Respect is Key to American Greatness

 With this being my last chance to persuade you to vote one way or another in next Tuesday’s presidential election, you might assume that I would take this opportunity to do just that. Well, dear reader, in this case, you would be wrong to make such an assumption.

Making assumptions about people is a generally bad idea. Assumptions are often based on stereotypes whose close cousins include bigotry, racism, misogyny, religious intolerance, and homophobia. These, in turn, can lead to even worse ends. Indeed, it is a mistake to make assumptions about others, especially about people you don’t know.

All too often, people assume the worst about others without ever taking the time to get to know them. Some of my more liberal friends think that all of my Trump-supporting friends must be racists, while I have been accused by some of my conservative acquaintances of being a socialist who wants to take away everyone’s guns and start a race war. These assumptions are both incorrect and ignorant, and they only serve to divide us further.

To quote President Trump, there are “very fine people on both sides.” (Of course, I mean that in reference to Democrats and Republicans, not neo-Nazis and counter-protesters.) My point is this: no matter the outcome of the election, we must treat each other with civility, kindness, and grace in order to move forward together as Americans.

In short, the only way we can begin to heal as a nation is to treat each other with respect—no matter who is in the White House.

 

While scrolling through Facebook marketplace the other day, I came across an advertisement for a t-shirt with the following phrase emblazoned upon it: “All Lives Splatter—Who cares about your stupid protest?” An image accompanying the quote depicted a car plowing through a crowd of protestors, sending some flying into the air. Making a joke of out the murder of 32-year-old Heather Heyer who, along with 19 others, was deliberately mowed down by a car driven by a white supremacist at the protests in Charlottesville, Virginia, or celebrating peaceful Black Lives Matter protestors being maliciously struck by vehicles is nearly as sick and depraved as the acts themselves.

In this country, we recognize that all of us—Republicans and Democrats, Capitalists and Socialists, Blacks and Whites, Muslims and Christians, Women and Men—are created equal and born with certain inalienable rights including Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. All of us have these rights, not just the people we agree with. To mock, maim, or murder those who believe differently than us is decidedly un-American, and it must stop in order for us to truly Make America Great Again.

On November 4th, about half of the people you meet will be upset about the outcome of the election. It is perfectly fine to be happy if your candidate wins, but it is not okay to make those who supported the losing cause feel even worse. Please show those folks some grace. Be respectful with your comments. Be empathetic to their pain. Treat them with loving kindness.

 

It is perfectly American to disagree with one another, but American Greatness demands that even when we disagree, we must still respect one another.

The Great Unifier

Is America really more divided than ever? I could cite a few examples, right off the top of my head, that would cast doubts upon that oft-repeated (as of late) claim. During the American Revolution, there was a sharp divide between those who fought for independence from the king and those who remained loyal to the crown. The Civil War, of course, saw a nation so at odds with itself that it split in two over the cause of slavery. More recently, the turbulent 1960s, with the Civil Rights movement and the Vietnam War, featured nationwide protests, hate crimes, and large riots. No, I don’t think America is more divided than ever. Not even close.

I do, nevertheless, have a plan to bring the people of our great nation closer together. The beauty of my plan lies in its simplicity. It requires very little effort. In fact, the success of my plan hinges only upon a single action. For the next week, instead of dwelling on politics and the upcoming election, focus all of your attention on the World Series.

I’m dead serious.

 

Since the 1860s, baseball has been considered “the national pastime.” It was the national pastime throughout the Civil War and throughout segregation when white players and players of color were barred from competing against one another. It was the national pastime when Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier and when Hank Aaron broke Babe Ruth’s home run record—despite the countless death threats both men received from white bigots. Baseball was the national pastime when 18-year-old ball players were sent to kill and be killed in Vietnam while other 18-year-olds burned their draft cards and were beaten and killed by police and National Guardsmen in the streets of America.

Throughout the second half of our imperfect union’s history, Baseball, the national pastime, has been the one thing that could bring us together: Baseball is The Great Unifier.

Your political affiliation has no bearing on the game of baseball. Your hatred of college-educated “Liberal Elites” or of “Billionaire Celebrity” Donald Trump does not prevent you from enjoying the national pastime. Baseball is for everyone. Although we all have our favorite teams to root for, and perhaps your favorite team’s season has already ended, surely we can set aside our differences for one week and enjoy watching Major League Baseball’s World Series—together.

Living in mid-Missouri, you are most likely a fan of either the St. Louis Cardinals or the Kansas City Royals. With neither Missouri team in this year’s Fall Classic, you may feel disinclined to watch two teams (the Tampa Bay Rays and the Los Angeles Dodgers) that you aren’t particularly interested in. If that is the case, then please allow me to make a suggestion of who you should pull for over the next four to seven games: The Tampa Bay Rays.

