Spring is springing . . . well, maybe

    "In the Spring, I have  counted 136 different kinds of weather within 24 hours."
      Mark Twain

      Once upon a long time ago, all the students in our one building school (grades one through twelve) were assembled weekly in the auditorium for a 'program' of varying descriptions.  Sometimes it might be a local clergy person giving us a 'now, do the right thing' sermonette; once a year there was a drama group called the Sauline Players which toured North Carolina schools for many years. But in the 'why in the world do I remember that ?' group there is a memory of Fourth Grade teacher, Miss Edith Maynard, annually having us sing-a-long with "  'tis Springtime, 'tis Springtime, Cold Winter has passed; The birds are returning, their songs fill the air. . ."

    Well, the elusive and capricious season officially arrived a few days ago.  But, don't tell the elements that.  We have enjoyed a few days of above 70* temperatures and now there is a frost warning !  ... a kind of bad April Fool's joke. And, we will not even talk about the monsoon season.  But ... the colors are beginning to decorate the landscape all around.  And, indeed the 'birds are returning': we have seen species at our deck feeder that have long been in warmer climates.

       Did you ever memorize a 'speech' for public recitation? 
Probably not, unless you are of 'a certain age' but this was once a common Spring staple of the school year.  I remember the opening line (but no more ) of my third grade spell-binder: "My mamma says I have Spring Fever !"  When I reached high school, my teammates and I looked forward to being allowed to leave classes early and go to the gymnasium and dress in our uniforms for baseball games.

   The lasting joy of Spring, however, is the reminder of new beginnings.  I know, some folks favor Winter as 'their season'. But  Spring signals HOPE.  For good reason, the Christian faith  has placed Easter  in this time of the year in the Northern hemisphere.

   As a small celebration of the transition,  today we ordered more daffodils and day lilies to add to our landscape.

    It's a good time to 'add color' to life !

               Satchel

What time is it ? . . .you mean now?

     

 "What time is it ?
          "You mean now ?"
                 One of Yogi Berra's many word-plays, like "When you come to a fork in the road, take it" and "Baseball is 90% mental and the other half physical".

    But his response about time is the one that comes to mind just now.  Daylight Saving Time begins this Sunday...
the 'Spring ahead' part of the formula when 'time will fly'. Will be a bit darker when many  folks wake up but the 'day is longer' on the other end.  You know, like cutting off an end of a blanket and sewing it to the other end to make it all longer.

    As an idea, DST has a long history.  Apparently, Benjamin Franklin advocated the practice.  Still, it is not universally observed, even in the United States. With the exception of the Navajo Nation, Arizona remains on 'Standard' time.

    The transition can be difficult, especially in the first few days.  Our dog has problems understanding why necessities like breakfast, bedtime, and 'bathroom' have been rescheduled.  Many of us humans experience similar dissonance until our rhythms have adjusted.  NBC has on its app several  recommendations for easier acclimation.

   Then there are the 'minor' inconveniences.  A current church joke asks, "Do you know what comes after the final hymn in the worship service?"  Answer: People who forgot to reset their clocks. In the 1980's as I was concluding a morning service, looking out the window, I saw N.M. parking her car. She was a tad embarrassed. And, when teaching, I noticed that the students in the 8 a.m. class were somewhat less interested in the collapse of the Roman Empire. (Full disclosure: So was I)

     I have found that after a few days the dissonance subsides and I enjoy DST and  would advocate for its being  year round.

     'Spring Ahead !'

          Satchel

    
  

   

"What 'cha gonna do now, Cracker Jack?"

   "I don't think it's possible to have a wedding without it being stressful."    
       Debra Messing
    
"Falling in love was the easy part; planning a wedding -yikes !"
       Niece Nash

 Have you ever gone to a wedding (or a funeral) only to discover when it's too late to exit gracefully that you are at the wrong place at the wrong time?

   I enjoy Sean Dietrich's daily blog, Sean of the South.  A few days ago he wrote of attending a friend's wedding but soon realized that he was a week early.  That story opened a trove of wedding stories from times when I have been the officiant, as well as an embarrassing experience at my own.

    "This is not your first rodeo, is it ?" the Wedding Director observed after I had addressed my grand-daughter's  wedding party. Among other details, I instructed them to walk slowly as if they were on the way to pay taxes and had insufficient funds. Unlike others that I had experienced, she was easy to work with. There have been others  . . . like the woman whom I explicitly told about protocols in our sanctuary only to have her violate several.  She came nowhere near me at the reception.

