Heavy Lifting and the Little Things

Too many people volunteer to carry the stool when it’s time to move the piano

The hearty and unanimous “Amen” roared from the pews as the preacher launched his Sunday sermon with the piano mover quote.  More fortune cookie than scripture, it still rings true.  Curses to the stool carriers.  And, it’s not just the work shirkers:  way too many people complain about how it’s being moved, where it’s being moved and that it needs tuning.  Too many lightweights and whiners. Amen!

The vivid illustration received an uproarious response, but the congregation missed the point in the same way as last Sunday and the week before.  What we hear, so eagerly approve, and repeat with impunity is that those lightweights do as little as they can get away with and that those whiners complain about the way it is rather than work for a solution.

It is our self-righteous nature to see the lesson as it relates to others and join in the condemnation.  It happens every Sunday in nearly every pew in every church in the world.  I am treading on thin ice here because there is nothing more self-righteous than the sermon condemning self-righteousness, but two simple lessons arise from the piano mover quote. 

Lesson 1:  It’s me.  I am the stool carrier.  I am the slacker.  I am the whiner.  And, guess what.  So are you.  To hammer this point home, rephrase the quote.

I too often volunteer to carry the stool when it’s time to move the piano

Now, start carrying pianos.

Lesson 2: The little things matter. Someone needs to carry the stool; someone needs to carry the sheet music; and, it’s not always clear whether your assignment is the heavy lifting, insignificant, or intricate detail.  Recently, an old local activist told the story of a small restaurant in his suburban community about twenty years ago.  In those days, he spent much of his time advocating for the community but never dined at the restaurant even though he had heard rave reviews.  One day, the restaurant closed, and an adult video store opened in its place.  He still blames himself for the loss of that restaurant.  He was so busy carrying what he considered pianos that he failed in the most basic and fundamental way.

We all have assignments. Small task or large, we all can do more.  It’s about time we did.

On an unrelated or perhaps related note – next month, I will start my stint as a middle school volleyball coach in Metro Nashville Public Schools.  I can’t wait to be a part of the Jere Baxter Middle Prep team! 

Pulling it Together? Again!

“I had a preconceived notion once. But it turned out to be something that I already thought.”  -Ernest P. Worrell

The Metropolitan Nashville Board of Public Education is searching for a new Director of Schools – the position most school districts call Superintendent.  What do you think of the school board? Last week, conventional wisdom and chronic cynicism combined for a chorus of naysaying calls for delay. No one believed the school board can pull it together long enough to make the hire.

          I attended last week’s “emergency” board meeting that reconsidered the interim director to show my support for whatever the Board decided on that issue and joked that Ringling Brothers sent me to take notes on their competition.  I left that meeting troubled, but a sense of déjà vu gave me hope the Board would step up, take responsibility and do its job. 

Flashback: Seven or eight years ago, amid the search for a Director of Schools and a call to rid the world of the Nashville School Board, the members looked around the table at a retreat and committed to pull it together.  After the slate of finalists was deemed underwhelming by local pundits, politicians and media, the Mayor met individually with each Board member to persuade the Board to call off the search and wait for a year of failure so he could name the Director.  The Board had already decided to do its job and not allow any special interest to usurp its responsibility.  We rejected his suggestion that the school system plan a year of failure because – as a twist on the old saying goes – planning to fail is planning to fail.  No matter your opinion of that school board, former Director of Schools Jesse Register, or public education in general, you should recognize that the Board’s hiring of Dr. Register saved the school system and the school board from total annihilation.  

          That time on the Board is highlighted by this photo on the front page of the now defunct Nashville City Paper. 

How many hands do I have?  That’s right; I am a three-armed mutant with the innate ability to say “but on the other hand” one more time than most people.

          Welcome back to 2015, and the school board won the week!  Amid calls for delay, the School Board interviewed the finalists, accepting responsibility and displaying accountability that should be an example to every legislative body.  Whether they decide to hire one of these finalists, ask for more applicants, or to start school with an interim, we now know that this school board will do its job.  Are you comfortable with that?

