My friend died today

My friend John died today.

He’d been hospitalized for a couple months (at least) due to complications from COVID-19. Likely, he was exposed to the virus during a trip from his Texas residence back to his roots in Michigan – traveling through upper Michigan and also portions of Indiana.

Before John was unable to communicate (I understand his last couple weeks were in an induced coma on a respirator), he sent me a note through the Facebook portal:

Well... Still here. This is going to be a long haul, but I have turned the corner. The weekend was Very dicey. Was “prayed over” by a nurse - perhaps my most evangelical moment - and got a miracle. Lots of work ahead, but “rumors of my demise...” This was one trip I’m glad I missed you. You. Don’t. Want. This.

Typical John – expressing concern for me.

I imagine by now, many of those reading this have lost someone or have had a close encounter with the ill effects of the virus. Thus, I don’t pretend to be the first mourner from this pandemic.

My first memory of John was my freshman year at Hillsdale. I earned admission into Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia – a music honorary on campus. Our initiation was held about 30 miles away at another campus so that there would be enough members to sing the ritual. John’s looming bass voice still brings a smile. The heck with the “Three Tenors” . . . give me the one bass voice that I loved.

John and I shared a hometown (Monroe, Michigan) and we’d visit once or twice a year via telephone or over a lunch somewhere in southeast Michigan. John had conquered his problems with alcohol over 25 years ago – I don’t think he’d mind me mentioning this.

John’s passions and talents were for sacred music. He wrote, arranged, directed, sang . . . and had advanced education in this field. Backing up John’s passion were his deep emotional and intellectual connections to his Lutheran faith. Some of my best memories were when we (me - a bit of a fallen Catholic – OK, bit is too mild!) would playfully spar over that discontented monk with a hammer and demands. I so respected John’s connection to his faith.

Good night, John. Godspeed.

I don't "Gotcha"

Ya know, I just got a call. The caller wanted me to know that President Trump mispronounced Yosemite. Okay, got it – he made a mistake.

I remember when President Obama claimed to have visited all “57 states” during his campaign.

President Bush (43) couldn’t pronounce “nuclear” to the satisfaction of detractors.

President Clinton argued that it mattered what one considered the definition of “is” is.

President Bush (41) was chided for never seeing grocery store scanning capability.

President Reagan quipped on a hot mic:  "My fellow Americans, I am pleased to tell you I just signed legislation which outlaws Russia forever. The bombing begins in five minutes."

President Carter admitted: "I've looked on a lot of women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times."

Of course, President Ford drove his golf shots into crowds and fell with some frequency. And, who can forget President Nixon’s famous line, “I am not a crook.”  President Johnson lifted his beagles from their ears and President Kennedy had at least one pretty famous indiscretion. Ike had an awful temper and Harry threatened to beat the crap out of a newspaper critic. Shall I go on?

THEY HAVE ALL SCREWED UP!

Playing “gotcha” doesn’t advance us as a country – it is, of course, a way to sell television and radio advertising and, perhaps, gratify various voters. But, how does it help John/Jane Q. Public muster the resources for his/her family? How does it teach children the value of public service? How will these “gotchas” make us safer? More prosperous? Educate children? Help the downcast?

Okay, sure . . . if one goes into public office, he/she is subject to this granular scrutiny. But how does it help move us forward as a country?

Sigh.

Image reported to be in the public domain and available here:  http://www.clker.com/clipart-681033.html

George Floyd

George Floyd’s death sickens me. 

I, like so many, would like to use the term “murder” – that may ultimately be the determination. I don’t want my prose to be used as an undue influence on a jury (why the news people always say “alleged” in their reporting).

Back to what is known: a police officer knelt on Mr. Floyd’s neck for more than eight minutes while he called out that he couldn’t breathe. He was being detained for potentially passing a counterfeit twenty. Again, he was being detained for potentially passing a counterfeit twenty. From everything I’ve read, he wasn’t armed; he wasn’t violent; he wasn’t a threat to the lives of the police officers.

I do not pretend a visceral understanding of African Americans’ experience in our country and hope that my humble words in this blog post are not insensitive.

I had the chance to work with a gentleman I consider a genius. He was the conductor of the University of Michigan Men’s Glee Club when I was the club’s faculty advisor. Eugene remains a good friend – we gathered this last week (respecting social distance admonishments!) and reflected on our attempts to guide a wonderfully diverse group of undergraduate (and some graduate) males. We laughed at some memories; we celebrated when we did a good job; we recalled lessons learned when we didn’t do so well. We so treasured our time with the club and think (hope?) we equipped these young men to contribute to the world.

Oh, and Eugene is African American. I mention that because race is important to – nay – critical to our current discussion.

While Eugene and I worked together, I asked him if my optimum racial consciousness would be color-blindness. He told me “No – I want you to see me as a black man; I want you to be aware of who I am, what I have experienced, and what I have achieved.”

That was an important lesson. That handed me an onus that I’ve come to welcome and treasure. I’ve tried to gain knowledge and empathy.

So, here we are. More awful instances that dismiss societal racial equality gains that then spark significant (and sadly, often violent) response.

I wish there was an easy way to convert bigots; to rectify prejudice; to advance the human soul.

Let’s all do one thing to counter prejudice each day.

Image credit:  [Adam Berry/Getty Images]