Floyd and Lucille Burroughs on Porch: The Will to Survive

    -Floyd and Lucille Burroughs on Porch, Walker Evans, 1936

       Walker Evans’ photograph of a Depression ravaged father and daughter sitting on their porch instills in me a sense of complex emotional paradoxes. And while I am fairly certain he was only trying to capture the true reality of the Great Depression’s effect on those living through it, I find myself struck by this image in particular.

       In this photo, I see such truth in the stoicism found on their faces. Barefooted and threadbare, their clothing tells a tale of chronic desperation. And the dirt on their feet implies a long road ahead. They sit in closed-off positions, suggesting a defensiveness— likely brought on by the losing battle they’ve been fighting. And the way she stares directly into the camera! There is a startling lack of childhood innocence—describing to me her journey, explaining that she had to grow up very quickly.

And yet, her father’s face tells a different story. I see determination in his gaze. His closed mouth speaks of quiet strength…fortitude. He has dug in for the war he fights, his trenches stocked with little more than his own physical strength and his sheer desire to survive.

In this photograph I see the powers of the human will. He will continue to fight, if only because he knows should he give up, he dies. And if he dies, what chance does his daughter have? And while no emotional closeness is shown here, the fact that they are together—she in the chair, and he on the ground— evokes a sense of their familial bond. They seem to say, “We’ll stick together until the end—be it your end or mine, or the end of the struggle.”

       This calls to mind The Old Woman in Volatire’s Candide. She knew such sadness, such tragedy, such tribulation that she considered taking her own life to be done with it all. The shame of illegitimacy, rape, slavery… And still, her will to live survives:

“A hundred times I wanted to kill myself, but always I loved life more. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our worst instincts; is anything more stupid than choosing to carry a burden that really one wants to cast on the ground? to hold existence in horror, and yet to cling to it? to fondle the serpent which devours us till it has eaten out our heart? —In the countries through which I have been forced to wander, in the taverns where I have had to work, I have seen a vast number of people who hated their existence; but I never saw more than a dozen who deliberately put an end to their own misery.”

       Countless songs speak to this theme, but one I wish to highlight today is JoDee Messina’s Bring on the Rain.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vn6F2TP-JiM

       And I concur: When times get hard, I will push through it. Things are not always easy, but I will never give up. So bring on the rain!

Modern Times: Paradise

“It’s paradise!”

      -Modern Times, Charlie Chaplin

      According to the Beatles, “All You Need is Love.” 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9siyJtoWRAU

And having just started out having nothing a short five years ago (and quite honestly, still having very little), I would tend to agree. We didn’t need a big house…. or a fancy car… or a nice TV… or the newest phones to make us happy (In fact, until about a week ago I was using a phone that was literally seven years old.). We were happy because we had each other (still are, I might add). Heck, we didn’t even need electricity!! (About three and a half years into our marriage, we were without power for three days in a freak snowstorm at his parent’s house for the holidays. And we seriously had a blast!)

      So, when A Factory Worker (Charlie Chaplin) and an orphan Gamine girl start out together in a ramshackle little shed on the beach where everything is either broken or breaking, and Charlie’s character exclaims: “It’s paradise!” I am one to believe he truly meant it. Because I have lived it—and it truly is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_UCo4xvbhU

As a side-note to this post: Chaplin dedicated his life’s work to making people laugh in a time when laughs were as hard to come by as a spare penny, and by that I mean to say that in the Great Depression, not only were pockets poor, but spirits also. His work gave people a lift when they needed it most. And there is tremendous beauty in that. I admire his fortitude and his ability to continue to be happy in the hard times. And as we stand here in another time of trial and hardship (I refer to the current depression we find ourselves in, and not the tragic Colorado shooting), I hope we can go back and resurrect Chaplin’s work and find the simple joys in life once more. And Smile (which happens to be one of my most favorite songs of all time).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9ZHxNa50bY

Stranger than Fiction: Heroes

Ana Pascal : [to cast-covered Harold] So what happened? 
Harold Crick : I stepped in front of a bus. 
Ana Pascal : What? Why? 
Harold Crick : There was a boy I had to pull out of the way? Ana Pascal : What? 
Harold Crick : There was this boy, I had to... Ana Pascal : You stepped in front of a bus to save a boy? Harold Crick : I had to. I didn't have a choice.

                                    —Stranger than Fiction, Zach Helm

            Harold Crick knew when he stepped in front of that bus that he risked his life. And still, he could not do otherwise. He had to. That’s grounds for Superhero status if you ask me.