    My first-ever ceremony came fifty years after the couple had  made their first  commitment.  Nancy and Wilbur decided to renew their vows (well, actually, I think she decided and he realized he had no option).  With their adult children, grand-children and congregational members watching, I said to him, "You may kiss your bride." With the proverbial deer in the headlights look, he managed "Huh !?" to which she said something like, "I will do it !" and put a big smooch on his amazed face.

    Do you remember the television program that often ran clips of brides and grooms passing out?
Well, imagine my surprise at an outdoor service when I noticed Keith turning grey, then fall backwards. He recovered before hitting the ground in great laughter. Even so, several of his kinsmen  who were EMT's insisted that he be checked out. While that was occurring, I noticed that his uncle, a professional photographer, was videoing while waving us away from the scene.

   Then there was the time when I almost fell. Stan and Julie are professional musicians and he enjoys telling how I, standing one step above the wedding party, began rocking to and fro and he prevented my toppling onto them by pushing against my chest to stabilize me.

   "Tying the knot" derives from a long ago practice of the minister's wrapping his/her stole around the couple's joined hands at the culmination of the vows.

   One bride became so overcome that she began sobbing during the ceremony.  I gave her my handkerchief and later learned that after cleaning it, she gave it a place of honor in her wedding book. A former student from my college history class asked that I perform her remarriage.  She and Pete entered together.  When he reached into his pocket for the ring, he panicked. . . couldn't find it.  I whispered, "take mine" only to realize it would not come off. So I said, "Fake it". After the recessional, he found the elusive  ring in the pocket after all.

   After processing down the aisle with his daughter, one father took two steps back, looked the groom up and down, and gave a stern look which I thought conveyed something like, "You had better be kind to her." Perhaps he should have stared longer as they divorced a few years later.

    Then there are the rings.  "Do you know what to do in the event you drop it during the service ?" I ask nervous grooms.  Expecting a complicated response, they are surprised to hear, "You pick it up."
In the name of full disclosure,  I, who had officiated at many weddings, attempted to place the ring on my wife's right hand. As she strongly resisted, it dawned on me that her left hand was  the correct one.  

    What do you tell guests when there is a long delay in beginning the proceedings?  Sometimes, nothing. Many years ago, I was a groomsman in the home wedding of a college friend.  Just before we were to begin seating guests in the parlor, the doors closed with only the minister and the couple inside. After what seemed HOURS, the  doors opened and guests were ushered to their seats.  Only later did we learn that they were earnestly considering whether to be married.

     Sometimes, just say 'this is why we are waiting'. One Saturday afternoon, as the men were donning their tuxedoes, the groom's father discovered that part of his ensemble had been left at home, some 30-45  miles away. Ten minutes or so after his hasty departure, I informed the guests of the situation and they waited patiently for his return.

    At my nephew's wedding, I was sitting with family on the second row from the front. Joseph was standing at the front with his dad who was officiating, waiting for the bridal entry.  His hard of hearing maternal grand-father had long ago given him the nickname of 'Cracker Jack'.  So, just before Amanda entered the church, Grand-dad's loud inquiry was heard all over the church   "What 'cha gonna do now, Cracker Jack? "

    And, those are just some of the ones that I can tell . . . 
    
   Satchel

Here we go again !

     Early in December we had (for this region) a MAJOR storm which affected life's ebb and flow in many ways.  Gratefully, there was no 'White Christmas'.  And, now the Weather Channel and local meteorologists are saying 'Here comes another Winter Event'.  This time, though, the prospect is more for ice than for snow.  If that proves the case, now what . . .  ?  Slick roads, downed trees and power lines, delays, missed appointments, who knows what else.

   It occurs to me that I have never heard a song entitled "In the Good Old Wintertime" ! This is not the first time that I have lamented about the rigors of Winter on these posts but, good grief, each new blast feels like both an initial shock and an accumulation of frigidity.

    Some might counsel 'compare your weather to that in other parts of the world.'  Yep, New England where my brother lives is a refrigerator from November to April or May.  Today's news carries stories about major blizzards in Europe.  Comparisons, however,  have somewhat limited shelf life.  I remember a cartoon from Bill Mauldin's World War II book, Up Front.   Willie and Joe, the quintessential infantrymen, are in a foxhole and bullets are flying overhead.  One turns to the other and says, "The h*** this isn't the most important foxhole in the world.  I'm in it !"  Winter weather 'events' usually are not comparable to combat experiences and I do not intend to be callous towards storms endured in other places.  
  
