It was always about IF, not WHAT they could take away from us
When my children eulogize me at my funeral I hope they remember me as a hardy man of unwavering work ethic who wasn’t afraid to cry in front of them. I also hope that the Boston Pops plays selections from Handel’s Messiah, Beethoven’s 9th, and artful renditions of all-time Motown, Blues, and Classic Rock hits in a dealer’s choice sort of endeavor. Maybe the second goal is more attainable, considering the fact that I put my glaring faults on display for my children nearly as often as the sun rises. The other day I took my kids to a movie and cried in front of them. I always try and keep it to a minimum so as to not make it weird, but you know, your dad crying in front of you and all that.
I believe movies are the highest form of art because they contain all other art forms. I’ve dealt, but the lion’s share of the last two years has been a lot for me. I yearn for new movies each weekend I can attend and enjoy with my kids, sweetheart, and total strangers. That communal aspect is another reason movies are elevated high above all other art forms in my mind. We don’t build movie theaters with couch seating for two. They are a wonderful blessing for an extrovert who gets more out of the experience simply because he sees others enjoying it. I argued they are the highest form of art to a friend who countered with buildings and architecture. I answered by stating that architecture has utility and practical value. There is no practical reason I’d go see a movie other than emotional enjoyment.
The other day I took three of my children to see Dune in Imax. As the previews ticked off and the movie began, I broke down in tears. My boys just looked over and smiled, acknowledging the softy their dad is without having to bring it up. It was so calming, so refreshing, so invigorating, so comforting to be back in a crowded movie theater, unmasked, enjoying a fabulous work of art like whole parts of 2020 and 2021 never even happened, or maybe more so because they did happen. If you want to a glimpse into some of my other weaknesses, here you go. I also cry when I listen to the soundtrack to Les Misérables, sing along to “River Deep, Mountain High” by Tina Turner, experience Sauron’s castle crumbling, and watch Captain America whisper “Assemble” after Sam flies in on his left.
I realize I’m an entitled American. We’ve built a rich, powerful, influential, comfortable, opulent, and luxurious civilization and given way to softness and brittleness of spirit in the process. We misconstrue and take mounds of umbrage at dumb words spoken by an inconsequential public figure, then get offended when others get offended at a public figure we like and support. I’m overweight by a country mile because I eat like a hyper-Baptist on 4th of July. I piss, moan, and spit nickels about the loss or temporary taking away of frivolities that aren’t ever on the mind of those whose survival is a daily struggle. In recent memory, I’ve spent more time pitching fits like a spoiled brat whose toys have been taken away than I’d like to admit.
I can’t get a Whopper at 3am, see a movie or sporting events without dumb restrictions, go through the day without hearing certain preset buzzwords constantly, assume the shelves at the grocery store will be fully stocked, enjoy a meal out unencumbered by nonsensical mandates, or do a host of other things I took for granted before. These are trifles, and I get that. I really, really do. BUT WHY DO WE HAVE A COUNTRY FULL OF LUXURIOUS TRIFLES IN THE FIRST PLACE IF WE AREN’T ALLOWED TO ENJOY THEM?
I’ve heard the arguments of communal and collective responsibility. They come from those who also argue that they can’t get by in this capitalist hell-scape. That’s quite a convenient rhetorical standpoint, convincing everyone they and no one else in a similar lot can make it and therefore everyone’s problems are everyone’s problems and we can feel free to police everyone's thoughts, actions, and purses like everyone is everyone else’s kid. I find no evidence in my faith or the writings of men that my responsibilities go beyond those I choose to keep in my charge and those bearing my surname. My faith loves the cheerful giver, not the forced giver living under standards and restrictions of new norms. And statistically speaking, those of my faith are the most generous givers, if that means anything to a keyboard warrior furiously typing out an indignant reply to the previous few sentences.
We are essentially Hobbits here in America, but not in a good way. In an endearing letter to a fan, J.R.R. Tolkien famously stated “I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size).” He meant in terms of a simple life of enjoying and cultivating nature for nature’s sake, not what it could yield him in his devotion to industry. So the parallel to my own life isn’t exactly 1 :1, but Tolkien also loved the wildly varied applicability his writing had to many people, so I’m going to steal the comparison.
We have a high-yield, fat land full of fat animals and fat people who like it that way and are given the space and liberty to live as such. We are kept safe by a wonderful network of vigorous and sturdy servicemen and servicewomen who hold the line of an ordered, peaceful society. Most of us can work a good job without having to be in particularly good shape or possessing of agricultural and building skills. Life is marked by plenty and we can be at relative ease, and that’s exactly why so much more might be taken away. In Middle Earth it was the vigor, diligence, and bloody sacrifices of the Dúnedain, Gondor, Elven kingdoms, Rohan, and lesser realms who kept the oblivious and simple Hobbits safe. This allowed the Hobbits to grow fat and soft.
Yes, the Shire folk in the end of the story rose up and expelled the ruffians who came up the greenway to despoil their land with machines and wanton felling of trees. But look at how easy it was for a few poorly led, poorly trained, disorganized louts to accomplish that task. Only a warrior-like return of their local heroes—vastly evolved in countenance, strength, experience, and even stature—was the spark to raise them up again. The quickness and ease of the ruffians’ expulsion by a fat people who’d finally had enough shows just how little a threat the ruffians really posed. If Mordor had designs and set forth even a sliver of strength to the Shire, the Hobbits would not have lasted long “even as slaves”, as the author puts it.