When Bethany and I traveled to China, almost exactly twelve years ago, to adopt our son Truman, we met several other American couples who were there adopting children at the same time. One of those couples was Jane and Shane Fairbanks. The Fairbankses, hailing from Webster Groves, was one of a handful of Missouri couples in our travel group. Bethany and I found Jane and Shane easy to talk to and fun to be around. We quickly discovered that we had a few things in common. For starters, all four of us were Mizzou graduates, and both couples had a biological son in addition to our newly adopted children. Shane and I also shared a love of baseball. He even played professionally for a time.

Last week, the Tampa Bay Rays beat the Houston Astros to win the American League Championship Series. In the decisive seventh game, the pitcher who recorded the final four outs for the Rays was a former Mizzou standout from Webster Groves named Peter Fairbanks. The son of Jane and Shane Fairbanks, Lia’s big brother, punched his team’s ticket to the World Series.

Do yourself a favor for the next week or so and take a break from following politics. Watch the World Series and cheer for Peter and his teammates instead. Baseball is a great excuse to set aside our differences and enjoy something together.

 

Maybe after the World Series is over, we will remember that we have more in common than we realize. The key to resolving any conflict is finding things upon which both sides can agree. I think we can all agree that watching Pete Fairbanks hurl a 100 MPH fastball is way more enjoyable than watching a politician hurl an insult.

Go get ‘em, Pete!

Baseball Legends Will Not Soon Be Forgotten

 

Within the last few weeks, Hall of Fame pitchers Tom Seaver, Bob Gibson, and Whitey Ford were each called home by the baseball gods, as was Gibson’s Hall of Fame Cardinal teammate Lou Brock. For baseball fans in St. Louis and New York, the loss of these legends is particularly painful.

Tom Seaver won more games in a New York Mets uniform than any other pitcher in franchise history. “Tom Terrific” won the National League Rookie of the Year Award, three Cy Young Awards as the league’s best pitcher, and a World Series championship as a member of the 1969 “Miracle Mets”. Seaver is one of only two players to have tallied 300 wins, 3000 strikeouts, and an earned run average under 3.00. His 16 Opening Day starts are a Major League record, and he is the only pitcher in MLB history to strike out 10 consecutive batters. 

Bob Gibson is the winningest pitcher in St. Louis Cardinals history and the winningest National League pitcher in World Series history. Gibson won the National League Cy Young Award twice, the World Series Most Valuable Player Award twice, and the National League MVP Award in 1968. That year he posted an astonishing 1.12 ERA, 28 complete games, 13 shutouts, 22 wins, and a record-setting 17 strikeout game in the World Series. During one stretch that season, Gibson threw 11 straight complete games—winning all of them—while only allowing three runs. The following season, Major League Baseball lowered the pitching mound six inches and shrank the strike zone.

Whitey Ford is the winningest pitcher in the history of baseball’s winningest franchise, the New York Yankees. He won the Cy Young Award in the American League and the World Series MVP Award in 1961. His 10 wins in World Series games are the most by any pitcher and helped his team win six World Series Championships. “The Chairman of the Board” broke Babe Ruth’s record for most consecutive scoreless innings pitched in World Series games by hurling 33 straight innings without allowing a run. He died while watching the Yankees playing in Game 4 of the American League Division Series on television, surrounded by his family.

Lou Brock led the National League in stolen bases eight times in his career. He won two World Series championships as a member of the St. Louis Cardinals in 1964 and 1967. On September 10, 1974, Brock broke Maury Wills’ single season stolen base record of 104 when he swiped his second base of the night in the seventh inning. (My father was at that ball game and it remains one of the most treasured moments of his baseball-loving life.) Brock went on to break Ty Cobb’s career stolen base record in 1977 and recorded his 3,000th career hit in 1979.He still holds the record for stolen bases in World Series history with 14 and is tied for the most hits in a single World Series with 13. His .391 batting average in World Series games is the highest for anyone who has appeared in 20 or more World Series games.

These eye-popping statistics only tell part of the story. To earnthe title of “Legend”, as each of these Hall of Famers did, one must possess much more than skill or a strong work ethic or good genes. The intangible and elusive quality that these legends had in common was Greatness. Their greatness, not their statistics, is what defines them. 

The boys and girls who grew up idolizing these legends didn’t need sabermetrics or a statistical analysis to know that they were special. The only methods a true fan of baseball needs to determine the greatness of a player is to watch him play, (at the ballpark or on TV), listen to his games on the radio, or ask one’sfather or grandfather about him. 

