RIP, Jaime Escalante, and God be good to you!

If a movie hadn't been made about this man's life, none of us may ever have heard of him. That would have been our loss.

The movie was Stand and Deliver. Some may find it memorable because Lou Diamond Phillips, among others, was thought to be reasonably hot. I found it memorable because my personal pantheon of heroes grew by one: the teacher, Jaime Escalante. There are parts of Escalante's story  that were left out, and they make him no less a hero to me.

Jaime Escalante was a Bolivian native, and he'd taught in Bolivia before he came to the States. He spoke little English when he got here. He took night classes for some years in order to be certified to teach in California. He taught math in a tough east L.A. high school. He got the radical idea that these kids he taught - hard, tough kids who'd been told all their lives about nothing but their limitations - could be taught math. Not plain, ordinary math - he started an AP calculus program at the school. His students did very well, indeed, and that tough school in a nasty, gang-infested neighborhood in Los Angeles was among the top performers in math in the country for years.Talk about a lasting impact!

So, RIP, Jaime, may God be good to you. Vaya con dios.

There's much that I took from that movie, from that life. For the last three years I was in a call center (actually, 3-1/2 years, counting the time I was with a group that was reevaluating and rewriting the training program) I was in a teaching function. I tried to not ever forget that, before you cam teach - calculus, customer service, credit policies, whatever - the first thing you can teach MUST be:

You. can. do. this. I have faith in you.

I thank all those who have taught, and are teaching this to me. I thank those who have come from abroad and taught it to their students; I'm thinking Jaime Escalante and Frank McCourt. I'm thinking of those who will be: my nephew William and my daughter Cheryl. Thanks to all!

So thank you, Jaime, for teaching. Thank you for a life well-lived. And thanks for teaching students the most important lesson of all:

You. can. do. this.

Holy Week - Palm Sunday

Today is Palm Sunday. It begins Holy Week, our observance of the events of the last week of Jesus' life on earth. On Palm Sunday we remember Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. We also are reminded of something in human nature that is far darker. As Jesus enters Jerusalem, great crowds are shouting "Hosanna!" On Good Friday great crowds shout at Pilate: "Crucify him!" I'm thinking that a lot of the people that were shouting "Hosanna!" were, less than a week later, in the same mob that shouted "Crucify him!" They may have been louder than anyone. And Jesus, from the cross: "Forgive them, Father. They know not what they do." True dat!

In The Brothers Karamazov, Dostoevsky presents the story of the Grand Inquisitor. In the story, Jesus has come back. He has resumed his interactions with the crowds. He has worked miracles, just as he had before. Again, authorities have him arrested. And, again, the verdict is that Jesus must die.The full story is much better than this summary.

The people in the biblical account did not know who Jesus was. His own disciples didn't know or understand fully who Jesus was. They couldn't have known until after the resurrection and the sending of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. It's worthy of note that Peter, that snivelling coward who denied Jesus three times, became a courageous ball of good news fire after the resurrection.

In Dostoevsky's account, Easter and Pentecost have long since passed. The authorities who have Jesus arrested and convicted are church authorities. They do know who Jesus is. But, they become convinced that Jesus must die.

If Jesus were to walk among us, even now - if he were to show by a new set of miracles the power he has, and if we were to shout "Hosanna" all over again - would we, also, be among the thundering herd: "Crucify him!!!" Do we seriously think human nature has changed so much?

I can't speak for you, of course. I have, most certainly and way too often, been holding the hammer that drove the nails in. And, I am so incredibly sorry. And then I do it again. At some point I can hope that my shouted "Hosanna" is not followed by my joining in the crucifixion.

Thanks for hanging out with me for a few!

My Ten Most Influential Books

I saw in the New York Times that some bloggers have presented lists of the "Ten Books That Most Influenced Me" or something like that. I now join the group presenting such lists. I'd love to know your thoughts on this list, and I'd really love to know what books would make your list.

