Marcus' World

Easter Sunday Revisited

I'm always appreciative of Helen's sympathetic view of the world. This is evident in her response to my last message, in which she defends the Christian point of view as logical, even though she is an atheist who does not support it herself. 

Helen was gracious, while I was blunt and offensive. I agree that Christianity "makes sense"--Thousands of years of Christian theology have tightened up the intellectual foundations of the faith.

But in the end you must believe that it is the only valid spiritual path, even though we live in a world of tremendous diversity in every other dimension. This is the belief I do not support.

Easter Sunday

Today is Easter Sunday, one of the few days each year when I reacquaint myself with the Christian faith.  I attended a service this morning at the Church of the Holy Trinity, which is conveniently located just a block away.  Our friend Jason was in town for the weekend, and tagged along.  Helen is firm in her atheism, so she stayed behind.

I grew up in a conservative Christian church, and continued my dogmatic ways as I began college.  But after four years of living among people of various faiths, I could no longer accept the idea that only the Christians were on the path to salvation. So I abandoned my church commitments.

I do miss the preaching and singing, however, which is why I use the holidays as an excuse to  check out a new church.  I wish it were possible to "take what I want and leave the rest," as Mom advised me to do. But the reality is that it's all of a piece, which means that the uplifting ceremony supports beliefs that make no sense. 

More liberal churches try to have it both ways, with a mushy theology that doesn't say much.  Take it or leave it, I say.  And right now I'm happy to leave it.

Schiavo Saga Continues

This week began with a disgraceful intervention by Congress into a painful family tragedy, in the wee hours of Monday morning.  Since then four successive court decisions have emphasized the fact that Congress overstepped its bounds.  In the end, our system has worked.   

At this point Governor Bush is relying on the word of an ideologically driven physician who practices medicine-by-videotape, Dr William P. Cheshire Jr.  After 15 years, he has come forward to say that Ms. Schiavo is minimally conscious, not in a persistent vegatative state. Where was he when her court appointed guardian tried desperately--in person--to find signs of cognition? Nowhere to be found.

It is essential that we empathize with the Schindlers even as we oppose their legal efforts; there is no doubt that they believe that their daughter could return to normal at any minute.  This week I've thought, "Why doesn't her husband just sign over his guardian rights?  Obviously they are willing to take this on."

But then I have to remember that it is not my decision, and certainly not a decision for Congress.  In a more humane world I would not be an interloper into such a private family matter. 

New York Centric

One of the highlights of my birthday weekend was Helen's gift: a large print of the 1976 New Yorker cover in which Saul Steinberg is rather, um...Manhattan-centric.  It's a westward looking scene, in which 9th and 10th Avenue are in more detail than China, Russia, and Japan.  I love it!

Helen is driven crazy by my excessive attachment to New York, which is ridiculous for someone who just moved here.  But even so she managed to find the perfect birthday gift.

Birthday Weekend

Last Friday was my birthday, and my dad, uncle, and aunt came to New York City for the first time.  This is usually a shock for people coming from Ohio.  People from home prefer Chicago, where we went to college.  Chicago is a big city, of course, but it is still on a recognizable scale.  New York is a land unto itself.

We had a lot of fun nevertheless.  New visitors give you another chance to play New York tourist.  We ate in Times Square; walked through Central Park; ventured to the Empire State Building (although I talked them out of going to the top); and took the Staten Island Ferry.  Uncle Art was content to take pictures with his camera phone every step of the way. 

Helen and I may keep on gallivanting around the world; only time will tell.  One enjoyable aspect of this lifestyle is that many people we know have an opportunity to visit cities that they would never see otherwise.

Terri Schiavo

A new level of political farce has descended upon Washington, as the GOP aims to reassure its base that they are right with God.  Meanwhile, Democrats scared about all that talk of "moral values" last November have been very timid.

Today the House and Senate are returning from recess to promote a federal law that pertains to one citizen out of 290,000,000.  (This is after subpoenas of the comatose Schiavo and talk of holding a Congressional hearing in her hospice room.) President Bush plans to return from Texas to sign the bill tomorrow, riding in on the steed of Jesus to rescue our callous culture.  The only hope is for a brave Democrat to call this shameful farce for what it is: Heartless political exploitation of a family tragedy.