Long before Lou Brock died, my dad would get misty-eyed whenever he recalled watching him play at old Busch Stadium. Like countless other sons of my generation, I was raised to revere the legends of the diamond, just as my father had. Although Gibby and Lou were still playing when I was a kid, my memories of them are really my father’s memories of them. That’s how it is with baseball.

Though these four legends have now passed on, their Greatness will never fade away. It’s been a tough month for old baseball fans like me, but the game has the power to heal in even the most difficult of circumstances. Baseball has survived two world wars, several economic crises, the shock of 9/11, and even a few pandemics. 

Baseball Heaven has four new members who can take comfort in knowing two things: The game will live on for a long, long time, and their Greatness will not soon be forgotten.

Sometimes I Feel...

 

Sometimes I feel like I’m a songwriter trapped in a newspaper columnist’s body. Songwriters and opinion writers actually have quite a bit in common. Both write to express how they feel about a wide variety of subjects ranging from world affairs to personal relationships and from fast cars to pick-up trucks. Songs and opinion pieces frequently feature themes such as love, loss, fear, anger, hope, and despair. And when they’re done right, these short works of art can make a powerful impact on listeners and readers—as well as the writers themselves.

I hope that at some point in the last nine years I have written something that resonated with you in a meaningful way. Perhaps one of my accounts of our family’s camping misadventures stirred up a long-dormant memory you have of a family vacation that took place in your youth. Maybe my descriptions of teaching primary school music reminded you of the joy of discovering a new favorite musician when you were a kid. Hopefully my stories about being a dad and now a granddadhave helped you understand your relationships with your own family members a little better.

Two themes that are frequently touched on in music are mental health and substance abuse. From Hank Williams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” to “There’s a Tear in My Beer”, there are countless songs dedicated to songwriters’ emotional and chemical battles. The same is true for my columns.

It has been almost four years since I quit drinking and started writing about my struggles with alcohol addiction. It’s been about six months since I first wrote about living with bipolar disorder. Truthfully, I’ve been indirectly writing about those topics a lot longer than that. Over the years, some of the pieces I’ve written for the Journal have had an angry tone. Some have had a hint of self-loathing to them. Others have been so sad that they brought readers to tears. A few have probably managed to illustrate my manic side as well.

 

The thing that almost all of those 450 or so columns have in common is that they were each a reflection of the state of my mental health at the time they were written. This means that you, the reader, have unwittingly been acting as my therapist for the better part of a decade. I am truly grateful to you for being there for me over the years.

While I don’t see an actual therapist or participate in a 12-step program, I do not rely solely on my readers for my mental health needs. I do talk to my doctor about my issues, and as a matter of fact, I have an appointment to see him this week. Because my life is an open book, (or an open newspaper in my case), I will tell you now what I plan on telling him then: I am struggling.

Despite being the proud grandparent of a brand new, beautiful baby girl, I am struggling. I am struggling with the fact that because I work at a job with a high risk of exposure to coronavirus, I need to wear a mask whenever I’m around my granddaughter. I am struggling because despite the fact that I take a shower, change into clean clothes, wear a mask, and use hand sanitizer after coming home from school, I still worry about accidently making that brand new baby—or my own children—sick.

I am struggling. Teaching kindergarten is not for the faint of heart on the best of days, much less during a pandemic. It is not an exaggeration to tell you that I repeat the phrase “mask up” at least a hundred times a day. I see masks being twirled in the air, flung at other students, and sucked on like lollipops every single day at school. I spray every hard surface in the classroom with disinfectant twice a day and use hand sanitizer so often that it peels the flesh from my palms. And every time I use the alcohol-based sanitizer, I smell either vodka, gin, or tequila—depending on the brand.

I am struggling. I personally know eight people who have Covid-19 right now. I know another four who have had it recently, one of whom spent time in the ICU while struggling to breathe. As someone with asthma, I worry about how my body would react should I become infected. To stay safe, I stay home. Other than going on a handful of family camping trips and getting together with friends a couple of times, I have had no social life to speak of during the last seven months. I don’t envision that changing anytime soon.

Yes, I am struggling. I want to ease my anxiety. I want to ease my depression. I want to snuggle my grandbaby without worrying about making her sick. I want to get together with my car-crazy friends. I want to get together with my music-loving friends. I want to get together with my beer-drinking friends.Sometimes I feel like drinking again.

If that doesn’t sound like a country song, then I don’t know what does. I do know that even though I am struggling right now, this too shall pass thanks to the support of my family and friends, the readers/therapists who subscribe to the Boone County Journal, and some pretty good prescription meds.

Stay safe and stay sane. And as always, thanks for reading.