points of contention to every new face I meet."

Eventually, that led him to ask this: "And so what is important to a person?"

Here's his conclusion: "In the last two years netpilot [another writer on the site] and I have found what is important, really. The faces of our grandchildren are important. Their hugs are important. Friends are important. Our wives. Our own children. Music in the morning. Making other people smile is important. Life, minus the fist-shaking and anger and suspicion of others we don't understand, is important."

I doubt if Boileryard Clarke will ever really stop following politics or engaging in friendly political debate, but I think he's on to something regarding the importance of children, spouses, friends, music, and smiles. I started Little Nuances for all of the same reasons. Neither of us knew what the other person was thinking when we both started new blogs (his latest endeavor is called Chasing Vincenzo), but we are both paying a little more attention to other important things, besides politics, and I'm guessing that he is just as happy as I am with the decision.

Jason McElwain

I wrote a book for Barbour Publishing last summer called A Big Book of Sports Inspiration that hasn't been released yet. In the book, I chronicled dozens of inspirational sports stories. The recent events at Greece Athena High School in Rochester , N.Y. would have fit nicely in the book.

Jason McElwain, a 17 year-old, 5-foot-6 autistic senior, never had a chance to play basketball for Greece Athena. So, he became the team manager so he could be around the game he loves. He handed out water, wrote down stats, and became the team's biggest cheerleader.

As their final game approached, Coach Jim Johnson decided to let McElwain suit up but he didn't have any intensions of putting McElwain in the game. But with Greece Athena up big with four minutes to go, Coach Johnson decided to put McElwain in and the crowd went nuts. He missed his first two shots, and then he hit a three pointer. I don't know which is more moving, seeing him make the basket or the reaction of the crowd. They went ballistic.

Then McElwain hit another three pointer. After that, he couldn't be stopped. He scored 20 points in the final four minutes of the game and the crowd carried him off the court on their shoulders. I've seen the video several times and I get tears in my eyes every time. Watch it if you get a chance, but make sure you've got the sound turned up on your computer so you can hear the crowd's reaction.

[Hat tip to Sheila at The Sheila Variations for the video link]

Running on Empty

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about the wonderful experience of silence among two people who don't necessarily feel the need to say a word in each other's presence. Now I want to talk about the opposite side of the equation—when it's appropriate, or necessary, to speak, but you don't have any words. Ever been there? I sure have.

Sometimes it's because I'm tired. Sometimes it's because I'm thinking. Sometimes it's because I'm afraid to say what needs to be said. And sometimes, I just feel empty. Like I've given all I have to give to my work, or family, or friends, and I just have nothing left.

A couple of months ago, I read a book about writing called bird by bird by Anne Lamott. I've never really experienced major writer's block before, but I learned something about myself when I read her chapter about the subject. This one sentence she wrote has been running through my head ever since I read it: "The word block suggests that you are constipated or stuck, when the truth is that you're empty."

I don't think I've ever connected the dots between input and output when I've run out of things to say during conversations. I think I've always just assumed that if I were empty during a conversation that I could just tap into the reserves of information I've stored up over the years and everything would be just fine. But, that hasn't always been the case.

If Lamott's principle of emptiness applies to conversations as well as writing, and after thinking about it for a while, I think it does—then it's okay to be empty sometimes. It's just an indication that I need to get involved in experiences that spark the creative flow. And knowing this somehow gives me permission to do so.

Journey 2001

A few nights before my computer crashed last week (if I owe you an e-mail and you haven't heard from me, that's why), and a couple of nights before I blew an engine on my car, I needed a little down time, but I didn't want to be up too late, so I popped the Journey 2001 DVD into my computer to watch a live performance of a few of my favorite Journey songs.  

I've seen the DVD several times, and each time I've amazed at how good the band still sounds with new singer Steve Augeri—maybe even because of Steve Augeri. His voice is so similar to former lead singer Steve Perry's voice that it's hard to tell them apart, but it seems like Augeri felt like he had something to prove on the particular evening when this DVD was shot. He nailed the old crowd favorites, while at the same time adding a touch of himself to each song.

Music is powerful. It can stir up old emotions and transport a person back in time. That's what happened when I watched this particular DVD. I went to see Journey in concert in the late 1980's with the woman I was just beginning to date and another couple. I was more interested in the woman than she was in me, but we were extremely close friends, and we were both interested in seeing if something could develop beyond friendship. I can't remember for sure, but I think this might have been our first official attempt at a date.

Journey played one hit after another: Who's Crying Now?, Don't Stop Believin', Separate Ways, Wheel in the Sky, and many others. As the concert neared the end, I heard the familiar opening notes of Open Arms. I love that song, but I was a little distracted by the age-old question that every guy who's ever been in my situation has faced—do I take a chance and put my arm around the girl I'm with or not? I took the chance. Right in the middle of Open Arms, my right arm found it's way around her back and it stayed there for the rest of the concert—which wasn't long.

For the encore, Journey played Faithfully. It's one of my all-time favorite songs. At the time, the band was rumored to be breaking up, and before they began the song, Steve Perry went backstage, donned a Husker uniform, and when he came back onstage he dedicated Faithfully to the fans who had stuck with the band for so many years. The reality of the band possibly splitting resonated throughout the auditorium when he said those words and it was hard not to get caught up in the moment.

But as much as I was into it, I was still a little distracted by the arm-thing. She hadn't brushed me away, or voiced her displeasure, but she also didn't seem to be responding as well as I'd hoped. A simple lean-in would have sufficed, but after working up enough courage to put my arm around her, I certainly wasn't going to retreat without a reason.

A few dates later, she told me that she just wasn't comfortable with us going beyond the friendship level. I wasn't surprised, but hey, I'll always have Journey, and I'll always have the memories.

Small Town Life

I finally made it home—minus my beloved Dodge Neon, plus a Saturn SL. As you might imagine, my little excursion can and will be used as blog fodder.

A couple of days ago, while staying with a good friend and his wife who live close to the city in which my car broke down in, my friend's wife let me borrow her car so I could go retrieve all of my personal belongings out of my Neon before it was carted away. My friend and his wife live in a town of about 300 people in central Nebraska. As I headed out of it, I ended up having to wait quite a while for a train. The train couldn't have been going faster than 5 or 10 mph, and it seemed like the longest train in history.

As I waited, and continued to glance down at my watch, a man in a truck pulled up behind me. Then another man in a truck pulled up behind him. Before long, the one in back pulled up along side the other man. They rolled down their windows and began to converse. Then they began to throw their heads back in laughter. I don't even think they looked up to see if the train was ever going to come to an end. They were completely content in the moment (or block of many moments). I thought that was so cool.

As a single guy, I think I'd go crazy in a small town since I'm so used to going out on the weekends, but small town life definitely appeals to me. I like the way everybody waves at each other, how everybody looks out for each other, and the slower pace. And I really like the way everybody knows everybody—in a way, it validates each individual rather than everybody just blending into a mass of humanity.

I'm sure small town life has its draw backs (gossip and nosiness being near the top), but I didn't see many the past few days.

Out of Commission

My access to the internet may be limited over the next couple of days. I blew an engine in my car on the way to a bowling tournament on Saturday morning. So, I'm staying with a friend right now who lives close to the bowling center. Once I find a new car, I'll head home and resume regular posting. I'm thinking it may be Wednesday before that happens.