SubscribeStar Saturday: Social Contract

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A few weeks back I wrote a post entitled “Boomer Rant,” the inspiration for which was a piece by Erin over at Existential Ergonomics called “The Boomer Mentality,” which detailed the grasping materialism and petty shallowness of the various Boomer caricatures she and her boyfriend experienced during a visit to Yellowstone National Park.  Both Erin’s lighthearted post and my more strident polemic about that larger-than-life generation generated a stream of comments from outraged Boomers, all of whom played the part of victim well.  As I noted in my post and in multiple comments, “Boomers are either the heroes or the victims of their stories—they are never the villains.”

What was interesting in the resulting discussion was the lack of any concept of a social contract existing between one generation and the next.  That broken and/or missing social contract was the heart of the complaint both Erin and I brought in our respective posts:  where is the sense of obligation—and even just empathy—to the plight of Millennials, et. al.?  Not a single Boomer commenter—even the ones that do not fit the negative Boomer stereotypes—would come out and say, “You know, you’re right—the Millennials and Gen Xers and Zoomers have had and will have it harder than us.  We had our own struggles, but we enjoyed pretty good economic conditions for most of our lives.”

That failure or unwillingness to acknowledge the struggles of younger generations makes any sense of social contract impossible for the Boomers.  Remember, these are people who are gleefully boasting about how they will not leave their children anything, taking out reverse mortgages and blowing their fortunes (and pensions and Social Security payments) on RVs and casinos and luxury vacations.  Meanwhile, they’re the same people that complain about how expensive spaghetti noodles have gotten and will penny-pinch on stupid things, like the water bill—the living embodiment of “penny wise and pound foolish”—or their own children.  They’re the generation that tips 10% on a $500 tab.

Again, my point with this hyperbole is not to Boomer bash, per se, but to note the very concept of a social contract between generations—an implicit understanding of the obligations of each generation to the other that has existed in some form in every society in every age—is dying, if not non-existent.  That does not bode well for the future of the nation.  Indeed, it breeds radicalism and desperation.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Chicago 2024, Part III: Pizza and Ice Cream

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After a busy day of scurrying all over northwestern Indiana and Chicago, my brother and I settled into our accommodations at the Palmer House Hotel and rested for a bit.  My older brother is one of those guys who likes to have the television on constantly, and he had it tuned—bizarrely—to CNN (I guess he wanted to go for that “waiting-at-the-doctor’s-office” or “sitting-at-an-airport-concourse” feel).  We were in Chicago right after President Biden’s disastrous glitching out during his debate with President Trump, and it was interesting seeing how desperate the CNN anchors and pundits were.  The Democratic Governors met and announced their support for Biden, and it reminded me of how much work Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer—the one who the FBI plotted to kidnap to pin it on Republicans—has had done.

I showered the grime of Gotham and CNN from my doughy body and put on my best (and, I’ll hasten to add, only) Mickey Mouse t-shirt, and we went to Pizano’s Pizza and Pasta for dinner, a short walk from out hotel room.  Pizano’s obviously serves Chicago deep dish pizza, but they also feature “Chicago Tavern Style,” which I thought Pizza Hut made up as part of a recent advertising campaign (apparently, it’s real).

It turns out that Chicago Tavern Style is not just a clever marketing ploy by a formerly renowned national pizza franchise; it’s actually a Chicagoan innovation to pizza.  Basically, it’s the happy medium between, say, New York Style and Chicago Style slices.  The crust is a bit thicker, with a doughier quality than New York Style, but not so thick that it’s like eating a lasagna, a la Chicago Style.

Here’s a handy picture to illustrate:

My brother described the crust as “redolent of the oiliness of a Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizza from the Nineties,” which is the perfect description.  We ordered the “Jeweler’s Special” (the Loop is the old jewelers district in Chicago), which came with sausage and giardiniera.  Giardiniera is the blend of various peppers and carrots that Chicagoans put on their hot dogs.

The pie was delicious, but too spicy.  Keen observers will note the sheen of sweat on my massive forehead.  That wasn’t just because of my excess portliness; the peppers were causing sweat to pour down my face.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Chicago 2024, Part II: Through Mordor and Onto the River

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After visiting Willis Tower my brother and I had to make a long walk across Chicago to a boat landing, where we would embark on a ninety-minute cruise of the river.  The purpose of the tour was to showcase the incredible architecture in Chicago.

