Good News and Better News… July 3rd, 2017

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Freedom.

It is the best America has to offer.

It is the finest export to the world around us.

Because it hearkens to the freewill the Creator gave every human, it is the voice of God in a world of devilishness.

It is slightly weakened by the application of democracy. Although the voting concept seems intelligent, it still concludes that the majority rules. The assumption that the majority is always right–or ever right–is historically erroneous.

So freedom, which is a purity hatched in the heavens, is tainted by democracy, which allows for the sheer brute force of numbers.

For that reason, democracy does not work in every country. Freedom, which has a universally healing effect, can often be destroyed by inserting democracy into nations which are ill-suited for the process because they are surrounded by intimidating forces.

And then there’s politics. Politics is what democracy produces in an attempt to create balance, which ironically, actually imbalances everything. It no longer is an issue of what’s right or wrong or what might be a valid issue, but rather, what your political party supports and how you can also support it.

In no time at all, we lose the individuality of having one stance on a single issue and a different angle on another. Just the removal of politics would make democracy work better, and democracy would work beautifully if it kept its eye on freedom for all.

241 years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a piece of rebellion. It wasn’t a country and certainly wasn’t based solely on freedom, because many of the inhabitants of that nation were thought of as inferior.

It was a piece of rebellion.

It now becomes our job to turn it into freedom that can function as a democracy without the burden of politics.

The good news is that God loves freedom.

The better news is that if we will commit to good reason, we will never miss politics.

 

 

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Untotaled: Stepping Five (May 8th, 1964)… March 8, 2014

Jonathots Daily Blog  

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Her name was Cammie. (Well, actually, I assume it still is.)

She lived four doors down from me in a brick house with her mother and father–an only child.

I don’t know how I met her. I think our mothers were friends from a former time and felt it would be wonderful if we “played together.”

I was twelve, she was eleven. We had nothing in common. But once a week I walked down to her home and for an hour or so we did our best to strike up some sort of friendship.

On May 8th, 1964, I made the same journey. But this time, Cammie had a much more enthusiastic plan for our afternoon. It may have been initiated by her mother leaving us alone, as she went to the local IGA to purchase sweets and treats. Shortly after the departure of the maternal force, Cammie took me by the hand and led me to the front yard, where there were two pine trees growing by the bay windows–huge trees which had practically grown together to form one massive organism.

Pushing past the branches, she pulled me into the enclosure, completely secluded form the outside world. She lay on her side on the bed of needles and patted a space next to her, for me to join. I know it sounds silly, but I had no idea what was happening. Or maybe I did somewhere deep in my being, because I did not hesitate to comply.

As soon as I reclined, she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. I wanted to run, but of course, didn’t. She did it again and again. (Well, for the sake of brevity, it was seven times.)

In the midst of this onslaught of smooches, I noticed that my southern hemisphere suddenly came alive. My…well, my Australia pointed northwards to Indonesia. My longitude expanded without me giving latitude. I had lost control. Honest to God, at that point I wanted my Aussie to go back to looking on New Zealand.

I was terrified.

On the other hand, Cammie was curious. She came even closer, slowly reaching her hand towards my emerging continent. And then … bam! A brief eruption.

Horrified, mortified and delighted all at the same time, I stumbled to my feet, hobbled a few paces, burst through the branches and ran all the way home, the best I could.

I avoided seeing Cammie for the next three weeks. It became a religious exercise complete with my own form of repentance. When I finally asked my mother about the family, she explained that the reason I wasn’t going down to see Cammie was that her mother and father had taken a position in Lima, Peru, and they had moved.

I can’t explain the combination of relief and disappointment that flooded my being.  Time passed.

Two years later, Cammie returned to our town. She enrolled in our school.

I had grown.

Cammie, on the other hand, had grown more attractive.

We never connected again. I shall never forget her, though.

She is why I still smile when I see a kangaroo and giggle when I hear the word “eucalyptus.”

               

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Last Stop in the Lone Star … June 2, 2013

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Tex Mex. I love it.

I’m not just speaking of the cuisine offered in this great state of Texas, which is a blending of Mexican food and Southern cooking. I’m speaking more specifically of the fact that the folks of Texas were smart enough to realize that there were Mexicans already living there when they arrived and also Native Americans, and rather than fighting them, they joined with them, starting in the kitchen and including the living room.

Texas always feels like what you might call America, Part II. When the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, they began the arduous process of assimilating with other cultures and people to form a great union of many nations, merging behind a central idea–freedom.

We had to repeat the process in Texas. People from all over the continent came there seeking a new way of life, but discovered there were already natives and folks from other countries, and rather than killing ’em off or segregating them, they married, interacted and created a cultural Tex-Mex.

It wasn’t always perfect. But it is certainly why Sam Houston, who was governor, refused to leave the Union when the Confederacy seceded. It was the independent nature in Mr. Houston which told him that treating other people as lessers makes for neither good neighbors nor good government. While some people may look to Washington, D.C.,  Hollywood, New York City or the state of California for inspiration in reviving the grass-roots of our national treasure, I think we need much of that birthing spirit found in the original Lone Star State of Texas, which instead of arguing and fussing with their neighbors, made a good attempt at blending.

This is why Texas is different from Alabama, and what makes Texas unique from Iowa. And it is what makes Texas distinct from California and New York. Texans can be stubborn, but after they get their cowboy hats knocked off a few times by reality, they learn pretty quickly, adapt and move toward solutions.

I have spent four months touring across this state and I’m not trying to portray myself as an expert on the state. But I will tell you–the people I met have strong virtues and ideals, but have not buried their heads in the sand or their feet in cement. They realize that time marches on. And what may have been a tradition twenty years ago is now subject to amending. It’s very simple–any idea that alienates us from our brothers and sisters in the family of humankind is useless and therefore needs to be changed.

I am optimistic. While liberals think conservatives are hilariously stupid and conservatives are sure that the liberals are headed for a devil’s hell, I am wondering if it’s possible to take a moment, look into our own hearts, and like true Texans, avoid both ignorance and Dante’s Inferno.

Tex Mex. What a great, simple idea that exemplifies the willingness to at least attempt to blend our flavors.

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