Heroes don’t always have superpowers or costumes. Sometimes heroes are simply the guy that lends a helping hand when your arm are full of groceries (or boxes—thanks again, Chase! ;) ). Or the woman that tends to a crying child’s scraped knee and hugs all the hurt away. Or a friend that offers a hug and a shoulder to cry on for your broken heart…

On the subject of powers: I firmly believe that everyone has the capacity to be somebody’s hero—and I know for a fact that my sweet, ordinary husband is one of them. No one is more fun than he. And for our three-year old daughter, that is plenty of grounds for Superhero-dom. And no one is better at fixing things than he, and for me, his ever-clumsy wife, that is grounds for Superhero-dom. No one is more withholding of judgment or more forgiving than he, and for his recovering drug-addict and borderline personality disorder sister, that is surely grounds for Superhero-dom. My husband is all of our hero, and each for a unique reason. Which reaffirms my conviction that everyone can be a hero. He may not even realize that he is our hero, but he is.

And on costumes: One very prominent hero in my mind wore only the guise of a construction worker. New York, January 2007, one man fell onto the subway tracks, seizing. Another man, waiting for his train with his two daughters saw the oncoming train and jumped onto the tracks, pushing the other man between the rails and ultimately saving his life. Wesley Autrey—surely the hero of the man who fell—said: “I don’t feel like I did something spectacular; I just saw someone who needed help. I did what I felt was right.”

 And my biggest hero—Jesus Christ—who literally saved my (eternal) life—wore carpenter’s clothes and preached bearing one another’s burdens. And He saved all of us.

So what are we doing with the life He saved for us? Are we paying it forward? Are we strengthening that legacy? I said before we all have the capacity for Superhero-ism—let us develop that capacity and become heroes to those around us, following Christ’s footsteps, that we may one day be like Him—the perfect hero.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbxkHA1gnSE

The Entombment of Atala: Death, Dying, and Living Again

     

    -The Entombment of Atala, Anne Loius Girodet-Trioson

“I have passed like a flower. I have dried like the falling grass.” Words carved in the walls of a humble tomb, where two men bury their lost loved one.

Today, I have a particular sympathy for this painting, as the son of a dear family friend lies motionless in a hospital bed, on life support. I feel the depth of emotion the artist expresses. As I see the figures she painted—a priest, there to help Atala’s salvation in the afterlife, not unlike Jackson’s doctors doing all they can to save him, and Atala’s Indian lover holding her for the last time, embracing the last remnants of the love they shared, just as Jackson’s mother is holding fast to what may be the last of him, embracing what she can of the life he may have for little longer.

Atala is draped in white, suggesting something angelic and pure— even Christ-like about her; I see that linen as the white bed sheet currently covering my friend’s son. Atala’s lover is dressed only in a red loin cloth, suggesting the atoning blood of the Savior; I see it as the blood lovingly spilled from Jackson’s mother on the day of his birth some 16 years ago.

And as their family solicits prayers, and family and friends gather in spirit to fast, I look at the crosses in the picture, and I beg the Lord to give them peace—true peace— peace that reaches into the depths of your soul to embrace you with its warmth—peace that I know only comes from Christ. And, though sadness envelops me heart for his family right now, I know that, should Jackson die today, all will still be well because of Christ’s infinite and eternal sacrifice for us. Christ died and was resurrected the third day, that we may conquer death as He did—that we may rise from death full of life, and that we might gain eternal life. I see that life in the flowers growing just outside Atala’s tomb. It looks as if, in time, these flowers will overtake the tomb, encompassing it in the life they possess.

In this painting, I see the fragility of life. No one thinks they will die young, but, as Atala’s vibrant beauty suggests, all too often there are those that do. May we remember how quickly our time on this earth comes to a close. And may we cherish what little time we do have.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_YntXGKOzc&feature=fvwrel

“What can you see on the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea, a pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home…”

-Into the West, Annie Lennox




For updates on Jackson and his family, please go to 

http://wakingupjackson.blogspot.com/

La Triviata: True Love

"Alfredo, how should you understand all the love that’s in my heart. How should you know that I’ve proved it even at the price of your contempt? But the time will come when you’ll know. And you’ll admit how much I loved you. God save you then from all remorse. Even after death I’ll still love you."

