My Last Lecture

In the spirit of Prof. Randy Pausch's famous “Last Lecture,” I’ve created my own.  I’m applying for Emeritus, so I hope this post will not be my actual “last lecture.”  But it will be my last one for a while.

Enabling the Dreams of Others

       These first three tips, under Pausch's second heading, come from the lessons I have, for years, given to my writing students.  The first one usually comes up spontaneously in reply to that common question: “Can we use ‘I’?”  The second two are often shared on the first or second of class, and, sometimes, they are written into my Syllabus. 

 1.      Yes, say “I” – Your Voice Matters

       Yes, you can say “I.”  Your voice matters.  Make sure to support your "I" with strong, credible research, but when appropriate, say ”I.”  Your voice matters.

 2.      Rise into a Voice of Power to Make a Difference in this World

       Don’t just aim for the grade you want or for the ability to write well enough to get by.  Rise into a voice of power, and make a difference in this world.  You can do it too, perhaps even soon.  Voices of your own generation – Malala, Greta, Amanda – are all voices of power and making a difference.  You can be one too.

 3.      Writing is Art – Respect it that way

       Always look at your writing as art.  Even when you, the students, don't see your writing as art, I do.  So I never use the color of blood on your writing.  In pencil, I make some comments about the ways that your writing has not yet reached the art that it could, but my goal is to help you become a better artist in your writing.  Meanwhile, make sure you also respect it as art.

 Lessons Learned

        No one has had it easy this past year.  The pandemic has pummeled us all.  Pausch's third and last heading was "Lessons Learned," and these are a few of mine through the pandemic.  This first lesson that I have been learning this year, to take nothing for granted, may be the number one lesson for each one of us.  The field of Education has also been struck hard during this pandemic; and it has been a hard place to be for all of us in Education.  For those of us in vulnerable positions, there has been much to learn.  Here is some of what I have been learning . . .

 4.      Don’t take your blessings or your privileges for granted

       When Barack Obama ran for President in 2008, many blacks complained he was “not black enough.”  What they meant was he was a privileged black; perhaps he had been spared from their injustices.  He probably didn’t “get it.”  So he brought in his wife, Michelle Obama, born and raised in the ghettos of Chicago, who “got it.”  And she helped bring them around, and she persuaded them that her husband was with them.        

        Maybe Barack Obama did "get it."  Maybe it wasn't fair to call him “not black enough.”   But it would have been fair to say I had been “not NTT enough.”  That's the term for us non-tenure track faculty, a second-class status for university instructors, and my department had traditionally protected us.   I was also the main introductory writing instructor for STEM students and well respected by the faculty of two colleges at my university, so I had been largely spared from much of the treatment many of my NTT colleagues had faced.  I had heard about some of it, but I hadn't taken it seriously enough.  I had been privileged.  That changed this year, when I truly learned what it means to be a second-class faculty member.  I discovered the hard way I was “not NTT enough” and had been taking my privileges for granted.

5.      Be careful what you say, when you say, to whom you say, and how you say

        Yes, be a voice of power, but carefully plan your voice.  If you speak too soon, too much, to the wrong person, or in the wrong way, you could lose your voice of power, so carefully plan it.  In some of my classes, we saw a film clip that included a brief statement of a minor character, the wife of one of the main characters.  I said to my students, “Catch what comes next.  She has about fifteen lines in the whole movie.”  Then comes the pivotal line from this minor character, the line that shifts the film into the climax and sets the stage for the hero’s victory.  This critical line comes from a character who speaks few words, but when she speaks, people listen.

        I'm sure we can all agree that we've each been learning the hard way through this pandemic to carefully plan our words. This has been a year when it has been very challenging for me to know what to say, when to say, to whom to say, and how to say it.  My own communication skills have been tested this year like they have never before been tested in my life.  Sometimes I did well, and sometimes, I did not do so well.  Sometimes, I was missing #4: I was taking my privileges for granted.  I thought I should have them, and I thought everyone would agree with me on that.  It turns out not everyone did.  I made some mistakes.  Do your research, take your time, and be careful. 

