So I suppose everyone has already heard the "news" (at least, it's been covered on news channels): Paris Hilton is out of jail and on house arrest for 40 days. So, party at Paris' house! Whoo!
I am glad Paris Hilton is just one person. Although around some people, I worry she might be an epidemic.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
The Democracy of Grass
Welcome to my blog. This is my first post. Like most of America, I do most of my deepest thinking while taking showers and cutting grass. Fortunately for me, this summer I am working for the grounds crew where I attend school, so I get to do a lot of grass cutting and consequently, a lot of deep thinking. One may argue, even too much deep thinking.
Today I was thinking about a book I recently "read". I say "read" in quotes because actually I listened to it on my iPod while I was, if you can believe it, cutting grass. It's a book by Garrison Keillor called Homegrown Democrat, but that's really not all that important. What I was thinking about was the way Keillor opens his book with the claim that nobody is special. At first I was a little taken aback by this claim because, as child of the 80s, I've been told my entire life that I am special. That I am unique and beautiful and wonderful and "you don't have to listen to anybody if you don't want to, because you're your own person and nobody can take that away from you", just like everyone else is.
Of course, upon deeper examination, it is a mathematical impossibility that everyone is special. If everyone truly were special, then special would be the new norm and the truly unique people would be what used to be considered normal. But then everyone in the infinite pursuit of uniqueness through conformity would chase after the old norm (which had become the new "special") and I suppose it would continue like that until the end of time. Now don't hear me saying that I don't believe in Imago Dei, that all mankind is created in the image of God. I do believe that and if that's what we mean by "special" and "unique" then by all means we are. But the thing with being made in the image of God is that so is everybody else, so don't get a big head about it, because it doesn't make you any better than anyone else.
And maybe that's the real issue, is that when we're told that we're "special", we start to believe that we alone are special. That no one else can bring to the table what we bring. And, come to think of it, where would the world be without us? Who would fill the Ben shaped whole in the universe if I weren't here? How would the people I know function and get on without me? They need me. Who could ever laugh if I wasn't there to make jokes? Who could ever sing if I wasn't there to write songs? Of course I exaggerate for effect here (hyperbole for all you English majors), but I must admit sometimes my own pride can get this bizarre in logic.
And I think that's why I'm here this summer: cutting grass, missing my family and girlfriend in Houston, thinking about the internships I could have taken if I had been more ambitious, thinking about the college degree I just earned that is, for all intents and purposes, going to waste this summer while I work a low income job with no benefits (other than a bodacious farmer's tan and two dozen mosquito bites). This is part of my education. Even though my degree is already completed, I'm learning things that were never taught in the classroom. I'm learning that even though I'm going in graduate school with plans to enter full time ministry, when the grass grows outside, I'm not so good that I can't cut it. That even as a white, upper-middle class citizen with above average grades, I'm not so good that I can't work for a hispanic male, lower-income, lower-level education.
And that's who is really taking me to school. I've never been, but I'd put a week of working for Gilbert up against any week long service-leadership conference. Because even when he's working this job and another, essentially working every weekday from 7 am to 11 pm; he's still concerned about whether I'm drinking enough water. And even though the man can mow circles around me all day long and never get tired, and his worst effort looks better than my best, he still buys me a soda for working so hard in the hot sun, and tells me to "take it easy" for the last hour and find some shade. Even though he never got a chance at upper-level education, he's working his tail off to make sure his two 13 year old twins get a shot at it. Planning on at least another five years to make the employee discount. He's living life the best he can. But he would never tell you that he's special or unique for doing it, he's just doing it. And come to think of it, I'm not sure I'm so special either.
Today I was thinking about a book I recently "read". I say "read" in quotes because actually I listened to it on my iPod while I was, if you can believe it, cutting grass. It's a book by Garrison Keillor called Homegrown Democrat, but that's really not all that important. What I was thinking about was the way Keillor opens his book with the claim that nobody is special. At first I was a little taken aback by this claim because, as child of the 80s, I've been told my entire life that I am special. That I am unique and beautiful and wonderful and "you don't have to listen to anybody if you don't want to, because you're your own person and nobody can take that away from you", just like everyone else is.
Of course, upon deeper examination, it is a mathematical impossibility that everyone is special. If everyone truly were special, then special would be the new norm and the truly unique people would be what used to be considered normal. But then everyone in the infinite pursuit of uniqueness through conformity would chase after the old norm (which had become the new "special") and I suppose it would continue like that until the end of time. Now don't hear me saying that I don't believe in Imago Dei, that all mankind is created in the image of God. I do believe that and if that's what we mean by "special" and "unique" then by all means we are. But the thing with being made in the image of God is that so is everybody else, so don't get a big head about it, because it doesn't make you any better than anyone else.
And maybe that's the real issue, is that when we're told that we're "special", we start to believe that we alone are special. That no one else can bring to the table what we bring. And, come to think of it, where would the world be without us? Who would fill the Ben shaped whole in the universe if I weren't here? How would the people I know function and get on without me? They need me. Who could ever laugh if I wasn't there to make jokes? Who could ever sing if I wasn't there to write songs? Of course I exaggerate for effect here (hyperbole for all you English majors), but I must admit sometimes my own pride can get this bizarre in logic.
And I think that's why I'm here this summer: cutting grass, missing my family and girlfriend in Houston, thinking about the internships I could have taken if I had been more ambitious, thinking about the college degree I just earned that is, for all intents and purposes, going to waste this summer while I work a low income job with no benefits (other than a bodacious farmer's tan and two dozen mosquito bites). This is part of my education. Even though my degree is already completed, I'm learning things that were never taught in the classroom. I'm learning that even though I'm going in graduate school with plans to enter full time ministry, when the grass grows outside, I'm not so good that I can't cut it. That even as a white, upper-middle class citizen with above average grades, I'm not so good that I can't work for a hispanic male, lower-income, lower-level education.
And that's who is really taking me to school. I've never been, but I'd put a week of working for Gilbert up against any week long service-leadership conference. Because even when he's working this job and another, essentially working every weekday from 7 am to 11 pm; he's still concerned about whether I'm drinking enough water. And even though the man can mow circles around me all day long and never get tired, and his worst effort looks better than my best, he still buys me a soda for working so hard in the hot sun, and tells me to "take it easy" for the last hour and find some shade. Even though he never got a chance at upper-level education, he's working his tail off to make sure his two 13 year old twins get a shot at it. Planning on at least another five years to make the employee discount. He's living life the best he can. But he would never tell you that he's special or unique for doing it, he's just doing it. And come to think of it, I'm not sure I'm so special either.
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