    Just hold on !!  Spring's coming.  At least, it always has.

     Satchel

   

Family tales told again, and again , and . . .

       "I've heard that story a million times !" followed the re-telling of a long ago event when the extended family gathered for the holidays.

       Among other tales, there was the recounting of very young Chandra's question to Mal and his "Lord, God, that young'un asked me . . . "  Joseph enjoys recounting his overhearing dad's muttering under his breath as mom shouted out yet more instructions from a distance. Caryn remembers mom's delight in telling how she carried her from the hospital after her birth and how important that had been for grand-mother. My mother alleged that her first-born eventually inquired about the new child in the house: "When are you going to take that kid back to the hospital?" Mom's sole surviving sibling, ten years younger than she, has regaled the family with anecdotes of her sister's early years. Everyone seems to  have their favorite.

   Recently, I reread a comment from Joan Chittister's
The Gift of Years, that I like:  "Family tales have always been the parables one generation handed down to the next to tell us who we are and where we came from."  Paradoxically, along with the grief, such tales are often repeated at the time of family deaths.  "Do you remember the time when . . . " or " Grand-daddy told me . . . ".  

  Inter-generational stories can be warm, humorous, and 'heart-gladdening.'  Others  can be reminders of deep hurts. Many years ago I conducted a funeral for a man who likely still had the first dollar he ever made.  While visiting with his family after the service, his older daughter remarked, "Daddy was tight."  I offered, "Don't say he was 'tight', say 'thrifty'." She drew herself  to full stature, clenched her jaw and almost spat, "Tight !!"

    A brother suggested that I write a kind of family history to pass on to our children, grand-children, and subsequent generations.  Well, maybe. 

   What are your many-times-told tales ?

   
       Satchel

     

'TIME FLIES' & OTHER TRUISMS

      Or, as the Romans might have said it: Tempus Fugit !
And, here's a similar truism  : "Time and Tide wait for None"  Not very long ago I resonated with the quip, "Inside every old person is young person wondering what the heck happened"  Here at the almost end of another year as I move towards an 81st birthday, the Simon and Garfunkel words carry especial poignancy: "Slow down, you're moving too fast !!"

    Several recent experiences have focused my awareness of this phenomenon:  First, in late November while reviewing dates on inactive client charts I was struck by the awareness that those I  thought were just recently terminated had been closed for 8 or 10 years or longer.

    Then, my daughter posted  pictures of our two grand-children next to their Christmas tree ---one was when they were wee kidders ten years ago.  This year when she and her husband realized that the teenagers were taller than the tree itself, they had to build a platform for the tree.  But then, their mom was that  size 'the day before yesterday' !

    This Christmas we returned to the same coastal area where we have frequently vacationed, most recently the previous two holiday seasons.  Passing familiar locales conjured memories of events we thought occurred recently but upon closer review, we realized happened way back then.

     Well, then, is there a 'lesson' or a 'moral' or a 'truism' for me within all the above?  Closest that I have been able to ascertain thus far is Carpe Diem --- "seize the day" --- (which contrary to one wag does not mean 'the catch of the day' nor the full Latin quote which some 'translate' as  'eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you may die'.)  I tend more towards something like 'be grateful for each day I have; for enriching memories and for Hope for the future.  And, I know, it all can sound  idealistic or naive.  But I believe it comes close to what the Psalmist had in mind when he prayed, "Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom". (Psalm 90:12).

     Satchel

    

"Here Comes Santa Claus . . . "

      
             "Why write about something as whimsical as Santa Claus when there is so much  tragedy around us ?"  Fair question.  I have been mulling that for much of the evening.  After all, there are children  who 'believe' and will still awaken to NOTHING on the    25th.  And, that is just the beginning.  But you have seen the headlines and pictures and heard the  'talking heads' and, I hope, have extended yourself to mitigate some of the pain and suffering.

      Even into the harshness can there be a brief respite to remember a time of innocence and childhood wonderment ?  Do you have a memory of your first ever sighting of the Man in Red?  I do.   It happened in the early 1940's in Mr. J.G. Williams's store in the cotton mill village of Bynum, NC.  Only years later  did I discover that Santa was busy that day and sent Mr. Walt Hatley to substitute for him. I can retrieve several Christmas memories from 1938 until we moved to another town in 1943.