6. Have Integrity and follow your own Path

          Be careful, yes, but be brave too.  At times, living into your integrity and following your own path will take bravery.  It might cost you a lot.  You might lose your job, you might lose some friends, but you’ll keep your heart, soul, and spirit in-tact, and nothing matters more.  So be brave, have integrity, and follow the path laid out for you.

7.      See the Famous Last Lecture

       If you haven’t yet had a chance to see Pausch's famous Last Lecture, watch it.  Be inspired.  Rise into a voice of power.  And always remember, your voice matters.

 © 2021 by Karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use with permission and/or a link to this blog post.

That's a Lot on your Plate

 Pete’s University Café, Denver, CO, May 12, 2012

             “I got scorned, Ethan.”  The two friends are waiting for their lunch at a well-worn wooden booth at the charming Pete’s University Café; it looks like a used bookstore from the outside and a 1950s bakery from the inside.  David, known by his closest friends as Davie, has driven up to Denver from his home in Colorado Springs, where he serves as a youth pastor, to meet with his mentor, Ethan, for whom he interned when Ethan was a senior pastor. 

From their prior meeting in March, Ethan, now a Hebrew professor at the University of Colorado, has already heard David’s story: the elders at his church had kicked out a young woman named Jasmine, also David’s mixed doubles partner, from church after the two, both married to other people, shared a kiss.  They had each come to the elders for accountability, but instead of providing it, the elders kicked her out of church.  Ethan fumes that David’s church leaders can’t read their Bible straight, but he’s not surprised.  It’s why he left the ministry. 

            Davie continues by flipping his hand away in imitation of one elder: “‘Let it go, David; she’ll be all right.”  And another said, “She’s better off getting a fresh start at a new church where you’re not.”  The meeting ended with the senior pastor’s authoritative command: “David, your job is to get yourself and your own marriage back on track.  Let her do the same elsewhere.”  Then he transitioned to his new campaign idea to bring new people into church. 

            Ethan shakes his head at the irony and is relieved a pause for his reply has arrived with the server who brings their lunches, a Gyros sandwich for Ethan and Pete’s Grecian Platter for Davie, which is piled high with lamb, chicken, and beef in the middle of the platter, topped with red and white onions, a generous portion of French fries on one side, and steamed broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower on the other, along with a side plate of pita bread.  “That’s a lot on your plate, David.” 

            “Loaded up, like my life.”  Davie laughs.  “How am I going to eat all of this?” 

            “One bite at a time.  And don’t eat it all now.  Carry some of it away with you.” Wasting no time, Ethan asks which entrée of life his friend might want to discuss first: his marriage with Pam, ministry, church, friendship with Jasmine, or Jasmine herself. 

            “Also a lot on my plate!” Davie chuckles.  “How about all of it?  Maybe Jasmine?  I can’t get her out of my mind, nor can I stop worrying about her.  But I also worry about my job, my ministry and my church that feels like it’s heading off course.  They want to grow, but they’re kicking people out?” 

            “Welcome to the world of church politics, David.  How about your marriage?  Are you thinking about it too?”

            “Of course.  I love Pam and don’t want to hurt her.” 

            “You’ve just hit on what really matters.” 

            “Yes, I know.”  Davie takes a sip of water, wondering how to transition into what else is bothering him.  He sets the glass back down.  It hits the tabletop with a slight bang.  He looks at it startled.  “Pam wants kids.” 

            “That ups the ante.”  

            Davie takes another sip of water, this time slowly, carefully placing his glass back down.  

          “Children have to be your top priority," Ethan continues.  "Clearly, it would have been better if you had seriously asked this question before saying, ‘I do,’ but it’s also better to do so now than once kids are in the picture.  Are you prepared to commit for the long haul?” 

