A Novel Approach

I should be clear that this post may have most interest for those who enjoy literature. Come to think of it, lovers of history might also find it tolerable. Others will likely be unimpressed. Just thought I would warn you. From here on its everyone for herself.

The book is Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope. I confess I should have read it years ago. Since it wasn't specifically assigned in one of those Lit courses at Hesston College or Goshen College I just let it slide by. Such inattention was my loss. I suppose another reason I neglected Trollope as an author is that one of his contemporaries was Dickens whose novels you would have to say are more compelling in that Dickens writes about a level of society that is more earthy and the social issues he exposes are more stirring.

Trollope is called a democratic realist. The rapid scientific developments of the day has shifted attention toward the individual as a rational, responsible person with awareness of possibilities and potential. The author therefore writes with the knowledge that his audience is expanding and a growing interest and curiosity. Growing out of the puritan and reforming spirit of the eara he writes not only to entertain but to expose.

Both Trollope and Dickens were mid-Victorian. Even the name of that era can be off-putting in that, from this distance, it reeks of pretentiousness and straight laced pomposity. And, to be sure all that is there in abundance. But beneath the surface of the pretense and form there is the human spirit experiencing all the glory and pathos of life that is real and hopeful.

In Barchester Towers, which is a cathedral city in England the 1850s, Trollope explores the lives of Anglican clergy, their wives, friends and competitors as they deal with the death of the bishop. That very normal event sets in play a whole range of emotions, strategy and reactions that builds to a wonderful resolution.


But as the plot or plots unfold, I recognized three themes taken from the Victorian age that were of particular interest to me, the role of the clergy in the Church of England, gender relationships and the pervasiveness of class in many areas of life.



The Church of England and the Clergy

The devastating earlier religious wars were over although competing movements still were abroad. There were reform movements that challenged the church leaders to keep the populace faithful and the powers that be happy. There was an underlying concern that the vicars and deacons be orthodox and educated in the right schools. However with the positions in the church also went money, power and prestige. So angling for choice appointments and impressing the right people were games played with energy and skill.

With higher positions went the advantages that resulted in lavish lifestyles without commencerate responsibility so that democratic reform was not always met with enthusiasm. A vicar who found himself in line for a new appointment might informed that with the new position went a mandate to begin a Sunday school and other increased responsibilities might think twice about the need to adjust his priorities.

Gender Relationships

The very specific ways of relating between the sexes that were part of the very fabric of society were under pressure by the democratic reforms. But while there might be hints of a leveling of the old rules, the forms and formality that prevailed earlier still were firm. Nevertheless, even while adhering to the formalities ways were found to gain one's purpose. It must be said that the manuvering and subtle ways of gaining one's ends increases the complexity of plots.

Interestingly, Trollope, as well as other Victorian authors were very aware of the reader and in order to be sure to be understood and catch on the subtility of the action sometimes took time out to address the reader directly. The author describes the qualities of the character as well as his intention so that the reader misses nothing of the implications of the particular action. It can become tedious with us who are impatient to move the plot along and get to the heavy stuff. In this novel these asides to the reader seem especially necessary when it comes to the interaction of men and women when the formalities of society keep them from communicating freely.

Where such stiff rules prevail there are always those who find ways to overcome their disadvantage and win their ends. Thus Trollope places almost at the center of his plot just such a scheming woman who proves to be one of the most powerful people in the novel. But like a number of his characters the reader both loaths and cheers these people who are at the same time both manipulative and heroic. In any case the travails of men and women trying to overcome barriers and find fulfillment are at the center of this movel.

Class

Always there is class. Even among the clergy there are those who are at the top and those who are forced to take what is left. In one case there is the poor vicar who is in a small parish with a very small stipend who struggles to make ends meet in supporting a wife and fourteen children.

Outside the clergy the distictions are more marked. In events that are arranged to accomodate the whole population, they are to be entertained in different areas. It is a horrible mistake if one finds themselves in the wrong place. A host or hostess goes through great agony if there is uncertainty as to where one belongs. For example, a gentleman farmer may be judged to be a person of means and yet at the same time have a low occupation. The wife especially will be considered out of place in either.