A short time ago a dear friend answered a Facebook question about me. I think in some past life Susan and I must have been brother and sister. (OK, I don't believe in that past life stuff, but you know what I mean.) The question: Do you think Rick Crowell likes to read?" Her answer: "Wait - let me think". This was before she seriously started rolling on the floor. We do have our disagreements about things - but never, in my recollection, about literature.

Side note: I'm concerned about what the internet has done to reading habits. Neither Dostoyevsky, Joyce, nor Faulkner (to name only a few) come off very well in the written-sound-bite approach that seems to be the coming wave. All reward concentration and thought about what's written, and they only reward that.

Stipulation: I've made it very obvious in other blog posts how much my faith means to me. It's obvious that the Bible is #1. But, it would feel like cheating to say, "Well, first, there's the Gospel of Luke, then there's Galatians, and the Psalms and Ecclesiastes. . ." Books of the Bible do not appear on this list.

So, my list, in no particular order (and it took some thought to narrow this to ten):

Hemingway, The  Sun Also Rises. This was written before AA existed. The disease concept of alcoholism was not articulated until Dr. Jellinek did so in 1960. But this novel remains one of the best about the topic. It never mentions the word alcoholic. It just shows the behavior, with almost clinical accuracy. Hemingway's distinctive, very lean style, while it falls flat in other works of his, is pitch-perfect here.

Solzhenitsyn, A Day In the Life Of Ivan Denisovitch. I've read and appreciated much of Solzhenitsyn's work - August 1914, The First Circle, Cancer Ward, The Gulag Archipelago. I think A Day In the Life the best. It's also the shortest. If I were to recommend a work as a Solzhenitsyn starter this would be it. Solzhenitsyn survived Stalin's camps. When he was a soldier in the Red Army he'd committed the obviously grievous offense of referring to Stalin as "the mustached one."

Hopkins, Poems and Prose. Gerard Manley Hopkins was a Jesuit priest in the 19th century. I carry some of his words in memory: "Not, I'll not, carrion comfort despair, not feast on thee - not untwist, slack they may be, these last strands of man in me. . ." Hopkins can be difficult. He often uses archaic words, and he frequently restructures words and phrasing. But I have found him interesting. He's my favorite poet, with the possible exception of:

Shakespeare, King Lear. It's been said that comedy is the lower classes' vengeance on life, and tragedy is the upper classes' vengeance. What do you have if you have someone who is the best-ever tragedian, and whose comedy is every bit as well-done as his tragedy? You have a once-in-a-civilization genius: Shakespeare. Lear is by far the darkest of his tragedies. Acting the role of Lear  most definitely separates the actors from the hacks.

Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship. Karl Barth was a Swiss theologian who taught in a German university in the 1930s. He left that university to go to Switzerland. Switzerland was home, but he had another reason. He could not work where he had to start lectures about the Prince of Peace by saying, "Heil Hitler!" Bonhoeffer also was no fan of Hitler's, but he decided to stay in Germany. His earthly reward? Death by hanging, just weeks before the war ended. If you never read anything else about faith, you must read Chapter 1, "Costly Grace".

Thomas Merton, A Thomas Merton Reader. Merton is one of my heroes in the faith, and my thinking about war and peace almost exactly echoes his. (Yes, the influence was direct.) I'm cheating by using a reader. Most would start on Merton with The Seven Storey Mountain. But, his attitudes and thoughts changed with time - some of the positions he took in The Seven Storey Mountain would not reflect his later opinions - and you can see that with a number of his works together.

Nuland, How We Die. Now, isn't THAT morbid of me? Not really. Nuland, a long-time physician, describes in some detail some death scenes. But his underlying message, articulated at the end, strongly resonated. Your body insists on fighting against death until it can't fight it any more, so death is not pretty, and a "dignified" death is rare. The dignity comes, not from the death you die, but from the life you live.


Dostoevsky, The Possessed. If I put this list together on a different day, The Brothers Karamazov might be in this spot. Or Crime and Punishment. Or The Idiot. If you like Solzhenitsyn, you'll love Dostoevsky. But if you're one of those short-form-only readers who doesn't want to think about what you're reading, please skip this author. You'll never get him. The Possessed - usually called The Devils - paints an unflattering portrait of political radicals in 19th-century Russia. You'll understand this work better if you read up on the radical Russian movements of that time.