Christmas 1941 or 1942

           However, were it not for this photograph, any recollection of this particular Christmas would be lost.  I do remember earlier Christmas gifts ... a pair of boots and a tool box from an uncle and aunt; a 'China Clipper' metal toy airplane from Santa,  I guess.  But this one ?  Only the slightest trace of recall.  I think that it was the following year that a metal toy car, complete with pedals and steering wheel, appeared under the tree.  I promptly drove it into one of the brick columns underpinning our mill village house and had to have medical attention for scalp cut.

      The 'cowboy' in this photo carried his pistol on his left hip, even though he was a 'righty'. (Though my brothers and I had subsequent toy cap pistols, neither of us has become violent men.)

    Dad sang a ditty that I suppose was his original: "Santa Claus is coming here, he's coming here tonight;  He'll bring us nuts and candies sweet; Oh, what a beautiful sight" and I could feel the anticipation escalate.  Never did he or mom threaten the proverbial lumps of coal or  bundle of switches reserved for kidders who had been 'naughty' rather than 'nice'.  However, in my adolescence he often teased "if you get anything for Christmas this year, you will know it's from Santa Claus !". Through a Santa mixup, Tommy received this lump of coal in his 2005 stocking.

          During 2018, on the domestic and international stages there have been many who richly deserve not just a 'lump' but an entire truckload of reprimands for undermining the prospect for "Peace on Earth, Good-will to ALL." For us,  may Santa be not a representation of greed and 'give me more'; instead, a reminder of the kinder and generous parts of our being.

      Satchel 

CALM BEFORE THE WINTER STORM

An area radio station has had Bing singing "White Christmas" for weeks.  There are yet 18 or so days til December  25.  A few years ago, we actually had a white Christmas in central North Carolina.  A bit early yet  to know if there will be an encore.  But why wait until Christmas Day, right?

  For several days now local meteorologists have been telling us to get ready . . . there's a 'big one' coming, with up to 8-12 " possible.
Please understand, that is a lot of snow for us.  So, customers are stocking up on supplies of bread and milk (someone asked if these are for 'milk sandwiches'), the Department of Transportation has been loading salt solution for covering the roadways, and the Governor was just on television warning us to be prepared for the possibility of needing to stay indoors for several days.  It's time to inventory your food supply, check batteries, locate flashlights, put extra blankets on beds, pray that the electricity does not go out and generally prepare to hunker down.  Or, so goes the conventional wisdom and common sense.

    But there are those who have no option: homeless people, electric company personnel, mail carriers (if the old slogan of nothing preventing them from their rounds is still in place), hospital staff (already the hospital where I work has activated its inclement weather policy effective tomorrow) , EMT workers, and others that you likely can add to this list.  My clinic is exempt from this particular policy.  However, I anticipate going to my office sixty five miles away tomorrow (Saturday) before the precipitation is expected to begin that evening. By Monday, if the local roads are passable, I will meet any clients able to drive in.

    Well, it gives us something to talk about that differs from typical fare.  And, Mark Twain was correct: "Everyone talks about the weather but no one does anything about it."  However, do you have 
enough milk and bread ?
  Stay safe.

       Satchel

Ghost of Winter storms past.

" I HEARD THE BELLS ON CHRISTMAS DAY . . . "

       "I heard the bells on Christmas Day, their old familiar carols play. And wild and sweet the words repeat of Peace on Earth, Good Will to men [all]."  

     No, I am not attempting to 'rush the season'.  That is already  being done rather universally in American commerce.  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem written in the depths of anguish of the Civil War was greatly on my mind yesterday . . .  because in a subsequent verse, he lamented : "And in despair I bowed my head. 'There is no  peace on earth' I said. For hate is strong and mocks the song of 'Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men.'

    Longfellow had lost his wife in a tragic fire and was seriously injured when attempting to save her.  Then a year later, his older son was gravely wounded by a Confederate bullet. In time the son recuperated but the accumulated personal sorrow  against the backdrop of a national tragedy
took its toll on his spirit, as the words of his song reflect.

