Living a Legendary Life … November 22nd, 2020

Slip-Slidin’ Away

If you’re intrigued with the notion of living a legendary life, you have to be aware of (and beware) slippage.

In olden times they referred to it as “backsliding”–allowing oneself to back away from principles once held dear because the temperature of the times have changed.

In the past ten years, we’ve allowed a streak of meanness to become acceptable. I’m sure this is no surprise.

But the meanness brings about a slippage in the attitudes of people toward each other–and even in the passion for life.

It’s like the proverbial rolling stone:

Those who were once merciful have slipped into being merely open-minded, leaving mercy abandoned.

The open-minded people have slipped to being generous–but only to people they know well or who are related to them.

Generous folks have backslidden to being kind–hoping that flashing a smile will suffice without having to commit to action.

And kind people, who used to think up ways to be contributors, have slipped to nice. If at all possible they will offer a pleasant countenance to the world around them–unless something odd happens.

At that point, nice people become careful. They will swear that the reason they become careful is because the world is screwed up and “you can’t trust anybody.”

And of course, careful people drop into being suspicious. They talk about animals being more trustworthy than humans.

And those who were naturally suspicious before become downright grouchy. They don’t even pretend to lead with a sweetness of spirit. It’s too risky.

And it goes without saying, there were people who were grouchy to begin with. They have become edgy–ready for a fight. Unfortunately, edgy people usually find that fight, and end up being bullies.

Bullies have become fighters and fighters are more violent.

The Republicans blame the Democrats and vice versa–but this problem of slippage did not come along with Donald Trump. Even if he exacerbated the problem, you have to admit that during the two terms of President Obama, there was a mind-boggling amount of fussing, arguing and struggling

You may consider this a “conservative” problem, or the “liberal media.”

But here’s something we all need to face:  If we’ve done everything we can do to improve our nation, our states, our cities, and there’s nothing more we can do, then perhaps it’s time for us to just work on ourselves.

Where have you slipped to?

Where have you fallen?

If even 10% of the population would raise their human effort up one notch, to the position they occupied before 2016, there would be such an improvement in the climate of this country that the other 90% would not be able to ignore it.

Now is the time to stop backsliding.

Let us lead the leaders. After all, there are no indication that government, business, education or religion is going to lead a resurgence in civil behavior.

No–it’ll be up to us. Let’s just take a look at our own slippage, and climb up one notch toward civility.

And my friends, it’s a necessary step if we’re going to lead legendary lives.

Living a Legendary Life … November 8th, 2020

Thirty, Sixty and a Hundred

The Mandeville Marauders were a baseball team.  Last season they got a new coach.

Bob Stark.

Coach Stark took over a team that was always playing .500 ball—won as many as they lost and lost as many as they won. Of course, no aspiring coach plans on maintaining such a record. The goal is to win more, to justify both his hiring and his techniques of motivating a team. Coach Stark had one simple rule:  hit home runs.

The team practiced fielding and running, but during batting practice there would be no rehearsal of the sacrificed fly or even simulation of the bunt.

Nope. Home runs. That’s what Coach Stark wanted and that’s what they practiced. Coach Stark contended that this was the way the Marauders could be pulled out of the doldrums of a mediocre season.

There was an excitement all through spring training camp. All of the players became better at hitting the long ball and at judging pitches–waiting for the right one so they could smack it out of the park.

The chatter in Mandeville was incessant. Just on the strength of word of mouth, there were more people purchasing advertisement in the program book and vendors lining up to have concession stands at the stadium.  Every one was certain that Coach Stark’s “home run philosophy” would put the Marauders in the winning column and Mandeville on the map.

The first game was against the Adamsville Athletics. The philosophy paid off.  Six of the nine batters hit a home run during the game.  Exciting—Yes, downright thrilling to see those balls flying out of the park. That’s why it was so perplexing that the Marauders lost the game—8 to 6.  The Athletics had no home runs.  But eight men had been able to cross the plate.

Coach Stark celebrated with the team the six home runs and told them, “We’ll get ‘em next time.”

Well, next time they hit five home runs—big long ones—and lost 7 to 5 to the Terrapins. Three nights later, it was another loss, 9 to 7, to the Tigers. All in all, after six games, the Marauders players had hit thirty-four home runs, a team record, and lost all six games.

Coach Stark was at his wit’s end.  After the last game, a sixth loss against the Ducks, an old man emerged from the crowd and asked Coach Stark if he could have a moment of his time. He was a small fellow, the kind that would be almost invisible even in a room occupied by three people.

He sat down with the Coach and made his case. “Coach Stark, I’ve been watching your team for the past six games. I, myself, have never played baseball, but have always enjoyed the sport, although at times I find it a bit slow and dull.”

Coach Stark frowned at the little old man, so he hurriedly continued.