One also must dress to fit the category to which he is assigned or in the place she appears. Thus poor people with shabby clothing or a very limited wardrobe don't have a chance to be acceptable almost anywhere. There vocabulary also sets them apart as being more crude and uneducated.

In these ways and others Trollope exposes the times in which he lives. But what he has done is to vividly describe the human condition in a period of time that proves to be commentary on every age and every era. The rules have changed and the setting is different but the same ambitions, desires and habits are present in each. In typically victorian fashion Trollope has the good people win and they prsumably live happily ever after but the trials they face and the barriers they surmount are the same. The same question hangs over the final page of Barchester Towers as over a novel by Grisham, what will be the guiding goal of life, wealth, power, and poularily or selfless service?

A Funny Thing Happened On My Way to 90

My sister Elta just turned 92. Physically she doesn't seem to have much to go on. But up until a few months ago she was mentally sharp and had a quick sense of humor that just wouldn't give up. It was fun to be around her because she was always coming up with some clever one-liner that put a cute twist on situation that some people would miss all together or take it as ocassion for a rant or a complaint.



She confided that she didn't like to be asked how she was a dozen times a day, so when someone asked her answer was, "Just like I was yesterday." And if they followed up with "And how were you yesterday," she responded, "Oh, I forget." Even some possible grim situations got turned into funny stories, especially if they were about herself.



Like the time she told me that she was leaving the dinning room in her assisted care unit and when she got to the door she discovered she was pushing her chair instead of her walker. She said, "Well, you can imagine what I did--first thing I looked all around to see if anyone was watching."



Or the time she reminisced several times about carrying a bag of popcorn which she was munching on in her room. She reached up in a cabinet to retrive something when she lost her balance, fell backward and landed sprawled out on the floor, popcorn scattered far and wide. she gradually sat up, checked out her bones and found them all still connected. Deciding she might as well redeem the time while on the floor she worked her way around picking up the corn and eating it. Eventually someone came by or she rang the bell and help arrived but she had her popcorn taken care of.



While short term memory might be a problem some long term items were readily available for retelling. Those were often the ones that drew laughter from the family whenever they were told. Like the time Mother and Dad were entertaining company in the living room when our fox terrier, Terry, came proudly trotting into the room firmly holding Mother's corset in his teeth with the strings trailing along behind, then dropping his prize grandly in the middle of the floor.



Then there was the oft told tale of Dad teaching Mother to drive the 1913 model T Ford by having her drive the contraption into the garage. His instructions were no doubt as clear as mud and with Mother's nerves as taut as a high strung violin she got the general direction perfectly but didn't get the part about the brake and took model T directly into the back wall with Dad shouting, WHOA! WHOA! Elta had a number more, some less elegant but all with that twist of hilarity.

I must have inherited some of the same interest in recalling tales of yore, at least our visits always included sessions of "Can you top this." Of course over time there was some embelishment. It just proved that Mark Twain was right when he wrote in his biography: "When I was younger I could remember anything, whether it happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so that I can remember only those things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it."

Fortunately at this point, most of what I remember actually happened. I am sure others included in the story would remember it differently but every one had no trouble getting the humor. I was a a small boy, perhaps four or five. Dad's nephew and his new bride paid us a visit, it may have been on their honeymoon. Our small house had no extra bedrooms but there were always ways to make do. This night the newly weds were give my parents bedroom where I also slept. Dad and Mother moved upstairs and I was moved to the living room sofa. That sofa was just on the other side of the wall from the bedroom. The next morning at breakfast when everyone was assuring each other that they had a sound night of sleep, I piped up that I wondered about the sleeping part reported by our guests when "they were fighting all night." I don't remember any outright laughter but I do remember some sputtering of coffee and snorting of cereal.

Old age looks a lot better from the sunny side of the street. With a merry heart doing good like a medicine and hope I can keep a smile as my umbrella and the joy of the Lord as my strength.

Home For Christmas

I was a student at Hesston College--a million miles from home. Being in my second and final year did not make the distance any less. Already four weeks before Christmas I was counting the days until vacation and being at home. I was also editor of the Hesston College Journal and had one more edition to put to bed before heading East.