            Davie confides that he is not sure and adds that he has never admitted to Pam that he regrets letting Pam pursue him back in college, when his eyes were on Jenny, a mutual friend of theirs, with whom neither is still in contact.  He clarifies that his mind no longer returns much to Jenny, but his regret clouds his commitment to Pam.  “I took the easy road to romance, and now I have a hard road.” 

“You do, because you said, ‘I do.’” 

The “if onlies” are plaguing the youth pastor.  If only he had taken the risk to date Jenny before he let Pam pursue him, or if only he could risk dating Jasmine now, then he might move from the safety of Pam to the vibrancy, then, of Jenny, and now, of Jasmine. 

“Would you say you’re drawn to Jasmine more because of your love for Jasmine, or for what might be missing with Pam?” 

That’s a question Davie’s been asking much of himself.  He acknowledges that Pam brings him comfort, security, laughs, and some fun times.  “But Jasmine is spirited, smart, digs deep into stuff that matters that most people won’t touch; she’s not pushy, demanding or dull.  No matter what the elders think, Ethan, she’s not on my mind just because I find her physically attractive – which I do – but also because I love who she is.” 

            “And the elders want you to put her out of your mind and heart?” 

            “Right, and I can’t do it.” 

            “We humans should not be repressing what’s in our hearts.  Although we need to be careful with how we respond to our feelings, our feelings themselves are not wrong.  Christians don’t get this, so they try to train anger, fear, shame, jealousy, and lust out of their hearts.  They even try to train love out of their hearts, making them physically sick, perhaps even preparing for a premature death.” 

“Wow.  Then it’s ok for me to love Jasmine?” 

            “Sure.  Suffocate your heart, and you’ll make yourself sick.  Condemn your heart, and it will turn against you.”  From his pastoral days, Ethan has learned that those who insist on their religion’s dogmas of morality will follow one of two paths, both rooted in repression.  The first route leads to indulgence and the second to sickness. 

            For an example of the first, he points to the Catholic priest pedophiles.  Condemning themselves for their sexual desires, they forced themselves into fake asceticism and repressed their sexuality so much that they didn’t stop at rape with adult women.  They went after children.  They repressed hard and fell hard. 

Meanwhile, Ethan explains, the continued repression route desensitizes you, reduces your compassion, possibly increases your tendency to judge, stunts your growth, and welcomes miseries into your body. 

 “So what should we do instead?” 

“Let yourself feel what you feel, and ask the Holy Spirit to give you strength and show you your path.  Don’t assume that what you feel for Jasmine means that you are supposed to be with her.  But don’t restrict yourself from that possibility either, especially now.”  Ethan pauses to smile at his former intern.  “Before you have kids.” 

Davie nods, sighs, and says he’s conflicted.  

Affirming that David would naturally be conflicted, Ethan shares another insight from his work in pastoral marriage counseling.  “We shouldn’t say half of all marriages ‘fail.’  Maybe half of them ‘end,’ but not all of them ‘failed.’  Some of them ‘succeeded.’”  

            In response to David’s quizzical look, Ethan tells the story of the couple who taught him this.  They led Bible studies together, grew those studies, and even trained the new leaders of their off-shoot groups, so Ethan was stunned when they came to him for marriage counseling.  They had accomplished so much, were expecting their first grandchild, and needed marriage counseling?  One of them was growing in new ways and contemplating a conversion to Catholicism, something the other partner could not imagine doing.  After months of counseling, it appeared both partners had begun different paths, both right for each of them, but not complementary together.  Eventually, they came to the sentiment that they could grow better apart, and then Ethan helped them with their next task: communicating this to their children, including to their youngest in college and their oldest, who was pregnant.  The couple divorced, but remained friends. 

“Success, of course, comes through plenty of time learning how to love and communicate, which this couple did,” Ethan continues.  “But it was helping couples like this that got me into trouble.  We know what Jesus told the selfish, proud, cold-hearted Pharisees of the first century about divorce.  But we don’t know what Jesus would tell each of us in the 21^st.” 