My brother is a bit of a Romantic—even more so than yours portly—and wanted to walk along the river for as much of our route as possible.  I was fine with that, but in following our GPS directions, we realized that it would not be feasible to follow the river on the side of the street where we needed to be.  I pointed out that we could cross back over the river and enjoy the river walk on that side, but that we’d be on the river for over an hour soon enough, so we might as well just follow the GPS.

Well, my brother’s Romantic wanderlust was right.  My route took us along Lower Wacker Boulevard.  Wacker is a multi-level street—it gets to as high as three levels—and the underside of the street is basically an underground tunnel.  It’s full of steam pipes, service accesses, and darkness.

And a dead pigeon.  When we emerged on the other side, my brother remarked that we’d been through Mordor.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Chicago 2024, Part I

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Whenever I tell people in the South that I am going to Chicago, there is inevitably a comment along the lines of “don’t get shot!” or “wear your body armor!” or the like.  Chicago does, of course, have a very high crime rate, and homicides are frequent.  But people act like I’m visiting Somalia or downtown Fallujah whenever I mention a trip to Chicago.

Chicago from Willis Tower 5

While I would avoid South Chicago, I would also encourage anyone to visit the Windy City at least once in their lives.  Yes, it’s a cesspool of political corruption, but how much does that really affect a tourist?  I wouldn’t want to live in Chicago, but it’s a great location to visit for its art, architecture, food, and vibrant street life.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Cold Approaching

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Regular readers will know that yours portly is back on the prowl, a lonely hunter stalking the forgotten byways of twenty-first-century romance like a sleek panther ready to pounce upon an unsuspecting gazelle.

This time around I’m very much taking the approach that dating should be fun, and not something to be rushed.  Despite some of my anti-femite proclamations, I very much enjoy the company of women.  Yes, some of them are insufferable, and their blather about inconsequential trivialities—and their refusal to take proactive steps to improve their lives and situations—is mind-numbing.  But having a good meal with an attractive and interesting woman is a pastime I relish.  My general thought process these days is that, even if nothing comes of a date, it will at least have been a couple of hours of interesting conversation and delicious food.

That attitude has been somewhat liberating.  Yes, I’d love to meet a good woman to wife up, but if that doesn’t happen, no big deal.  With that outcome-independence—not investing emotionally or otherwise in the outcome of any given date or interaction—I have newfound confidence.

With that confidence I’ve been engaging in a challenging but very rewarding bout of cold approaching.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Celebration of Life for Bob Gunn – Remarks

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Earlier this year one of my dear colleagues, Bob Gunn, passed away after suffering from a stroke.  He had worked at my school since its founding in the mid-1990s, and was an integral part to its operation, its culture, and its legacy.

Tonight (Saturday, 22 June 2024), my school is hosting a celebration of life service in honor of Bob, his legacy, and his memory.  I’ve been asked to say a few words, which I have included in this post.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Don’t Panic—God Is with Us!

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Introduction

What do we do when it feels like God Is nowhere to be found?  That question comes up again and again in the Gospels and, indeed, throughout Scripture.  Of course, we know that God Is Always with us; at least, we know that intellectually.  But there are times when we feel that He Has Abandoned us, even when we know that He Keeps His Promises.

Let us turn to tonight’s passage, the unusual story of the Boy Jesus at the Temple during the Feast of Passover:

Luke 2:41-52 (ESV):  The Boy Jesus in the Temple

41 Now his parents went to Jerusalem every year at the Feast of the Passover. 42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up according to custom. 43 And when the feast was ended, as they were returning, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem. His parents did not know it, 44 but supposing him to be in the group they went a day’s journey, but then they began to search for him among their relatives and acquaintances, 45 and when they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem, searching for him. 46 After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. 47 And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. 48 And when his parents [alternatively, “they”] saw him, they were astonished. And his mother said to him, “Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been searching for you in great distress.” 49 And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” [alternatively, “about my Father’s business”] 50 And they did not understand the saying that he spoke to them. 51 And he went down with them and came to Nazareth and was submissive to them. And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.

