RARobertsJr.'s Open Salon Blog

I Still Believe in Santa Claus

Thu, 22 Dec 2011 09:12:06 -0500

~photo courtesy of Tiffany's Tidbits

The truth about Santa.

Santa Claus is both real and unreal; true and untrue. None of which matters to me. I believe in Santa Claus. Or, should I say, I believe in the Myth of Santa Claus. I love the prospect of Jolly Ol' Saint Nicholas and his Elves readying themselves for his magical flight around the globe delivering presents to young and old alike. I like it that he keeps a list, checks it twice, then decides who has been naughty and who has been found worthy of receiving gifts. I like to think his naughty list is parse.

His list making is not so far removed from another list mentioned in Christian scriptures. There, as well, is a reference to a list. The "Book of Life," as it seems to be called, whereby, those named will be awarded eternal life and those left off, well, no presents under the tree for you! (See Revelation.)

Santa rewarding good behavior and punishing bad is not that far removed from some mythical God doing the same. Fact is, I find Santa much more pleasing. At lease he laughs alot. My impression of the other bearded one is that he spends most of his time angry, jealous and overly enamored with right doctrine. I doubt if he laughs much. I think his medicine cabinet wreaks of Pepto-Bismol.

My mother, God rest her soul, continued to sign Christmas present tags with "To Richard from Santa," well into her eighties. I loved it!

I don't recall any experience , gut-wrenching or otherwise, when I learned that Santa was not real. This may have been due to my mother's long-standing ritual. I often imagined my mother chuckling as she penned each and every tag before mailing Christmas packages to her grown son.

My parents were far too busy trying to hide the secret of Dad's drinking and carousing to worry themselves with "the truth about Santa." My mother wrestled more with her belief in the Catholic Church and the God it adheres to. She certainly did not sign Christmas tags with "To Richard from the Pope." Thank Santa!

My point is that in this scientific age that we find ourselves in, the question of what is true and what isn't has narrowed so much that there is little, if any, room for the power of Myth. Even the religious have fallen prey, spending inordinate amounts of time and verbage to prove that faith ought to be grounded in scientific "facts" rather than, well, faith!

Find the actual artifacts of Noah's ark, for instance, then we will know that everything written in the Bible is factually true. I suppose the same could be said for Santa's workshop! Heaven help us if we ever scare up a real Elf!

And don't even get me started on efforts to scientifically prove the Genesis Creation accounts!

Santa Claus is a Myth - a lovely, charming and completely believable Myth. He has a rich history, one that, over the centuries, has gone through magical changes.

Quite frankly, I believe we need Santa. We need to believe in something beyond ourselves that has the power to not only bless us with presents we ask for , but, who also acknowledges that acting morally in the world is worth it! God knows we are uncertain about that!

We need Santa because we need the whimsical, the magical and the delightful during the darkest days of Winter. We need light in the darkness. We need laughter to dry our tears. We need hope in the midst of despair; faith in the midst of so much disbelief; love in the midst of so much that seems evil.

The truth is, whether Santa exists or not, one can embrace the Santa Myth as if he does. The Myth is real. The Myth is worth celebrating, lived out in ways such as my mother, or, in whatever magical, creative and life-enhancing ways one chooses. From lighted Santas on the lawn, to Santa displays in the home, to the simple, yet, whimsical words on package tags, Santa can be the "reason for the season" if you so choose.

And in this age when the Christian church let the retailers pimp it's sacred hymns about Jesus, I would much rather hear "Here Comes Santa Claus" playing over my head as I shopped than "Silent Night." At least the first contributes to the festivness of the season, while the other should stay within the Sanctuary where it belongs.

Santa is way more fun.

Where the River Takes a Surprising Turn

Thu, 4 Aug 2011 07:08:11 -0400

*1952 Iowa liscense plate from www.deerrunmercantile.com

*******

For those who live either on the East or West Coasts, still believing that we Iowans only live on farms surrounded by huge fields of corn, I have some news for you. We don't. I have lived in Iowa since 1992 and have yet to walk a corn field!