My mind was in no frame to write an editorial but I was backed up against a deadline and something had to fill that space. In desperation a pulled down a volumn of quotations. Maybe I could copy something that would satsify my word count. Under "Christmas" and under "Dickens" one line stood out like a string of blinking lights, "And I do go home at Christmas."

Don't ask me what work it is from or what followed that line. I didn't see any more than that. I could have gone on for a whole chapter on that idea. I had my editorial in twenty minutes. It hardly fit in a college periodical. Certainly not scholarly nor researched. It was simply the heartfelt ache of a homesick kid.

I guess every year since I have gone home at Christmas. Treasuring the memory of 60 Christmases. Beging with the one at 508 N. Elm, Nappanee to eight different homes. But wherever, finding there the beauty of family, the joy of being together, the richness of tradition, the secuity of faith, the wonder of love. Beginning with just two of us in a honeymoon cottage in Vineland, Ontario where our gifts were cautiously calculated because our resources were so limited. Later in Lombard, Illinois where the house was bulging with children home from school and the paper from our gifts would have filled a bale. In each place there is the warmth and delight of experiencing what all the cards wish for and portray as meaningful.

I do go home for Christmas and relive or rather live anew everything from the awesome quiet of a star filled night to the happy clamor of a family exulting in the joy of being toether at home for Christmas.

Words That Come and Go

I've noticed that some words are like clothing fads, they come in style and in five years they are all but forgotten. Remember during the eighties when everyone was fascinated by the new phenomena of satelites and electronic communication. Suddenly everyone was "down loading" and "up linking " or "off loading." It seemed rather ostentatious. One employer had his fill and posted this notice: "I will be down coming on the next person I hear saying down load and they will soon be out going." History doesn't record the result of that threat but those terms, in most circles, are only a memory.



More recently we were hearing a constant barrage of "robust." As I remember it was one of Don Rumsfeld's favorite terms. He had robust troop build-ups and robust offensives going all the time. Another phrase becoming threadbare and needing to be replaced is "at the end of the day." Apparently it is one of the rules of the United States Senate that no speech will be be on the floor or interview made on television that does not include "at the end of the day." What's wrong with "finally"? I sincerely hope that we are close to the end of the road with "at the end of the day."



"The bottom line" is a related phrase that made it big with the politicians and was sometimes picked up by the locals as indicating being knowledgable. Actually, it meant that you couldn't think of the phrase "in summary."



Finally, there is "going forward." This one is heard primarily among politicians. It seems to mean "in the future" but then I suppose "going forward" indicates that you know all about the future and are fearlessly progressing toward the solving of all problems.



These words too, will no doubt have their day and then receed into the bin of former catchy fads that have lost their appeal. May they rest in peace along with "spiffy" and "cool." Oops. You mean "cool" is alive and well? I guess the bottom line is that some words take longer to die than others.

Don't Trust the Crowd

I spend very little time in the financial pages of the newspaper but a heading caught my eye in the Nov. 22 edition of the Washington Post. It was by Bob Frick, Kiplinger writer on "Personal Finance." The heading read, "Don't trust the crowd if you value the truth."



Frick was commenting on the tendency of investment clubs to concentrate on one method of choosing their investments and not tolerate dissent in the group. Challenges to the prevailing opinion are often met with deep skepticism if not hostility. That phenomenon is called "group think" in which he explains, people seem to adandon reason and simply follow the crowd." Psychologists through experiments have concluded that humans seem to be hard-wired to believe what the crowd tells us. Further, tests show that disagreeing with a group stimulates the pain centers of the brain.



That may explain why the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures spoke of themselves being in agony. Their lonely voices raised against the group think of their day gave them a perpetual headache. And, of course, their criticism of the policies and action of people in high places gave them the reputation of being a headache to those who wouldn't tolerate dissent.



The model for going against the stream of public opinion is Jesus. Following his daring act of cleansing the temple the were a number who observed this demonstration of discernment and authority and as well as other dramatic signs and decided that here was where there was excitment. After describing the event and the crowds reaction the gospel writer, John, concludes, "But Jesus on his part, would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and need no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone." John 2:23ff.