I am also a Hobbit, and that is to my shame. I’m a Christian man living in America and know nothing of real persecution. I’m writing a stupid essay in a nice office while the doldrum hours of my cushy day job while themselves away. I’m going to listen to a comedy podcast as I drive my comfortable minivan home to a warm house and carb-loaded dinner before retiring to watch some fetching program on Netflix as I doze off on a soft mattress.
Point is, I can have a lot taken away before I turn into the feral revolutionary backed into a corner that’s always lurking in the imagination of weak men who issued from stronger fathers. But why should I, if only to prove once again true the recent maxim that hard times create strong men, strong men create easy times, easy times create soft men, and soft men create hard times? Our dependency is inviting the opportunistic and greedy to bully and control the complacent and provincial, yet again. Why can some not be content to leave well enough alone? Why is engaging in honest trade and friendly exchange of ideas not enough for them? Why do they run wild with their ambitions, energized in their zeal by the “help” and “leadership” their conscience has convinced them they are rendering? And no, I don’t think Fox News, Republicans, unchecked venture capitalists, or other meddling politicians are the answer. Human spirit is.
For you see, the human spirit bristles, chafes, rails, rages, flails, roars, surges, and storms against domination, oppression, and control. The number of slaves the world has witnessed and their eventual freeing—often by themselves with meager means and lesser numbers—is evidence.
I don’t love the current debates raging in the public square for the unreasoned anger on display. I very much prefer civil debate. I love the current debates because they show a spark of that human spirit raging against control taken without leave from a people who live within the boundaries of the law, not having ever willfully subordinated themselves to arbitrary, inconsistent, and Draconian mandates of power-hungry ugly ones who don smiling masks.
I don’t love the current culture wars for what their tragic end might be; a massive loss of life. That would be horrific. I love them because they show a revolutionary spirit that will push back first with words against denial of autonomy. I hope it doesn’t have to go past words. Unhappy blows will be a loss for all of us and the way of life we’ve enjoyed. Then it’ll be up to hard times to create strong men again.
I’m not a fan of imparting intent. I can’t read minds and would be crazy to try. I’d love to give others the benefit of the doubt and apply the grace of good intentions. The aggressive and inflammatory title of this piece completely violates that principle. I think at a certain point, people reveal themselves and their intentions. Problem is they presume—possibly correctly—we are beyond the point of doing something about it.
They’ve shown they can take our toys and trifling luxuries away. They’ve shown they can selectively squeeze and massage the flow of opinions and voices, informed and otherwise. Side note: Always beware of those who would restrict and police their fellow man’s free speech in the name of keeping speech intelligent and informed. The framers of our government installed no such contingencies. The solution to dumb free speech is more free speech, not bottlenecking free speech.
They’ve shown they can take our livelihood away for “not following science”, “unacceptable opinions”, “being on the wrong side of history”, and “preaching hate” for following one’s conscience in personal and professional dealings. They’ve shown they can seize and distribute our income to those who choose not to work. They’ve shown they can and will give corporate welfare to those who have a hard time containing the ever-expanding size of their coffers. They’ve shown they can and will waste our seized monies for policing of the world despite there being little reward, upside, or profound and long term changes. The five-fingered discounts of their mischievous hands only serve to further embolden their wicked designs.
Possibly worst of all, they’ve shown small business owners they can be shut down and be forced to count on the government should their business property fall under certain categories. My landscaping business experienced this to a small extent in 2020, though restaurant and salon owners got the brunt of it. The governor of Michigan put a temporary moratorium on professional lawncare, as if landscapers outside mowing the lawn were spreading COVID-19. I told my children “Your local, state, and federal government does not have the right to tell you to not earn your wages” and proceeded to mow my customer’s lawns. My story was not so dramatic and troubling as some businesses who did get on the governor’s radar. I shudder to think of the ma and pa operations shuttered by the actions of the very people who make hay sermonizing on faceless corporations and greedy conglomerates.
So I have purposed myself to not whine and moan about things I can live without. God, prayer, shelter, water, food, and clothing are all I need. We can, after all, afford to have a lot taken away, and we can live without a lot we frantically cling to as indispensable. But this is about if the thief can steal, not what they can steal, and my God has plenty to say about that. Vigilance against the thief in the night is the price of having that which is worth stealing, particularly when so many have started practicing apologetics on behalf of the thieves in our civilization. Thieves of wealth, thieves of possession, thieves of freedom, thieves of life, thieves of innocence, thieves of peace, they all have their public defenders in the streets right now, zealously doing rhetorical work on a myriad of shaky moral grounds.
So it’s not as if we shouldn’t be the least bit alarmed or on our guard. The desolation of Venezuela and other failed states whose wicked government induced and sped the failing show my comparison to the fictional world of Tolkien to be all too apt, possible, likely, maybe even incipient. Lord help this wretched lot of fat people who obliviously enjoy their fat animals and fat land if that ever happens.
Hey there, beloved reader! Don’t stop reading yet. I enjoy writing and creating content for you. Recently, I took on the Herculean task of fixing America and wrote a book on the subject; the very literal-titled “I’ll Fix America Tonight”. There is a a link where you can conveniently add the book to your Amazon cart (if you’re flush with about $20 in cash right now) or your wish list (if around $20 in cash is a little too much right now, but hypothetically not too much in the near future). Buy it, and help end poverty (namely my poverty). Thanks for reading!
Image taken from:
https://the1a.org/segments/dr-anthony-fauci-coronavirus-covid/