I have some further news. If, by chance, you thought the Mississippi River ran in a straight line North and South, launching from Western Minnesota then slicing a trail through the middle of the country to the Gulf of Mexico, I am about to re-educate you.

Here in Davenport, Iowa, the Mighty Mississippi runs East and West!

*from www.americantrails.org

As you can see, this is the only place where that Ol' Man River takes such a surprising turn. And let me tell you, when you are new to what is called the Quad-Cities, this can play havoc with one's sense of direction!

For instance, I live in Davenport, which is north of Rock Island. So, if one is driving along the river say toward Davenport, one feels like they are going north, when in fact, the direction one is traveling is west!

Confused?

Upon first moving in the QCA (as we affectionately call this place), I had a terrible time figuring directions. Told that a certain place was "west of here," I would invariably drive North. Of course, this meant driving some distance before realizing this, then, trying to negotiate the one-ways in order to turn around. (Remind me to write about what I really think of the city planners who turned perfectly good two-way streets into one-ways!)

One can tell the Quad-Cities newbies by their drive times.

However, over the years, I have come to learn both how to get around, as well as, the wonderful surprise presented by this Ol' River of ours. For, to me, the Mississippi has become a metaphor for my life here.

How and why the river flows as it does here is, to me, a mystery. And I, like so many others, lived with the perception that the "great river" traversed only north and south. Just as I lived with the perception that Iowans were hayseed corn farmers.

Little did I know that I would live in an area that boasts a rich music history that features legendary jazz greats such as Bix Beiderbecke, or that houses the wonderful Figge Art Museum. Nor did I realize that every year on the last weekend in July, some of the finest runners in the world come to compete in the Bix 7 race. A race that, this year, featured over 18 thousand participants.

We are home to some pretty progressive stuff. Included in this list is our River Music Experience which is home to a steady stream of world-class musicians and artists from around the world. There is so much more here than meets the eye.

*photo courtesy of flicker

Turns out that for me, living in the Quad-Cities has been full of unimagined twists and turns.

Life will surprise us. Rivers take journeys that one could never have imagined. Places are not at all what they are perceived to be. People don't fall into some neatly tied up bundle of categories and myths.

Sitting by the Ol' River and watching it flow from east to west always serves as a pleasant reminder.

*from www.associatedcontent.com

Come. Sit with me. Let's see what surprises await us.

Boehner's Missed Opportunity

Mon, 14 Feb 2011 06:02:53 -0500

~photo courtesy of worldnewsnow.com

On Sunday's "Meet the Press," House majority leader John Boehner of Ohio got a pitch over the heart of plate and rather than hit the home run, he fouled it off.

Asked by Moderator David Gregory about President Obama's citizenship and religion, both of which are called into question by more Americans than can even be imagined, Boehner missed an opportunity to unambiguously declare that the President is both a citizen of the United States and a Christian. Furthermore, he missed the chance to say once and for all that discussing these absurdities is pointless.

Instead, Boehner commented, "It's not my job to tell the American people what to think. Our job in Washington is to listen to the American people." And while Beohner went on to say that he accepted the President's word that he is a Christian, as well as, the "facts" of Obama's citizenship, his refusal to "tell the American people" what to think crept eerily close to wimpiness.

Gregory even played a portion of a Fox News conversation with Iowa voters. When the moderator of this "focus group" asked how many thought President Obama was a Muslim, nearly half of them raised their hands!

When pressed as to whether it was Boehner's responsibility to "stand up to that kind of ignorance," the pitch to the heart of the plate, Boehner then fouled off the pitch with his inane comment about not telling the American people what to think. He went on to say that he believed both Obama and the State of Hawaii, but, was not going to tell either the right-wing members of his party and the American people, "stop it!"

Leadership is tricky. A leader walks a dangerous tightrope, one that spans the divide between empowerment and retreat. Boehner finds himself in the position of leading his own Republican Party. He can nurture ignorance, which has the potential to fan the flames of fear, or he can empower others to a greater good. To do the latter, there will be moments when he alone must stand up, hit the home run and declare the facts as they are, not back-step with some imbelic elucidation.