   Yesterday's horrific violence at a synagogue in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, followed the most recent rapid succession of hate-filled Terrorism and insults to human dignity and life: the spate of pipe bombs sent to critics of the current political administration; then the cold-blooded murder of persons of color at a Kroger store in Kentucky.  And, now, this . . . at least eleven (11 ! )  persons dead at a house of worship !  Within the past few years there have been deadly shootings at places of worship across the spectrum of faiths. This particular gunman, however, apparently had a history of hatred of Jews.  Anti-Semitism has a long, ugly past . . . and present.

      In an earlier post, I cited Mark Erelli's song, Passing Through:  "Injustice and indifference are the only things I see. But I refuse to let my Hope become the latest casualty."  And, Longfellow in a subsequent verse wrote "Then pealed the bells more loud and deep, God is not dead, nor doth he sleep. The wrong shall fail, the right prevail. With peace on earth, good will to men."  Today, to both of those sentiments, one inquiry is   WHEN ? Other appropriate questions: "Am I contributing to the poisoning of society ?";  "What can I do to live 'good will to all'? " 

    "How long, O Lord, how long? "
        
        Satchel

CAPTION THIS . . .

SEEN  NEAR  HILTON HEAD, S.C.

Recently I posted this picture on Instagram with the invitation to create a caption.  Seemed to me like an excellent  Rorschach test of one's imagination and projections.  Alas, no accepted the opportunity.Now it's your turn.

       And, while you are casting about for the right title, ghoulish or otherwise, add this dimension . . . in a few days it will be that controversial occasion known as  'Halloween'.  Four years ago (!) I published a blog post that I called "Boo!" about the day.  Theories abound about its origins and its suitability in a 'Christian' context.

   I took this photograph near Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, earlier this year.  Each time I see it, I conjure all sorts of questions:
  .Whose grave is this?  The inscription is illegible .
  .When did they live?
  .What was their life like?
   .When did the person die?
   .Are there descendants still living?
   .How long have the tree and marker been growing together?
   .Surely someone must have noted the growth early on. What prompted the decision to let it grow?
   .And, a subject that has interested me of late ---What was this person's legacy; what 'difference' did their having lived make?

    No, this latter is not morbid.  It is a common and (I would insist) necessary question that holds interest for many people, particularly those who have passed the 'three score and ten' mark.   The eminent psychotherapist, Dr. Irvin Yalom, wrote that there are essentially but four meta-issues that enter into a person's therapy: Fear of death, freedom, loneliness and meaning and purpose in one's life.  
  
     Since reading Yalom, I have noticed how one or more of those topics are often intertwined within the immediate issue(s).  A large percentage of my therapy clients are sixty years old and over. Two are well into their mid-80's.  It does not take a 'trained ear' to hear 
them address these matters.

    Having reached my own four-score years, I intend to give more focused attention to such inquiries.  Amazing what you can see when you see a tree growing into a tombstone.

   Satchel


    
   

SHAME TO THE VICTIMS . . .

       A sorry display of intolerance was there for the entire world to see.  Yesterday's Senate Judiciary Committee hearings regarding the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh for the US Supreme Court blatantly revealed many things that are amiss within American society and politics, especially the reflexive practice of disparaging female victims of sexual assault.

     Questions abound . Why have victims of sexual abuse typically been reluctant to speak out about what has happened to them?  Why have so many in power , typically  but not exclusively white males, been either dismissive of their claims or downright condemnatory?  And why would someone wait many years after an assault to report such and how reliable can those memories be?

   To the first question, several responses have been offered: not being believed (even Dr. Freud could not/would not believe his early patients' stories of incest.); fear of further harm; being shamed with innuendos about one's own 'morality'.

   Why not believed or acknowledged?  There is the myth that 'nice guys' would not do that. Underneath is the ugly fact of misogyny ... "dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women".

    As for the accuracy and persistence of traumatic memories ... Not many years ago, a since discredited practice of Recovered Memory Syndrome caused all kinds of havoc, relationally and legally.  These 'memories' were typically considered to have been generated by outside influences and were not actual occurrences. 

    Memory is not always an accurate instrument.  Having acknowledged that does not discount the validity of repressed memories being stored in the brain and impacting one's subsequent life.  Allow me to write from experiences that have occurred in my therapy office over years.

    I began my training as a psychotherapist in 1990 and have subsequently practiced in various capacities within one of the major medical centers in our region.
Within the past ten years, I became aware of and trained in 'Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing', specifically for the treatment of traumas of various types.  (for further details, put your search engine on "E.C. Hurley,Jr" and follow any links suggested.)  Someone said that proof of the validity of EMDR as a mode of therapy is that Blue Cross and the VA reimburse for it.