52 And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature [alternatively, “years”] and in favor with God and man.

Context

I have always found this passage to be particularly confounding.  It comes at the end of the long, famous, second chapter of Luke, the chapter we all know so well, and which we read aloud every Christmas.  The chapter consists of several scenes from Jesus’ early Life:  His miraculous Birth (v. 1-20); His Circumcision and Naming (v. 21); His Dedication at the Temple and the incredible story of Simeon (v. 22-35); Anna’s praises to God, and her instant recognition of Jesus as the Messiah (v. 36-38).  Then Mary, Joseph, and Jesus return to Nazareth until this passage.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Conversation with My Congressman

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Yesterday I had the opportunity to sit down with my US Congressman, Russell Fry, to discuss issues and concerns facing my little town.  Among the attendees was the mayor and another councilmember, as well as two of the Congressmen’s employees in the district.  It was a rare opportunity to sit face-to-face—and I literally sat right across from Congressman Fry—for an hour with a member of Congress to talk about problems and possibilities.  It was not a “town hall” or a campaign event or the like, so it was about as unfiltered and direct as a business meeting with a professional acquaintance.

There was definitely some politicking going on, to be sure, but it was of the subtle, “we’re-here-to-help” type.  On our end, we wanted to present some of the critical needs of the town in the hopes of getting some guidance on obtaining additional grant funds—and, of course, with the hope that our congressman might someday steer some succulent pork our way.  I dislike the sort of rentier system that seems to drive politics in the United States, but with an all-powerful federal government and hamstrung State governments, little municipal governments have to beg like any other interest group, hat in hand.

That said, it was a productive conversation.  The gist of Congressman Fry’s advice to us was “apply for grants, and let us know when you are doing so; we can offer support.”  Naturally, we already apply for any grant we can, but as he pointed out, small towns like ours don’t have a built-in “professional class” of grant writers and government apparatchiks who can constantly lead us to pools of federal dollars, at which we can subsequently engorge ourselves.

That was the relatively “unsexy” but, arguably, most important part of the meeting, at least as far as the Town of Lamar, South Carolina is concerned.  We pointed out our desire to pump and sell our own water again, and to several water and sewage projects that we need to address now.  I also pointed out that all the ARPA funds from a few years back essentially just created massive inflation in the construction industry, as contractors realized they could put forward bloated bids.  As such, even with that federal funny money slushing around in our coffers, the availability of said money simply priced most projects out of our reach.

Thus, the catch-22 of government:  small towns, sadly, depend upon the largesse of the State and federal governments to survive and perform their most basic functions, but that very same largesse inflates projects beyond the towns’ ability to pay.  It’s a vicious, inflationary cycle, that is further exacerbated by, well, general inflation.

But what about the sexy part of the meeting?  What about when I started to grill my congressman on Ukraine, the J-6 political prisoners, and more?

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Spring Jam 2024 Postmortem

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On Friday, 24 May 2024 I hosted the fourth annual Spring Jam Recital on my front porch.  It is one of two front porch recitals I host each year, the other being the Spooktacular in October.

This year’s Spring Jam was the smallest one yet.  I always host the event the Friday of Memorial Day Weekend, primarily because it is the night before graduation for my school’s seniors, so many families are still in town.  However, the combination of graduation season (which means graduation parties) and the holiday weekend mean it is a potentially dicey weekend in terms of schedules.

So far, I have been fortunate to have a large number of students who attend and play, but this year, Fate cut differently and we had a much smaller crowd than usual.  Even so, we had a blast.

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SubscribeStar Saturday: Yet Even More Graduation Day Wisdom

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Another graduation ceremony is upon us, signaling the end of the school year and the beginning of another summer vacation.  The grand cycle of the academic calendar continues, coming to a stately close after a few hectic months.

Last year I predicted that my chances of being asked to speak at commencement increased from 1% to about 5%.  That was overly optimistic; given that we don’t have speakers at commencement besides the valedictorian and the salutatorian, I’d put the odds at less than 1%.

Even if we did have a member of faculty speak, I think my chances would improve only slightly.  I’m a good teacher, and well-spoken when working from a prepared text, with a rich, buttery voice made for radio.  But I’m not one of the “glamorous” teachers.  My administration is very fixated on photogenic and youthful teachers—essentially, they want the face they put to the public to be wildly attractive.

I get that, and while I’m a handsome-ish dude and a dynamic music teacher, I’m too much of an iconoclast to fit into the mold.  I don’t check any sexy diversity boxes, and I don’t hang around the front office like desperate courtesans trying to win the favor of the king.  Perhaps if I did play politics a bit more I’d be a more likely candidate, but I have no desire or inclination to do so.

But I digress.  If I were to speak at graduation, I’d have some spicy-but-pedestrian bits of wisdom to share with the Class of 2024.

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