            “I bet people try to tell you Jesus’ words are timeless.” 

            “Even Jesus considered his teachings for the ‘Age;’ Matthew said he spoke to the people in parables and reserved his deepest teachings for his closest disciples; and he spoke sternly to one group only: the proud religious leaders.” 

            “I agree, but it does complicate our life decisions, doesn’t it?  When we’re conflicted between the many entrées on our life plate, what do we do?” 

            “The million-dollar question.  There is no easy answer.  First, allow the conflict within you. Don't deny it, but learn from it, as it may be like the pearl in an oyster that shows you something remarkable about your true self.” 

            A pearl.  Davie likes the image: the pearl emerges out of the oyster’s suffering.  Perhaps he shouldn’t feel so guilty or so much angst that he has this conflict within him. 

            “Be patient, as clarity takes time to come,” Ethan continues.  “For now, listen to your heart and let it teach you: what are you discovering about yourself through your inner conflict?” 

            “How can I figure that out?” 

“Allow the Holy Spirit to show you within your heart, and then confirm it with the signs, the synchronicities, and the forms of Nature.  I believe this is what Jesus meant when he said, ‘I only do what I see My Father in Heaven doing.’” 

            “You make it sound so easy!” 

            “Sorry, it isn’t, and it takes much patience.  If you are patient, the Spirit will confirm or deny your inner truth, or perhaps grant more patience into you with a promise your inner conflict will be revealed in its proper time.  It’s not at all easy, David.  Those who learn to clearly discern the signs the Spirit gives them usually go through a crisis first.  This could be yours.” 

            Taking a deep breath, the youth pastor agrees to try.  Then he returns to where he and Ethan started on his loaded plate of life.  “What about finding a way to see Jasmine again?” 

            “Try to do the same.  Watch the signs and the synchronicities.  Trust the Spirit to guide you, and when the time is right, a renewed connection with her will become clear to you.”

© 2021 by Karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use only with permission and/or a link to this blog.

Continue to Life Giver, Life Saver, Life Force 

Continue to Davie's 3rd conversation with Ethan

Return to Davie's 1st conversation with Ethan 

Today's Turbulence Spirals back to Transcending Trials

Dear Readers, 

Today is the last day of March, and I have not yet posted this month’s installment of Just like Eve, another conversation between Davie and Ethan that I started drafting a couple of months ago.  (I like Ethan so much, I decided I have to bring him back.)  But in this tumultuous of all months, I haven’t finished it.  So, in order to show a post for this month, I’ll spiral back to Transcending Trials.  This spiral back will be brief, because right now, I feel like I’m lying dead before the Tree of Life. 

As I thought I had shared in Transcending Trials, but did so better in the final part of In the Beginning, most Christians think the Tree of Life is forbidden, and most people, regardless of their religion or non-religion, live as if it is.  Why?  Well, according to the Myth, it is guarded by two angels with flaming swords.  Pretty terrifying.  That makes it look like it must be forbidden, right?  It isn’t.  You just need to face those angels with flaming swords and not run away from them. 

I’ve been discovering what it takes to do that.  Integrity.  Integrity is not at all easy.  Either you must bravely live out your integrity (and make some enemies for it), or you must deny yourself the chance to live it out and, instead, creatively sublimate your integrity into art.  In both cases, metaphorically but also in some very real ways, you have to die.  You might even face a perfect storm of varying forces within your life and have to hold true to your integrity in both ways, then die in many ways all at once. 

If you crawl deep inside yourself and discover your truth within yourself – and it takes many painful years to do this, by the way – and you commit to living into this true Self, you are going to meet those angels with flaming swords.  You might discover they represent your religion, or your family, or your culture, or all three, and you will have to break their rules in order to live into your True Self.  They are likely to punish you for that.  You might die.  But guess what?  You have met those angels with flaming swords.  And they also have the power to resurrect you.  I have to trust that, because I haven’t been resurrected yet, but that is the truth of the Myth. 