     The earliest victim of sexual assault was referred to me by a colleague.  The 50+ year old Caucasian female had presented with issues of depression, subsequently attributed to her sexual PTSD.  Following adherence to the protocols of treatment, she revealed that as a 13 year old (40 or so years earlier) , she had been repeatedly assaulted by her father and one of his friends. After several sessions, she came in and said, "I'm ok !"  "Let's talk", I suggested.  At the end of the hour, I recommended a two week interval before our next meeting.  At that time , "I'm ok." and I responded as before.  Then I recommended a three week interval.  Same presentation.  I referred her back to her original therapist and she reported her depression gone there were no more intrusive memories.

   Since that client, I have seen many persons healed of their traumas whether originated in military experiences, in law enforcement, in automobile mishaps, and obviously, sexual abuse.

    Without attempting to explain the many nuances of neurological functioning (of which I am incapable),
it has been observed that EMDR does not remove the memory of the experience but removes the reliving of that.

    This is already a long post so I will not multiply examples.  From these, however, I know how wrong and and how hurtful it is to 'blame the victim' and her memories.  Perhaps it is apropos to note a recent meme that claimed there has been no condemnation of victims of priestly pedophilia from 35 years ago, particularly since the victims were young boys !

   Ron Wachs aka Satchel

    

"WE STILL HAVE WORK TO BE DONE . . .'

  DR. STEVE SCOGGIN

It  was  not a retirement luncheon; he is way too young for that and with too many innovative ideas, responsibilities and energy stores.
Dr. Steve Scoggin became President of CareNet in 2001.  Now that role goes to my former  counseling colleague, Bryan Hatcher.

Formerly known as the Pastoral Counseling Center, CareNet is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Wake Forest Baptist Health in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Under Steve's leadership, CareNet became the largest hospital-based counseling and psychotherapy network in the nation.  But I am getting ahead of the story.

In 2001, our network faced several challenges.  The Director of our local center told me that if anyone could move things forward, it would be Steve, the Executive Director of the relatively new center in the down East town of Greenville.  For three years while his son completed his high school career there, Steve weekly commuted the long drive between home and office.  He and I were often together in the Chaplaincy Department's house which he quickly dubbed 'the monastery'.

Mark Twain supposedly wrote that there are "lies, damned lies and statistics".  Still, there are impressive stats such as these: During Steve's tenure, CareNet grew from 6 Regional Centers across the state to 10.  Within the Regions  there are 30 offices serving individuals and families in 80 of the state's 100 counties as well as in four adjoining states.  In 2001, the counseling staffs generated 18,000 hours of therapy.  This last fiscal year, that number had grown in excess of  50,000 hours. The reserve of operating funds has likewise grown. And, the Residency training program in faith-integrated therapy (not the same as 'faith-based') has resumed. (Just last week, nine Residents were graduated from that three year program.) And while those kinds of numbers capture some of the vitality of the recent past, on their own they do not convey the influence, vision and personal qualities of the man.

As a clinician as well as administrator, Steve sometime ago became
an Assistant Professor in  Psychiatry and Behavioral Medicine and Associate Vice-President of Behavioral Health at the hospital.  Now, as consequence of transitions occurring  within Psychiatry, the Hospital's CEO has appointed him Interim Chair of that Department.  These expanding responsibilities meant a passing of the 'mantel of leadership' for CareNet.

So, yesterday family, friends, colleagues gathered for a luncheon in his honor.  It was a grand event with speeches, songs, gifts, tears, and other expressions of gratitude.  Steve's 'compassion' and encouragements were threads that ran through many of the comments.  

In his response to the tributes, Dr. Scoggin commented that a mantra-like phrase he often uses is "Thanks for having me".  He elaborated that within the phrase were sentiments such as: for   'welcoming me into your life', for 'trusting me enough to labor together for clients and community'; for 'giving me the benefit of the doubt even when I didn't deserve it'; for 'caring for me in spite of myself'; for 'risking your truth and honesty with me'.

While I have on many occasions personally experienced his encouragement, one particular period stands out.  'Ageism' is a sorry reality within many occupations and professions.  At no time have I encountered that 'beast' in my years with CareNet. In 2006, when I was 68 years old, Steve asked me to consider dividing my time between my Winston-Salem office where I had an established practice and becoming Executive Director of a part-time center elsewhere in the state.  The Director (and only therapist) there was retiring.  Throughout my six year tenure as ED, Steve provided constant encouragement and support. 