Joyce, Ulysses. On my bucket list: before I die I want to spend one Bloomsday in Dublin.  (That's a hint, family! Bloomsday is June 16.) (I also want to see Rowan Oak, Faulkner's place in Oxford MS). A difficult read, but a rewarding and at times hilarious one. The entire novel is set on June 16, 1904. Also won't reward Twitter readers, and they'd be cheating themselves by not making an effort.

Wiesel, Night. Elie Wiesel survived the Nazi concentration camps, and he is living refutation to Holocaust deniers. Not a work for weak stomachs. Some scenes that are almost unbearable: the hanging of a 10-year-old. Wiesel being in the same bunk house as his father and finding out that his father had passed during the night by looking into his father's bunk and finding someone else there. The message I took: Never Again. This is a great portrayal of what happens when a group of human beings has absolute, unfettered control over any other group of human beings. The pre-Civil-War South offers another example. Sadly, examples abound everywhere.

Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451. Written in the '40s or '50s. Bradbury describes a society where people can put cards into little machines to get their money. Gee. . .I think we've seen this. It also describes a society in which people are expected to not read, to not think. Fahrenheit 451 is the flash point of paper. There are book burnings, but as is explained, these are just for show. The prevention of reading actually takes place by those TV screens in every house. If you entertain people into an intellectually comatose state, you need not fear the result of thinking. (Gee - I think we've seen this. . .)

Wait - was that 11? Sorry!

Thanks for hanging out with me for a few!

The Power of Addiction

It's difficult to pin down what's meant by "addiction". Where, exactly, is that fuzzy, ill-defined line between heavy use and addiction? Professionals in the field discuss terms like "increased tolerance", "dependence", but the underlying question - where's that line? - remains hard to answer.

A lot of definitions include something like "continued or escalating use of a substance or process in the face of negative consequences." We know that we're hurting ourselves - killing ourselves - ruining our families and our careers. We know that every time we use the booze - the crack - the tobacco - we're placing ourselves and someone else in danger. We do it anyway. AA's definition of insanity - repeating the same action, expecting a different result.

We know we're driving too fast. We know there's a stone wall in front of us. We push the accelerator.

The form of addiction with which I'm painfully familiar is alcoholism. That phrase, "In the face of negative consequences" has implications:

It doesn't matter how much you drink. That's just an accident of how much your body handles. People who are edging toward the end often find that their tolerance breaks down, and two beers will knock them flat.

It doesn't matter what you drink - wine, harder liquor, beer. NyQuil (once popular among teens), after shave (if your significant other has hidden the booze). That's just an excuse, or an accident of what's available. In the maximum security prison I worked at, something called Hooch was really popular. Take some juice (usually orange), throw some bread crumbs in, seal it and let it ferment. The stuff will blind you. But if you're an addict. . .

It doesn't matter where you drink. That's only geography.

The question that matters - the questions that addicts have a terrible time answering honestly, is: What's happening to your life when you're drinking? or smoking?

So your family's in trouble. Your 14-year-old daughter has called your job again to advise you won't be in. Said 14-year-old then feeds her siblings and makes sure they get to school. All this because you're lying in a pool of vomit in your bed, or on the floor.How long do you think it will be before the 14-year-old breaks down? This should not be the life of an early teen. (Family studies are a very important field in the study and treatment of addiction. There's little point in treating someone, getting them off of whatever stuff they used, then sending them right back to the same setting.)

So you've lost a job. You've lost them before. You'll get another. But, they're not out there like they used to be, or maybe word's gotten around, and your inability to find work is a great excuse for a drink.Or a drunk.

So your kid's asthmatic. Addiction involves some form of rationalization, so you can rationalize doing anything - smoke in a different part of the house, smoking outside - you do anything EXCEPT the one thing that might matter - quit.