It was clear that the crowd is fickle, responding to unreliable whims and appetites. In short an unreliable guide. Especially is this true of a population for whom self-preservation and nationalistic pride is their ultimate concern. It seems this concern develops into a demonic spirit that is extremely difficult to resist or break. Inevitably it is wrong and leads to sorrow and loss.

What's a Budget Buster

David Broder is a serious pundit for the Washington Post and waxes as serious as he ever gets in the Sunday, Nov. 22 edition when he analyses the health care plan before the Congress. He takes the pessimistic view quoting studies that show there will be no savings and that it will be more costly in the long run, shot run, or in any run at all.



I doubt if Broder wrote the title to his piece at least the words do not appear anywhere in the column. The column is headed, "A budget-buster in the making." The title takes the piece to the extreme to create the maximum amount of skepticism and fear.



But it is curious to me that in the matter of health care for the nation's population that lacks there is this effort to claim it is too costly, dangerous, and disasterous. The nation has been dealing with budget busters for decades without a whimper. Bridges to nowhere have stretched to the horizon for years and the states smimply clammord for more. Subsidies have been doled out to various idustries and farmers like sugar cookies without one tear for the poor budget. And all wars win the instant status of "holy" and are funded willy-nilly without consideration for budgets or the future generations. The tack of the previous administration was to keep the cost of war out of the budget lest it been seen for what it is--a budget buster.



Meanwhile, out of sight is a "black budget," reported by Chalmers Johnson. Officially known as "Special Access Programs" which are devoted to secret millitary and intelligence spending. Unsupervised, and unreported, this budget is really a black hole into which billions of dollars disappear. There can be only an estimate of the total devoted to the secret projects which the GAO places at $30 to $35 billion per year. Where are the pundits, the congress people, the editors who lament the misuse of so much money that could be applied to the health and welfare of the nation?



But the funding of the military becomes a deep, dark secret that defies any effort to bring to light or bring to accountability. Again it is Chalmers Johnson who reveals that the deputy inspector general at the Pentagon "admitted that $4.4 trillion in adjustments to the Pentagon's books had to be cooked to compile...required financial statements and that $1.1 trillion...was simply gone and no one can be sure of when, where or to whom the money went."

It makes absolutely no sense to me that there are those who have a hissy fit every time a suggestion is made that health care will cost something and turn a blind eye to the ways in which the present way of spending money drives the nation into deep and dangerous debt. The national priorities are clearly set by powerful interests that benefit a priviledged class, primarily the indutrial/military complex rather than the desperate needs of people.

An Unrecognized Cost of War

I've always believed that war isn't good for anyone. The true cost is never known, at least never considered, especially when preparing for the next one. And the winner doesn't bother to consider the cost they have paid, except for the soldiers that didn't come back or the amount the nation has gone into debt financially. But in this present war there are costs that are especially obvious that goes beyond body count and billions of dollars.

The cost that seems to be for the first time recognized by the nation that considers itself the winner are the thousands of soldiers that are suffering mental and emotional disability. I have heard one third as the percentage of combat troops who are disabled or crippled by mental trauma. And another figure I heard today is that last year 140 military personnel commited suicide. This year they project the number to exceed that. This number does not include veterans, only those presently still in the armed forces. Plus each one of these casualties represents families, mothers, fathers, spouses, children, and others who whose lives are damaged or devastated by the agony of grief and added burden.

The armed forces admit that they do not have enough trained counselors to handle the number who need help. Further, one counselor who was interviewd on PBS said the purpose of their counseling was to return them to their unit as soon as possible. If being in their unit is the source of their problem how can they hope to regain mental health by returning?

It seems to me that clear thinking people who are considering the use of war as an effective instrument of dealing with problems would say that perhaps war has a cost that makes it too expensive to use, at least when there is another option available. The manufacturer whose equipment seriously injured one third of its employees would be forced to devise another way of making its product or close down.

I would be ready to help paint the sign: War Closed Until It Becomes Safe.