“It just seems to me, Coach, that if everyone’s always hitting home runs, there’s no way to get anyone on base, so that when you actually do get a home run, you don’t just score one person, but two, three or even four. You see, that’s how they’re beating you, Coach. One of their batters may strike out, followed by another one getting a base hit, and then the guy who got the base hit runs to second base, and the next guy maybe walks. Then somebody else hits a double and then the next batter hits a double, a runner scores, and then you have two runners on second and third. So your pitcher decides to walk the next batter, loading the bases. The next batter hits a fly ball, which your fielder drops, allowing two more runners to score.”

Coach Stark was annoyed by the little, old man. “What is it you’re trying to say, fella?” he demanded.

The old man paused for a moment and then spoke slowly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, if everybody is trying to hit home runs, there’s not enough people getting on base to make the home runs mean much.”

Coach Stark piped in. “There is nothing better than a home run.”

The old man paused and then replied. “Well, I think there is, sir. And that’s a victory caused by the whole team working together.”

As in our story, we live in a world that extols the beauty and the power of hitting the home run. Fame and fortune are portrayed as the ultimate symbols of human value. But life really doesn’t work that way. Just like in baseball, life demands that we pick up the bat and take our chances. Sometimes we strike out, sometimes it’s a base hit. Sometimes we walk. And sometimes we hit a double, a triple, or even a home run. The only difficulty comes when we don’t recognize the value of each and every maneuver.

The Marauders found out that without base hits, home runs don’t add up to victories. Without bunts and walks and stolen bases, people cannot get onto the playing field—people who add up and make a difference, and not only make the victory sweeter, but actually make the victory possible.

Sometimes opportunities come in thirties, sometimes they come in sixties and sometimes they come in hundreds.  The legendary lifer knows that three thirties nearly make a hundred, and two sixties are even more.

Where are the people writing music that may never be heard by the entire world, but relished by a regional few? Where are the politicians who do not aspire to national office, but instead, make one little town a little bit of heaven? Where are the shopkeepers that will never appear on the stock exchange, but create jobs for a selected few?

Babe Ruth was arguably the greatest baseball player of all time.  He was called the Home Run King. He also had the greatest ratio of strikeouts.

So feel free to aim for the fences every time you come to the plate, but if you want to live a full, legendary life, you are going to take your place on first base, and let another person hit you in.

The true sense of success is in the value of the journey and the creation of the miracle–by our own hands and the helping hands of others.

 

Sit Down Comedy … October 2nd, 2020

Jonathots Daily Blog

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Today’s SIT DOWN COMEDY is shared by Joel Christopher Scott, one of Jonathan’s adopted sons.

List of things I learned from Jonathan Richard Cring:

1. Every ‘Things To Do Today’ list shall begin with ‘Write a Things To Do Today’ list.

2. Get up early and nap after lunch.

3. Tip your servers, treat them like people.

4. Don’t fear.

5. Listen for the universe, because it speaks softly.

6. Even a bad swim is better than almost anything else.

7. Real fathers try.

8. Good engineers get out of the way of the artist.

9. Make things eventful.

10. Let humans be human and love them.

11. The older you get, the more expensive problems become—get used to it.

12. Check your oil.

13. Music should be an experience.

14. Practice at home; rehearse when you get around other people.

15. Luck exists, and so does grace.

 

Joel Christopher Scott is a husband and father, professional lighting and production designer, occasional musician and writer.

Periodically mows his yard to comply with local ordinances.

Bakes a pretty decent lasagna (or so he is told).

Crazy Larry… February 24, 2013

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I think it was about eight years ago. I had begun to write screenplays for independent movies, was composing some symphonic works for a regional orchestra, was working on a couple of novels and traveling across the country doing my presentation in churches.

It was an excitingly varied life, which brought one piece of information to the forefront of my mind: everyone is basically looking for a central mission in their journey, but are often reluctant to name that yearning by using one of the conventional terms for God or spirituality.

I found that both intriguing and comical. The thought in my mind is, once you find out where faith has its nexus, the name you come up with for this precious sense of peace of mind is not nearly as important as remaining passionate and fervent.

So I wrote a book called Living a Legendary Life, and in a very tongue-in-cheek style I proposed that rather than fighting over religious vernacular, we should just go ahead and call God–Larry.

I thought it was quite funny. I wasn’t actually suggesting that we start the First Church of Larry or the Holy Order of Larry. What I failed to realize was that I was trying to be humorous, off-the-cuff and clever in a world that does not particularly favor those presentations.

I immediately ran into the conservatives and the liberals. The conservatives were upset because I suggested that the name of the Divine God of the Universe was one of the Three Stooges. The liberals, on the other hand, were dismayed because I portrayed a God named Larry (which they didn’t have much problem with) but that this Deity expected people to be involved in their own lives and not cop out on their responsibilities.

Little did I know that I had placed myself directly in the center between these two houses of philosophy, and was in danger of being shot by both sides.

It made me think of the words of Larry’s son, Jesus, who once noted that he was very happy that truth is “hidden from the wise and prudent.” The wise consist of those more liberal individuals, who contend that they’re more intellectual and scientific than their backwoods brethren. And the prudent are the conservatives, who think the only way to be acceptable is to retreat into former times, when everything was supposedly just hunky-dory, and you could actually say “hunky-dory.”