Meth addicts tend to forget they have kids.The kids don't get fed, they don't get cleaned up, diapers don't get changed. Mom and Dad seem to be on a permanent sleep-in.

Is marijuana addicting? "Process addiction" is a topic for another time.

By the way, is there such a thing as a GOOD addiction? My answer: a firm, unwavering, almost shouted NO!!!! Not jogging or exercise. Not eating salad for lunch every day. As habits - great. As addictions - awful.

Addiction can be a depressing topic, so when I write about it I want to put the word of hope at the end. There IS hope, there IS help. My last drink: 12/7/85. No praise to me. All praise to my Higher Power.

If you're caught up, get help. If you know someone who is in the trap, explore how to get them help. Don't stand by while someone points a loaded .357 into their own mouth.

Thanks for spending  a few with me!

Put that rock down!

I am exploring the possibility of becoming an Oblate of the Order of St. Benedict. Part of the process is attendance at meetings at their monastery in Rock Island. It's a beautiful place. The ravines, the woods, the pond, the beauty of the buildings make it easy to forget that it's within city limits. The drive to get there is nice too: woodsy and marshy, it looks largely unspoiled. Except for that eyesore called Jumer's.

During yesterday's meeting we read, prayed over, and discussed the story of the woman caught in adultery. It's in John 8:1-11, and the story is told there far better than I could ever tell it. If you're not familiar, please stop reading my stuff and read that story now. I'll wait.

{pause. waiting.} Thank you!

That was also the Gospel reading for Mass this weekend. The incident provokes thought on many levels.

A woman "caught in the very act of adultery" was brought before Jesus. He's told that Moses "commanded us to stone such women." Such women? Really? Moses' law called for both adulterers to be stoned, not just the woman (Deut. 22:22). If she was caught in the very act didn't they catch the man, too? So, where was the man caught in adultery?

In the time and place, this would have been seen as not so much a sexual violation as a property violation. A wife had no rights independent of her husband. She was his property. It's hard to realize now how radical Jesus was in this regard. Jesus treated women with respect. He treated women as equals to men. So, for him, this was no piece of property before him. This was a human being - no doubt humiliated, frightened, and having the worst day of her entire life - a human being, with all the human dimensions.

So, Jesus writes on the ground. The Gospel writer did not think it important to record exactly what Jesus wrote. I don't know about you, but I'd love to know.

And Jesus says, "Let the execution begin! Only - let it begin with the first stone being cast by the one among you who is without sin."

And so, one by one, confronted with their own conscience (and maybe confronted with what Jesus had written on the ground), all put down their stones and leave, until she is alone with Jesus. "Woman, is no one left to accuse you?" We imagine the shocked, surprised look around before the response: "No one, sir."

And then Jesus does not say, "Well, then: carry on!" He says, "Go your way, and from now on do not sin again."

Who would I have been in this story? It's easy to be one who carries stones around, ready to cast them at all who need correction. It's so much fun to say, "You need to learn the meaning of. . ." But Jesus confronts precisely that attitude. The only thing I can say is, "I need to learn the meaning of. . ." My faith means everything to me, and in this story Jesus takes away any permission I'd ever thought I had to use my faith as a club.

Now I have some stones to get rid of. Thanks for spending a few with me!

Credo

I have been following a blog called Thoughts From the High Road, by Lauren Schieffer. Lauren is a friend of a dear friend. I have found Lauren's blog enjoyable. It has helped me pick up my attitude and, on occasion, shone a bright light on those attitudes. I recommend her blog to you.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen.

Thus begins the Nicene Creed, which we recite at Mass every Sunday. I would hope this never becomes mere rote recitation for me. Theological history tells us that every line in the Creed was a point of controversy at some time. Every doctrinal position in the Creed was fought about, and on occasion, bled over. Nothing came easy. One definition of the word "heretic" is, "the guy who lost the argument."

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen.