Leadership requires stoutheartedness and the ability to communicate a vision that may indeed yet be in the minds of those listening. I am reminded, for instance, of Dr. Martin Luther King. "I have a dream today..." Reminded, too, of President John F. Kennedy's clarion call, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country."

These words were not an attempt to tell the American people what to think. These were visionaries with their fingers on the pulse of their times who had the courage to trumpet a clarion call. Never mind that as a nation we weren't there yet.

Even within the long, storied history of his own party, John Boehner sits atop the legacy of those leaders who went before him. Think Abraham Lincoln's words to a fractured nation or President Ronald Reagan's ultimatum, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall."

Boehner's appearance on "Meet the Press" could have been an opportunity to lead by example. He might have said something like this. "David, I am glad you asked that question. Let me be absolutely clear. I believe the President is a citizen of this great country. Furthermore, I completely believe him when he says he is a Christian. It is time to lift our eyes from issues long ago decided and dedicate ourselves to restoring American jobs and completing our missions around the world. I call on all of us to rededicate ourselves to doing both."

This would have been true leadership. A home run.

Instead, he fouled off the pitch and now looks like a man who is not ready for the Major Leagues.

On a World Without Borders

Tue, 4 Jan 2011 07:01:27 -0500

~photo courtesy of digitaltrends.com

The hours I have spent in our local Borders Bookstore defies measure. On one rainy Saturday afternoon, I walked into this Mecca of books, magazines, and music just shortly after noon, only to leave in time to make myself a lovely dinner, open a wonderful bottle of merlot and relax on the sofa with John Grisham's newest novel.

When I was working in retail, I had the joy of a weekday off. A morning cup of coffee coupled with a fine book of poetry at Borders restored my faith in life, humanity and myself. Not to mention those impromptu conversations with the most amazing people.

However, for booksellers, these have been hard times. So, I was not surprised to read in the New York Times that Borders Booksellers began to show signs of the kind of unsteadiness that leads one to believe its days are numbered.

According to Julie Bosman, a writer for the Times, Borders is on the precipice. Through hastily called meetings with book publishers, Borders execs were communicating with major publishers that payments are going to have be delayed. As quoted in the article, Mary Davis, spokeswoman for Borders, stated, "We're commited to working with our vendors as a part of our overall effort to refinance."

In the words of one iconic Professor Harold Hill, "We got trouble, my friend."

To make matters worse, it was also reported that two top Borders' executives had resigned. Monday. Can anyone say "Sinking Ship?"

It seems that Borders has been losing money for years. And with the holiday season now behind us, the fact that the company has yet to post holiday sales numbers seems ominous.

Ms. Bosman quotes Peter Wahlstrom, an analyst for Morningstar as saying, "Book sales have been either flat or down in the last several years. It's difficult evironment over all."

Looking back, I should have known something was up. For instance, in the Borders that graces my hometown, soft and comfy leather chairs were replaced by guady looking card displays. The music section shrank substantially.

Yet, still on a weekend, a trip to Borders for coffee, reading, browsing and conversing is like a trip to an oasis. An oasis filled with the waters of books with real covers, people with something to share and hours of simply browsing through the thousands of books that I will never get to read, though at least I would have the opportunity to turn their pages in order that I may catch a glimpse of a writer's words.

According to some, we are to chalk it up to the coming of the digital age.

As we Americans become even more individualized with our digital choices, as we move from a world of community to one of personalized entertainment, bookstores are bearing the brunt of a more personalized age.

First, it was the small, independent bookstores. Now, even the chains are feeling the effects of an age hooked on powering up a hand-held device, rather than hearing the sound of pages being turned.

According to the NY Times article, Barnes and Noble, which rolled out the Nook, experienced a robust holiday season.

I am saddened by the prospect that one day, I will get in my car, drive to Borders, only to find an empty building.

But, then, that's the way it is. Things change.

However, not always for the better.

Sighs.