You might also discover that you have to die to what you’ve found to be true in your heart so that you can show love to everyone else.  Does this mean you bury it? Pretend it’s not there?  No, that’s not integrity.  No, you keep your truth, and you sublimate it into something beautiful.  Like an alchemist, you transform it into gold.   Like an artist, you create it into art.  You throw a little of yourself into a great cauldron, then the sources of inspiration from above throw in a little of this and a little that from outside of you – you don’t know where it came from, but there it is – then you boil it and stir it up, and throw a little more in, and the heavens throw a little more in too, and then you boil it up hotter and stir it up faster, and poof!  Magic!  You have just created art. 

To determine which is the right path – living into your integrity or sublimating it into art – depends on your love for your Self and your love for others’ Selves.  Notice this is not about coddling egos or lessening people’s fears; it’s about love for your Selves. Sometimes, you live into your integrity, even though it will hurt egos, but it will uplift Selves, because honesty ignites evolution.  Other times, you have to creatively sublimate your inner truth into an artistic form. 

Sometimes, in the space of a very short time, in different parts of your life, you find yourself doing all of this.  In one or more parts of your life, you live out your integrity, and you get punished for it.  In another part of your life, you creatively sublimate.  And when you've done this, you might find yourself like you are lying dead before the Tree of Life, and you have to trust that those angels will resurrect you. 

My daughter – a teen far, far wiser than her years – says there is only one place to go from here: Up.  Yes.  And here’s the surprising thing: it is harder to walk toward those angels with flaming swords than it is to be struck by them.  In some ways, the swords are a relief.  You’ve finally faced them; they’ve pierced you; the worst is over; in that alone, you have some relief. 

On this last day of March, I am meeting my goal of a post every month, so I must have moved up from that lying dead pose at least to my knees.  And one day, I will stand.  But I am not standing yet.  At some moment in the future, I trust that I will spiral back to this post to share the rest of a story that is to be continued . . .

Spiral back to Transcending Trials and In the Beginning, Part 5

© 2021 by karina.  Please use with permission and/or a link to this blog.

Dessert

 May 5, 2012, Grill House Bar

“Chocolate Brownie, Chocolate Mousse, French Silk Pie, Chocolate Ice cream Sundae.  Which would you like, Jazzie?”  Mindy lets her mouth water over the dessert menu.

“Anything chocolate is good with me.  This is your enchanted evening, my friend.  You choose.”  Jasmine and Mindy sitting down at the Grill House Bar after having just seen Mindy’s new love interest, Tony, playing the lead in South Pacific, and are closing their night out with dessert.

A waitress in black pants and a burgundy button-down blouse, tucked in at the front and hanging out loose at the back, arrives to take their order.  Mindy orders the Chocolate Ice cream Sundae with two spoons.  Jasmine nods her thanks and the waitress takes leave.

“I wish dessert with my husband could be this easy,” Jasmine sighs.

“What do you mean?”

“Like you and me, Tim and I also share dessert, but he usually chooses, and I am changing.”

“Go on.”

“Tim and I managed the impossible last month: a real date.  We went to the Mountain View.”

“Oooo,” Mindy’s eyes light up.  “That upscale, romantic one at Cheyenne Mountain?”

“That’s the one,” Jasmine smiles.  “And the evening began magical.  Tim opened my car door, pulled out my chair, and kissed my hand.”

“Men still do that?”

“I know, right?” Jasmine glows.  “He hadn’t for a long time.  Ah, the gentleman came back!” Jasmine pauses to smile, recalling the chivalry that won her heart.

“What went wrong?”

“Nothing at first.  It started so romantic.  The linen napkins were folded into swans and a live pianist was playing classic romantic hits, mostly from the 70s and early 80s.  Kenny Rogers, John Denver, Barry Manilow, Lionel Richie.  We even had a gorgeous view of the mountains at sunset.  The sky had burst into red, orange, and purple.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“It was, at first.” Jasmine takes a deep breath.  “Until dessert.  Have you noticed the more upscale the place, the fewer the choices?”