I do believe. There seems a great divide between those who adhere to one faith position - atheism - and another faith position - belief in a higher power. Make no mistake: atheism is a faith, just as are Christianity, Islam, Judaism. Atheism is a faith that there is nothing larger than us. Atheism has no more proof of its correctness than do the other belief systems. Moses and Isaiah record having seen G-d. Mary Magdalene and Peter saw the risen Christ. I have a hard time imagining anyone saying that they looked everywhere there is to look, and "By gosh by golly, I saw no God, so there couldn't be one."

So, one claims that the existence of evil in human beings is proof that there's no God. The line of logic doesn't work, because it can't exclude the obverse. If the life of Hitler and Stalin and Idi Amin - of Timothy McVeigh, of the Unabomber and Osama bin Laden - are proof that there's no God, cannot the life of a Mother Theresa, of Teresa of Avila, of Roncalli and Bernardin and Merton and St. Vincent de Paul - prove that there is one? There is evil. There is also good.

So, the preponderance of scientific evidence supports evolution? In fact, if you've ever used antibacterial soap, natural selection occurs right on your skin. I believe evolution occurred and is ongoing. I also believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. Belief or nonbelief is not subject to scientific proof, because a control experiment is impossible.

So the statement that there is no God is a statement of a faith. So is my position. Step 2 for AA's: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

I do believe. Credo!

A Tip of the Hat From Mr. K

Last Friday, Charles Krauthammer, in his Washington Post column, had some kind observations to make about the Obama administration. Wow.

To understand how unexpected this was, understand that Krauthammer has been little more than a part of the Republican spin machine for years. During the entire Bush 43 administration, you'd have been hard-pressed to find a critical word from Krauthammer about any administration policy.

By the way, about that "liberal bias" that the Post is supposed to have: they carry George Will, Charles Krauthammer, and Kathleen Parker in their editorial pages. You really have to do some redefining to make THAT into a liberal stew. What is usually meant by "That paper is biased against us!" is "That paper lets the other side have space too, and we don't like it!"

Krauthammer observed that a rotation of power between the parties is a frequent occurrence in American history, and that this is a good thing. It allowed consolidation of New Deal gains by Republicans in the Eisenhower administration. The Reagan policies were brought to fruition, not by the first Bush administration, but by the Clinton administration.

Krauthammer does not change his own conservative position on any issue, but on health care he notes, "it's hard to recall a more informed, more detailed, more serious, more prolonged national debate than on health care reform." Clinton couldn't keep the debate going. Bush had no interest. Obama - the master facilitator - has kept up the discussion as no one else could.

On Reagan's policies, he notes that Obama presents a serious challenge, but also: "The Reaganite dispensation of low taxes, less regulation and reliance on markets should be challenged, lest it become merely rote and dogmatic." Amen! Too often I see politicians and wonder if their understanding has any depth beyond their 3x5 cards. When you hear Cantor, McConnell and Boehner using not only the same thoughts, but the exact same phrases, you wonder if anything at all is going on in their own heads.

Although Krauthammer is on the other side from me on almost any issue this column is worth a read, and I gained some respect for Krauthammer's work that I hadn't had before. Read it.

When I started blogging I made a commitment to myself that I'd write something midweek - usually Wednesdays - and on Sundays. Today is Wednesday, but I've been distracted the past couple of days. My son-in-law is on a plane. He's being deployed to Afghanistan.

To say my feelings are mixed would be an understatement. They're a whirlwind. The relationship between Chris and I has had its rocky spots; my daughters would tell you I'm not one to buddy up to a son-in-law. Our relationship has become stronger over time, so my heart and mind are with him a lot, and at the top of my prayer list is the prayer that he may come home physically and mentally intact. He is, after all, Daddy to four of our grandkids.

And I take great pride in his service, as I took great pride in my own. I am a Vietnam-era Navy vet. I never saw the 'Nam. I cry no sad tears for that. I was a destroyer sailor.

On the larger issue of war and peace, I have become a semi-pacifist. Those familiar with Thomas Merton will recognize the influence. There are some wars that must be fought, I guess. The evil of the Nazis had to be destroyed. However, I can think of few wars that, if traced back to their origins, made any sense at all. To what extent was the rise of the Nazi party attributable to the vindictive terms at the end of the first war? To what extent was THAT war attributable to the more vindictive terms of the Franco-Prussian wars in the 1870s, and to what extent was THAT. . .Somewhere it just stops making sense at all.