*********

~video courtesy of YouTube

My One Antiques Roadshow Complaint

Mon, 3 Jan 2011 07:01:12 -0500

~photo courtesy of www.pbs.org

I love Antiques Roadshow! The American version of a similar show in Britian, Antiques Roadshow is based on a simple premise. People are invited to bring whatever antiques they might own to then be appraised. The more unique and costly antiques are then featured in an hour long broadcast, which lends itself to a hour filled with surprises, education and amazement.

The American version of Roadshow originates from various cities throughout the country. Judging by the thousands of people who bring their antiques to be appraised and Antiques Roadshow's longevity, I share my enthusiasm for the Public Broadcasting System's hit with a large audience.

However, I have one bone to pick with both Antiques Roadshow and with the world of Antiques collecting in general. The subject of my irritation involves flaws. Flaws are not allowed.

Here is how it works. The more pristine the antique the higher the value. For instance, I collect Arts and Crafts Pottery. Find a piece with a crack, chip or blemish and the value goes down. Never mind that I might love the particular piece I want to purchase, if that piece is flawed in any way, I am not going to get nearly as much for it. Pristine pottery equals highest price.

Let's take another example - furniture. If that wonderfully crafted piece of Chippendale furniture, circa 1700's, has been refinished, then, the value drops dramatically. Only pieces with their original petina hold the highest regard by collectors. If the orginal hardware has been replaced, then the price goes down. Find a crack or a chip and that, too, weakens the resell value.

In antiques, it seems, perfect sells. Big. Flaws don't.

True, no one wants a really busted up piece of early New England furniture. But, if it is one thing I have learned from Antiques Roadshow it is that the more pristine or perfect the antique is, the more value in the marketplace the piece commands.

When I first began to collect Arts and Crafts pottery, I followed this "no-flaw" rule. I would only purchase blemish free pots. However, this became problematic. I would also find pots which captured my interest, yet, were cracked, chipped or less than perfect. I loved them. Yet, I kept hearing those antiques experts whisper in my ear, "Don't buy it! It is flawed!"

Then, I started to question the rule. First, where in the world is anything perfect? And who said perfect is worth aspiring to? Perfection was highly overrated.

Secondly, I thought about all the wonderful characters I have encountered in movies, books and life. The more fascinating ones are flawed. In fact, it is their flaws that draws me. The drama occurs as they wrestle with their own imperfections. In addition, how they triumph over those imperfections - over their own demons - is what makes their stories so damned interesting.

There are so many examples of this. For instance, in my odds-on favorite sports movies of all time, Hoosiers, people overcome thier own fears, mistakes and limitations as a small Indiana high school basketball team accomplishes the seemingly impossible - winning the Indiana State Basketball championship.

There is the coach, Norman Dale, who triumphs over a terrible incident in which he struck one of his college players. There is "Shooter" whose alcoholism is an embarrasment to his son, his community and to himself. Barbara Hershey plays Myra, a teacher at the high school who has come back to the small town of Hickory to be with her widowed mother not only to be with her, but to also get away from her own heartbreak. Then, there are the high school players themselves, wrestling with their own fears and their disbelief.

What makes all these characters so damned fascinating is precisely their cracks, chips and brokenness.

Lastly, I realized we are all broken vessels. Further, none of us lives long enough to resolve all our issues, fix all our mistakes, overcome all our limitations, or achieve some illusion of perfection.

If anything, the best we can achieve, I suppose, is coming to some kind of peace about it all. Because really, it is all that imperfection that makes our stories so fascinating, colorful and real.

So, while having pristine, perfect antiques may be good for their value, it is their stories that really matter to me. A cracked, chipped or flawed pot tells a story. We may never know precisely what that story is, but, the fun is in imagining the road any antique has traveled.

So, now, if I see a piece of pottery I like, no matter its condition, I seriously considering buying it. To my delight, several less-than-perfect pots now grace my apartment shelves.

I couldn't be happier.

If I were to bring one of these beautiful pieces to the Antiques Roadshow, I would not be invited to sit with an expert on camera. I don't care. If you were to come visit me, I would be still proud to tell you how I got them.

Then, we could speculate as to where each piece may have been. And this is a value worth far more than money.