                                                                                   -La Triviata, Verdi, 1:31: 30

        Love hurts. Or at least it can. And still, true love continues to love even whilst the loved one hurts the lover. Verdi has shown this throughout his opera La Triviata. Violetta is beautiful and wealthy, and she lives a life of parties and glamour, searching only for the next great “pleasure” in her life. Until Alfredo comes along, confessing his undying love to her, after which, she begins to fall in love with him. But, hesitating, she at first refuses him, indeed causing him great pain. After a time, however, she gives in to her true feelings for him, and they run away together for three months. At the end of these three months, however, Alfredo’s father shows up and tells Violetta that she must leave Alfredo, and that they can no longer be together. Violetta is heartbroken, but agrees, because she believes it to be in Alfredo’s best interests. After she does so, Alfredo finds her and causes her great harm out of jealousy and rage. And while she lies there, broken of heart and of body, she sings these words. She tells Alfredo that she did this all out of love, and that she not only forgives him of what he’s done, but she will love him until she dies, and beyond.

        It’s Moulin Rouge. Or, I suppose more accurately, Moulin Rouge is La Triviata…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvJpJl04cAI

It’s the same—down to the singing—and it is a beautiful story both ways.

        But, let’s be honest, this same kind of story has been told a thousand times.

In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth first refuses and spurns her love, but later, she repents and receives Mr. Darcy.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwrel&NR=1&v=DNZ5NXKtdxs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqidX_5ZsLg

Or in The Notebook, Ali comes from a wealthy family, and her parents don’t think Noah a suitable match, so they take her away, where she falls for another man, only returning to Noah when she realizes how deeply he still loves her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3G3fILPQAU 

        So why is this story so pervasive? What is it about this tale that is so universal? I suggest that it is because Violetta is a type of Christ.  She came from wealth—Christ from Heavenly Royalty. Violetta sacrificed everything and ultimately died because of what her beloved had done to her. Christ “suffered these things [the Atonement] for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent” (D&C 19:16), and, by His own people, was hung on a cross to die for sins He never committed. Violetta even begins to convalesce for a short time in the opera, where I saw a strong connection to Christ’s resurrection on the third day. Surely, Verdi did not do this by accident or coincidence. Surely, he meant Violetta to symbolize Christ’s charity for each of us.

        As imperfect beings, we hurt each other, and it seems most especially the ones we love. But if we are to become one with Christ and live as He did, truly we must LOVE as He did, being willing to sacrifice all for those we love—our families and friends, our neighbors, strangers on the street—even our enemies. For me, a strong example of this love is every person that serves in the military. They willingly and dutifully risk their lives to protect everyone in the nation—those they love, and those they despise, so that we may have the freedoms we enjoy today. I am so grateful, so blessed by their service to me… I feel forever indebted, with no way of ever repaying them. And so I send this out into the universe: Thank you, all of you that serve and have served in the military, for the sacrifices you have made on my behalf. They are not forgotten, nor are they wasted. You exemplify charity in your willingness to serve.

       In summary: true love is not selfish and, even when it hurts the giver, true love does not end.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfRyBE6KYqQ

(Fittingly enough, it’s in Italian—sorry, I couldn’t find it in English.)

Translation: Odette: Will you love me, Derek? –Until the day I die?

Derek: No, Odette, much longer. Much longer.

Candide Pt. 2: The Value of Work

“I have no more than twenty acres of ground, the whole of which I cultivate myself with the help of my children, and our labor keeps us from three great evils—boredom, vice, and want.”

                                  -Candide, Voltaire, 129

     There is a reason sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins—Idle hands, you know… And undoubtedly there is a certain satisfaction in a hard day’s work. I believe this is what the Turk is trying to convey here when he tells his guests of his way of life. The Turk clearly understands this principle, and he seems to harvest not only plentiful crops, but joy. It would appear that the fruit of his labor is much more than “citrons, oranges, lemons, pine-apples, pistachio-nuts, and Mocha coffee”—he reaps a loving, close-knit family, to which the passes values and wisdom—the same values and wisdom he possesses. And that fruit is sweeter than nectar.

     I had a professor once that oft quoted her own mother’s favorite saying: “Teach your children to work and they will always be of use in the Kingdom of God.” I find this striking in its simple truth. It might seem obvious—“Teach your children to work—why, of course!—but somehow we have become an entitlement generation—nay, an entitlement nation! Everybody wants something for nothing—they want a handout—a gimme… But I daresay the Turk’s children wouldn’t dane to consider such a thing! They understand that (and here I get on my political soapbox—for which I do not apologize!) “[w]hat one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving. The government cannot give to anybody anything that the government does not first take from somebody else. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them, and when the other half gets the idea that it does no good to work because somebody else is going to get what they work for, that my dear friend, is about the end of any nation. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it." (Dr. Adrian Rogers, emphasis added) They understand what much of America does not understand today: the value of work.