So, a prayer for Chris, and for those who are pray-ers, we'd sure appreciate yours, too.

Today was the third Sunday in Lent. The word "lent" comes from a word meaning "spring". For Catholics, and for most other Christians, it's a time of intensified prayer, reflection, repentance, charity. If someone is to make confession only once in a year, that one time is most likely to be during Lent. Often, parishes will have communal reconciliation services (think of "reconciliation" as synonymous with "confession" for this purpose), and thereon hangs today's tale.

Some years ago we went to a communal reconciliation at The Church of the Nativity in Dubuque, Iowa. We had our daughters with. A communal reconciliation starts with the community singing a hymn, with some prayer and a few remarks by a priest. Then, the priests (some will have come from other parishes to help with this) scatter to different parts of the chapel to hear individual confessions.

We went through the opening, and the time for confessions started. Our third daughter, Kim, was one of the first ones to visit one of the priests, Father Mark. A few minutes into her confession Fr. Mark looked up, and looked over at us. More confession, and again, Fr. Mark looked at us. Cindy and I started to wonder what she was saying that directed Father's attention to us like that. We got our answer when Kim was done.

She advised us that she'd confessed OUR sins. I guess she wanted to save us the trouble.

No wonder she took so long!

A story I heard from the late Father Anthony Farrell, God be good to him: A parish pastor in New York announced that, for a communal penance service, he had four priests to assist with confessions. They were all freshly arrived in this country from Vietnam, and none of them spoke a word of English.

The line outside the parish for confession circled the block.

I'm now putting together my list of things for confession. Yes, it'll be a communal service, probably the one at St. Anthony's. No, I won't take Kim with. And, I do expect that the priest will speak English.

Drat!

Memory

I'm Rick. I'm a gratefully recovering alcoholic.

I think the blackouts were the scariest. There was other stuff, but - the blackouts. Yeah, definitely the blackouts.

A blackout isn't when you're passed out on the floor. That's just - passed out on the floor. Someone who is in a blackout is walking, talking, functioning, joking, singing, whatever. It's the memory that's blacked out - whatever it is you do, you retain no memory of it.

A blackout? That's when a guy wakes up in a jail cell, having no clue what he's there for, because he remembers nothing after the first couple of drinks. He goes to his arraignment, maybe expecting something like "DWI", "OWI" "DUI" or whatever the term is in that place. Instead he hears "vehicular homicide." Wait - that means I. . .??? It's difficult to defend yourself against a charge when you remember nothing about the incident. And, intoxication is not a mitigating factor in most crimes. It's an aggravating factor. (This wasn't me.)

A blackout? That's when a woman wakes up in a bed she's never been in. She looks around at a room she's never seen. She's naked, as is the guy sleeping next to her - a guy she doesn't know. She makes a frantic call to a friend: "Did I do something stupid last night" "Oh, man, you don't remember?" Well, no.

I'm Rick. I'm a gratefully recovering alcoholic. My last drink was December 7, 1985. But, I've only been sober since I woke up at 5:45 this morning.

A blackout? That's when a guy wakes up in the back of the station wagon he now calls home. He remembers drinking two beers. He's shocked to find out he went through a case. He has no clue how he got into the back of his car, but if he ever finds out who got him there he's going to have to say thanks, because when he woke up it was raining. Hard. It's a hard rain gonna fall.

That last one was me.

I'm sticking to writing what I know. Alcoholism and addiction, I know much better than I ever wanted to. The fortunate thing, maybe, is that it equipped me to talk with others about this, and maybe, just maybe, make someone else's life better. It won't be a topic of every blog, but it will come up now and again. I know what my depths were. I know what my recovery is, and I thank God daily for it.

The only drink you know you have control over is the first one you ever have. After that, you may find that a lot of your choices are made for you.