This experience has not deterred my effort to maintain an autonomy from both camps. The wise are too smart to learn and the prudent are too careful to be blessed.

So both of them thought my idea was a rather “crazy Larry” concept–and my satire escaped them. But for those who are not bound by the restrictions of either world, who still believe that God loves us all, and keep good cheer in their lives because it is their favorite survival tool, my writings are still appreciated–and even occasionally comprehended.

After all, faith needs two very important parts: (1) it needs function. It’s got to be practical enough to be of some earthly good. (2) And it requires fervor. If it doesn’t energize you, it is a faith without works … which is dead on arrival..

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

Writer–not “Righter”–November 15, 2011

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She was so angry with me. Having purchased my book, Living a Legendary Life, she became incensed with Chapter 1, where I assert that it really doesn’t matter what we call God. We can even call him Larry as long as our deity teaches us to love people. She felt the concept I was putting forth was theologically incorrect and contained a bit of heresy.

I looked at her, bewildered–because I am not a theologian. I don’t even play one on television. Without being too critical, I don’t usually like to find myself in the company of such creatures. I am a writer–not a “righter.” It is my job to shed light upon subjects, and get people to think and feel again, instead of merely reacting within their denomination, political party or social structure’s platform of believing. Cleverness is my greatest tool, not necessarily accuracy. I am an observer of human behavior, not an explainer or controller.

It is my job as a writer, when things are not going well, to remind us of our better selves, and if necessary, chide us into believing that being human is a blessing rather than a curse.

I chose to be a writer because I never found that people who are trying to “right” all the wrongs in the world necessarily begin with a good agenda that would actually set the direction in a forward motion. It’s hard to be “right.” Not quite so difficult to write. Maybe that’s why I chose to be a writer instead of a “righter.”

Possessing a bit of laziness and unwillingness to attach a bibliography to everything I say, I have chosen a path where I can be erred and still be entertaining and enlightening. Do I occasionally discover things that are right as I write? Only God and time will prove that to be true. But as a writer, it is my job to explore all four of the human cavities of experience–the heart, the soul, the mind and the strength.

I am supposed to get people to feel again. Also, can I construct a sentence that might cause folks to consider the existence, or even the purpose, of God? Sitting behind my desk, might there be a concept that I conjure from my imagination that will cause human beings to think beyond their culture and apprehensions? And, as one of those writers, I am not afraid of the human body, sexuality and the expression of our physicality to one another. I examine the language, the tendencies, the trends and add my own little spice of humor and wit, such as it is, to make things a bit brighter.

I am not suggesting to this woman that she call God Larry. Actually, Frank would be just fine. Seriously, I would just like her and everyone else who has become intransigent in their pursuit of eternal righteousness, to consider for one moment what is really important, and if it is important, why it might be the first thing that pops to God’s mind when He meets us. I am not bound by conventional wisdom, nor am I limited to conventional morality. Yes, I can even explore the more unseemly portions of mankind’s behavior.

I have always feared those who believe they’re right. It’s just because I know how inadequate my own efforts can be and I have not yet found anyone else who supersedes my potential by enough of a margin to make me think that they have discovered the one true path to God.

So I write.

In the process, maybe occasionally I come up with something “right,” but I will guarantee you that I say enough wrong that you must not trust every word that comes from my pen and think it is an oracle of the divine.  Shoot, often it’s not even my own best work.

It will not be our prophets that will bring our country to a state of repentance. Politicians would never have enough organization to change the world through laws. Corporations are bogged down with their own profit margin and therefore don’t always seek the best for the consumer. And in my mind’s eye, religion spends too much time trying to please a God who already seems pleased.

It is our writers who will shed light on the dark corners of human selection and make us wonder if we can actually do better. If I really believed that God was angry about being called Larry, I would suggest that He take a course in sensitivity and turn His ego down a notch or two.  After all, I have taken my share of criticism and scrutiny, and have been able to survive it and grow through it. I think God, who certainly made some interesting creations that would be well worth questioning, is perfectly able to handle any mere writer’s imaginary journey.

If you gave me a choice of Allah (who supposedly is very angry at anyone who is not a Muslim) and Jehovah (who kills Amorites because they still have a foreskin) and the thousand gods of the Hindus (who certainly tend to collide with one another) or even the God of the New Testament (who often is perplexed about whether to be more like Jesus or Paul), I think I might prefer a God named Larry, who just really would like to see people get along and be happy. Because after all, you couldn’t have a name like Larry and take yourself too seriously.

So just to make it clear to you and all future critics, I am a writer, not a “righter.” I will leave such decisions of truth and accuracy in the hands of the angels. My hands are flesh and blood–and simply write of such matters.

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Here comes Christmas! For your listening pleasure, below is Manger Medley, Jonathan’s arrangement of Away in the Manger, which closes with him singing his gorgeous song, Messiah.  Looking forward to the holidays with you!

 

Jonathan sings “Let”

 

Jonathan Sings “Spent This Time”

 

Jonathan and his partner, Janet Clazzy, play “The Call”