Whether you’re comfortable with that or not, here is what you should do.  Call, email or otherwise contact your school board member (whether you live in Nashville or not and no matter what issue is presently before your school board) and express your sincere gratitude to them.  They hold the hardest and most important of all elected offices. Don’t express any opinion on any issue and don’t cite any vote or position taken by your school board member.  Don’t even have a reason.  Just say: “thank you.” 

The Best of All Possible Worlds in a Hurricane

Warning:  This post discusses race.  It’s okay to talk about race.  In fact, it is necessary community conversation and solitude contemplation.  If you can’t handle the discussion, try to learn to handle the discussion.

When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road   

 Just like the time before and the time before that.  

 In Patterson that’s just the way things go.  

If you’re black, you might as well not show up on the street  

‘Less you wanna draw the heat 

   

- Dylan, “Hurricane”

I said, “If that’s against the law,  

Tell me why I never saw   

 A man locked in that jail of yours  

Who wasn’t either black or poor as me.” 

- Kristofferson, “Best of All Possible Worlds”

Two episodes this week challenge my view of the world and its beauty and fairness – one, a hate-driven shooting rampage that killed nine people because of their race. Hold on, hold on. Stop there a minute.  Turn off the desensitizing news shows, stop looking for political or statutory solutions, and think about that. Some dude walked into a church, sat with people for an hour and then killed them because of their skin pigment or ancestry! … in America! …in the 21^st century!  Have you wrapped your head around that? 

The second episode involved a friend of mine returning home from work late Thursday night in an affluent neighboring county.  Given a hypothetical of the drive home, many of you could easily identify my friend as a black male in his early twenties. Conversely, if I told you on the front end that my friend is a black male in his early twenties, would you guess: a government official followed him from work; pulled him over, like many times before; and ordered him out of the car as six squad cars came screaming to the rescue.  My friend sat quietly on display beside the road for the good people to presume his crimes while the K-9 unit searched his car.  Finding nothing after two hours, the government released him with no citation and no record of the stop. My friend was told that he was pulled over because the government official “could not read his temporary tag”  aka: I’m sure you did something wrong and illegal. You can dream up all sorts of rationalizations, but if your explanation does not include prejudice, you’re wrong.

The essence of prejudice is conclusion based on generalization.  Can you guess the race and gender of someone who is shocked by my friend’s story?  or defensive?  or furious?  or resigned to accept it as the way it is and just happy he’s alive?  Don’t guess and don’t presume.   Instead, let’s examine our own thoughts and feelings and the foundations on which those feelings stand. Then, recognize the other perspectives and seek understanding of their foundations.  That search for understanding requires us to talk about it.

Prejudice and hatred are brothers. They live in the same house and nourish each other. Their home is our hearts, and their food is our souls.  Evict them!

Accounting for Luck on the Parenting Curve

Everything is measured by results these days. Conventional wisdom knows: fair play is overrated; skill and effort are too subjective; and excuses exist only in the realm of whiny losers.  Just give us results.

Few will admit that the end justifies the means until the end looks so good. Cheating on the front end (deflating the football or hacking into opponent’s computers) is cool when championship rings adorn several fingers.  Cheating on the tail end (e.g. twisting the measures) is justified as marketing.  Data driven decisions tout results but too often are based on a shallow review of the data or downright unreliable and misleading stats.  Even when everything is on the up-and-up, results are still skewed by the powerful phenomenon of pure luck.

This past week, I spent time with my three grown children at my home, at my daughter’s home and via skype.  If my children are the “results” by which my parenting is measured, one could argue that I am the greatest father of all time. My kids are awesome. Am I bragging? You’re d@*n right.  My kids are the greatest, and if you don’t believe it, just ask me.

Amazed by their overwhelming awesomeness, I began contemplating how my feeble parenting skills produced such undeniably positive results.  The answer, of course, is luck.  Parenting is the hardest job on Earth.  If you think you’re an expert, just wait until you actually have children.  Then, you’ll be on your knees like the rest of us, praying and hoping they turn out all right. 

There are some gruesomely terrible parents out there, and I suppose there are some can’t-miss, blue-chip parents. But for most of us, we struggle to do the best we can and hope for some luck.  

So, Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there.  And, good luck!