If Helen or I are ever in a permanent vegetative state, our New York residence will come in handy.  Rick Santorum and Tom Delay will be happy to just let us die.

Ways to Help Darfur

I never know how much to say about the ongoing genocide in Darfur.  It's a heavy topic, and one of many that can leave people depressed and without a sense of how to respond.

So today I want to promote the work of two amazing organizations that have figured out what to do.  The Genocide Intervention Fund is raising money to bring additional African Union peacekeepers to Darfur.  And the Save Darfur coalition provides a convenient and comprehensive forum for education and activism about the crisis. 

Although the necessity for such groups boggles the mind, their existence makes me remember how caring most people are.

March is for Birthdays

My step-father's birthday is coming up, followed by mine a few days later.  Already, a close librarian friend has had a birthday.  My brother's birthday is late this month, and two other friends are also completing one more trip around the sun.

It's easy to do the math--If March is for birthing, then June is for loving.  Beyond that powerful observation, I'm thinking this year about how wildly adults diverge in their approach to birthdays.

Birthday parties are customary for children,  if not obligatory.  Go to any card shop, and there are colorful cards for every single year that the precious little one soldiers on.  By the time you're an adult, greeting cards are either saccharine (woman to woman); sheepish (man to woman); dirty (man to man); or wistfully longing for youth (everyone).

But whatever cards you give and receive, what's fascinating is the different approaches people take to their special day.  Some people make sure that you know about it, and look forward to a big bash.  This must be the group that had the most fun when they were kids.  I attempt to be discreet, but always let the date slip anyway.  And some people guard their birth date very closely. 

I often imagine throwing big parties for people I know who reach "milestones," but eventually realize that it's my definition of a milestone rather than theirs.  So the birthday rolls by like normal, leaving me with a twinge of sadness at this small mark of childhood's passing.

The Blogosphere

It's time for a bit of reflection in Marcus' World.   For  many months I  delayed starting a blog, as they crept  ever more into my reading orbit.   They were never close to my absorption in the mainstream media--or MSM, in blog-ese--but did gain some traction.   Eventually I hit a tipping point, and decided, "What the hell? Time to write a blog."

I'm enjoying it, and it's always fun to get comments.  My effort is modest--It's mostly a diary, with some current events and political commentary thrown in.  I have no intention of taking down the MSM.

But lots of my fellows bloggers do, from all across the political spectrum.  A major right-wing victory so far is the early departure of Dan Rather from CBS News, following an inaccurate report about President Bush' military service.   (Of course, voluminous additional documentation does prove that Texas Strut shirked his duty.)  And left wingers can crow about exposing the sham journalism of one Jeff Gannon/Guckert.

In theory, it's good to have another means of holding the media accountable.  But in reality, political blogging often becomes a digital feeding frenzy.  And there is no way to restrain this "fifth estate," except for writing ever more incendiary blogs.

I have no idea of the solution to this conundrum; it's probably unresolvable.  As for me and my house, we will read the New York Times.

Amateur Night at the Apollo

The most famous Harlem landmark is the Apollo Theater on 125th Street.  When I accompanied my Mom's school students to New York in 1996, we took a bus trip from Chinatown to Harlem.  The drop-off point was a market across from the Apollo.  Since then I've always wanted to attend a show there.

Tonight we had our chance, because Helen and I went with our friends Matt and Jill to see "Amateur Night at the Apollo."  Of course, this is the show where it's OK to boo boisterously if you're not pleased with the performance.  It takes a thick skin to perform at Amateur Night, so I was very happy to be part of the audience.

The host was a superb comic named Drew Frazier; listening to his jokes was the highlight of the night.  The performances got off to a rocky start, with all of the first performers dismissed in a colorful fashion.  After intermission the quality improved, culminating in a wonderful finale.  A young man named Malik--dressed in a perfect creamy yellow suit and shiny white shoes--belted out an impassioned version of Sam Cooke's "Change is Gonna Come."  And then we all clapped him to victory as tonight's winner of Amateur Night.

As we learned tonight, Gladys Knight and the Pips got their start by winning Amateur Night at  the Apollo.   So who knows?  Malik may well be the next pop sensation.