     (Now off of my soapbox and onto other things…) I think my greatest understanding of work came when I got pregnant with my first child. I had to wait, and, while I had very little control over it, for nine months my body worked to create a tiny baby. And when I went into labor (notice the word we use to describe the event…), my body worked harder than it ever had, preparing it and my baby for what was to happen next—the most wonderful and delicious fruit of any labor I could imagine—my beautiful, sweet, precious baby girl was born.

And I felt joy in the fruit of my labors, to be sure.

Candide Pt. 1: Reason in Everything

“‘It is demonstrable,’ said he, ‘that things cannot be otherwise than they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles; therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings; accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn and construct castles; therefore my lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten; therefore we eat pork all year round. And they who assert everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best.’”

                                                               -Candide, Voltaire, 12

Master Pangloss’s sentiment that everything that happens is for the best, and that we do things simply because it was “intended” and “designed” that we do so establishes an attitude that what happens in life is little more than destiny, and that our control over the circumstances surrounding us is limited to what was “made to be”.

From this, I glean that Pangloss means to argue that everything happens for a reason. And there are many that would agree with him. In times of distress and tribulation, this little phrase gets pulled out of our hope hats, and it provides some sort of comfort, some place of solace, some form of reason to the madness encompassing us.

That being said, having seen what I’ve seen in my life, having gone through what I have gone through, and having learned what I have learned, I cannot with faith and zeal profess that I believe everything happens for a reason. I cannot uphold that everything happens for a reason, because in so doing, I would surrender culpability luck—and I cannot believe that rape, child abuse, and drug addiction are nothing more than fate wielding her powers over us. There must be accountability, must be liability, must be justice. Instead of the eternal optimism Pangloss preaches, I fear I would lose all hope in the world if there was no answerability for all the anguish and pain we bequeath one another.

 Instead, I allege that it is our responsibility, and somehow at the same time our privilege, to find the reason in everything that happens. This may seem like I am simply restating the words in a different order, and that in so doing, they maintain the same meaning, but this is not what I mean to do. My meaning is very much different and distinct from the former assertion. My claim means to say that we are to look deeply into the conditions—good and bad—we find ourselves to be in and give them meaning—give them something so that we are bettered for having experienced them.

And so, in reading Pangloss’s words, I am amused at his absurdity and complete illogicality. I find beauty in their inaccuracy, because I am more fully convinced of my own convictions: everything does not happen for a reason, but I can find the reason for everything that happens.

Don Quixote Pt. 2: True Friends

“Whether it was owing to melancholy occasioned by the defeat he had suffered, or was simply, the will of Heaven which had so ordained it, he was taken with a fever that kept him in bed for a week, during which time his friends, the curate, the bachelor, and the barber, visited him frequently, while Sancho Panza, his faithful squire, never left his bedside.”

                                                                                                                                -Don Quixote, Cervantes, 2346

                Good friends are hard to find, to be sure. And truly, Don Quixote found one when he found Sancho Panza. Sancho stands by his friend loyally throughout the crazies that Don Quixote continually subjects him to. Don Quixote thinks himself a knight-errant, and pursues quests to prove himself true to that calling, not unlike an early Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story  in the fact that he thinks himself a Space Ranger, not, in fact, a toy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1PRT2GBjd8

But still, Sancho, and, later in the movie, Woody stick by their delusional comrades. A quote describing this very idea floating around Facebook for a minute a little while back says:

A good friend will come and bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting right next to you saying, ‘That was awesome!’

Early in the book, Don Quixote, it would seem that simple-minded Sancho knows no better than to follow the leader, so to speak, in knightly pursuits. But as the book comes to a close, we see Sancho overtake his master with wisdom. Still, he stands by his friend, until the very end, despite Don Quixote’s many failings. Cervantes narrates that in Don Quixote’s illness, his many friends visited (friends, that mind you did not seem to really care about Don Quixote as a person, but rather the amusement he provided in his insanity), but, in Sancho, he had one TRUE friend that did not leave his side. This bore a striking resemblance to Samwise Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings, especially in The Return of the King’s pivotal scene:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_NmCh42hZM

Frodo would not have survived—let alone succeeded—without the help of his truest friend. And I think the same is true for Don Quixote. Sancho served as a buffer to the madness consuming Don Quixote, almost protecting him from himself.

Just as Woody, Samwise, and Sancho, in good times and bad, true friends are there.

May we all find our own Sancho, and may we strive to be someone else’s: this is my charge.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4mNDS5rIRU&feature=related