During one of our state-wide Directors meetings, Steve made an observation that crystallized a key distinction of human functioning.  During a clinical exercise, I quoted another clinician's statement that many persons who experience high anxiety are generally considered to be 'nice'.  Steve responded, "Nice is overrated." Wow!  He continued, "I have never been especially concerned to be considered 'nice'." Double Wow !  "But,  I am   big on compassion."  When someone is 'nice', public opinion  is the main informer of our actions; 'compassion' and 'kindness' suggest  that we do the Right thing because it's the Right thing to do.  Subsequently, I have found this to be a useful distinction . 

Now, Steve turns his expansive energy and compassion to an even larger scope of service for Mental Health needs.  At the conclusion of my brief comments yesterday, Steve affirmed  that "we still have work to be done !" 

     Satchel

RABBIT EARS

     "If I hear anything else out of you, you will be escorted out of this gymnasium !"  Well, that is not a word for word of what colorful basketball referee Lou Bello said  back in 1958 to Charlie Holcombe, one of our college's cheerleaders.  But whatever the words, the message was clear.  Lou having heard Charlie's deriding several calls stopped the game and delivered his ultimatum in front of a hushed crowd.

    Several years later, a referee at a North Carolina State University game tossed two former players (who had also played in the NBA)
for apparently unexplained reasons.  When that same ref returned to call an  NCSU  game about three years later, he called a technical foul on the State coach within four minutes of the start of the game.

     'Badmouthing' officials at athletic events is practically within the fabric of the contests  . . . and usually remains within the confines of  decency and propriety. "Kill the Ump !" is not a call to mob violence.  Although when I was umpiring high school age recreation league games in the 1970's, there was one particularly obnoxious  fan who constantly criticized my officiating.  I ignored him.  But on the day when within hearing of the boys, he questioned the legitimacy of my parentage in blunt language, I stopped the game, walked back to the  screen and essentially told him that if he felt the need to talk like that in the presence of these kids,  "I feel sorry for you".  I did an about face and  proclaimed "Play Ball! "  At the next game, he came to me and apologized and thereafter there was no disrespect, though he did not always agree with my calls.

    The ears of most officials work well and while many comments are heard, it is essential to remain  oblivious to the criticisms.  A referee or umpire who reacts to the 'noise' is said to have  'Rabbit ears'.  An on-line dictionary defines the term as "acute sensitivity to jibes, insults, sarcasm. . ."

    Whether in officiating athletic events, politics or just 'life', it is important to be open to legitimate feedback which can include complaints and, sometimes, criticisms. 'Complaint' refers to actions, decisions, etc. as contrasted to 'criticisms' which become attacks on the person's very being and character.  And, having made the distinction, it is important to say the obvious:   Mean-spirited, evil persons can and do make wrongful, malicious decisions which prompt legitimate 'criticisms'.  

     Having attained a PhD in American History and having taught that subject  for many years, I know that even George Washington thought he was sometimes treated harshly by the  press.  The same has been true for all subsequent Presidents.  Frequently the feedback aroused public outcries that led to changed policies and/or administrations.  To seek and to hold public office in America has meant being open to public scrutiny of one's self and behaviors.  Too often, many of those same public figures have had finely tuned 'rabbit ears' and  lashed out at their critics in  punitive, less than mature behaviors.

    In  1950,  President Harry Truman replied to a non-complimentary  Washington Post review of his daughter's singing
concert by firing off a petulant letter to the newspaper's reviewer, even suggesting that he would do him bodily harm.  Still, he apparently often said, "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen", showing that he sometimes did not rise to his own standards.  One on-line dictionary alternately translated the phrase as "If you cannot handle the pressure, you should not remain in a position where you have to deal with it."

     "Don't take it personally !" makes no sense to someone with 'thin skin' or 'Rabbit ears' and whose actions are self-serving.  My fraternity brother, Navy Captain (Retired) Ken Sullivan correctly noted, " The bigger the 'rabbit ears' the smaller the confidence, conviction and rightness the rabbit." When there is understandable push-back and public criticisms, the aftermath of retributive reactions and rhetoric serves to demean the necessity of civil  conversations and decisions.  There is a lot of that going 'round these days.

        Satchel