Mindy nods.

“That’s the Mountain View.  We had only two choices: rum cake and a chocolate brownie with ice cream on top.  Should be easy, right?”

“Chocolate brownie, of course.”

“Exactly.  I knew immediately, so I did a quick glance at the menu and passed it to Tim.  He deliberated.  I decided to help. ‘So, whatd’ya’ think?  Rum cake, oooooor the chocolate brownie?’”

Mindy chuckles at Jasmine’s overtly obvious hint.

“Tim mumbled he didn’t care and said maybe the rum cake.”

“What did you do with that?”

“Rolled my eyes and got mad.  Tim’s my archer and usually decisive.  I’ve been the ‘whatever you like’ partner, letting him decide.  But this time, I had no doubt, so I pressed him. ’You don’t care?’  He said, ’Nah.  It’s a romantic evening.  Sounds like rum cake.’  I told him that makes sense if you like rum cake.  You’ll love what he said next, Mindy.”

“Well,” Jasmine begins, lowering her voice an octave and trying to mimic her husband, “Everyone likes rum cake.  It’s part of the American cuisine.  You know: Mom, the flag, meat and potatoes, apple pie and rum cake?’

Mindy chuckles.  “I didn’t know that.” 

“I didn’t either.  Mom, the flag, and rum cake?” Jasmine joins Mindy in a belly laugh.   “It’s good I can laugh about this now.  I couldn’t then.  I kept pressing him that he didn’t seem to care, yet I did, so why didn’t he care enough about me to care what I think?  He said I wasn’t making a decision.   I was starting to burst, so I said too loud, ’Passing the menu is a simple way of saying I’ve already decided!’  Oh, Mindy, when I said that, so loud, all the background noise in the restaurant came to a halt into silence.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah,” Jasmine sighs.  “But I was still mad, so I clenched my teeth and asked him in a whisper, why not say, ‘Either one is fine with me, darling, which one would you like?’  So he did, with extra juice to his own voice, and I, once again, emphasized chocolate.”

Mindy nods and smiles, clearly amused by her friend’s attempt to reach her husband.

“Tim asked why I had to make it a game of it.  I said it’s not a game, it’s a relationship. He said it felt like a game and that it sounded like I wanted to make the decision.  I said only if I cared more, so he asked if he had pulled out the trumpets and did a dance in favor of rum cake, might I have gone with rum cake?”

Mindy smiles, curious. “Would you have?” 

“I told him I might have, but he had studied the menu so long he must not care as much as I do, and the person who cares most should have a stronger say in the matter.”

With a nod, Mindy teasingly chuckles, “So maybe pull out the trumpets?”

“The problem is I’ve spent twenty years stopping those trumpets.  They’ve been crushed since I was eleven.”

“You’ve never really been given the chance to have your own opinions, have you?  So you can’t just say you want the chocolate brownie?”

            “I think that’s it.  So I used to like that Tim’s decisive.  And I used to not care if he chose different from me.  Now I care, and I want him to listen and care about what I want.”

After another pause, Jasmine shakes her head.  “It was just a decision about dessert, a moment so simple, so seemingly small, yet it opened up a floodgate.”

The waitress arrives with a large silver bowl swimming over with chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, walnuts, and two cherries and places it in the center of the table, along with a small platter and spoon to each friend.  Mindy eyes are wide. “It’s good we’re sharing.”

After a few spoonfuls, Mindy takes another spoon into her mouth and holds it there. “Do you think Tim will start listening to you?”

“Maybe.  Like I said at Intermission, he’s willing to listen, willing to be challenged, and he not closed, but he’s also not the open, thinking at odds type either.”

“Can you still think at odds, even if he doesn’t?”

“Maybe.  But can I be the real me with him?”

“Big question.”

“I know.  I’ve changed since I fell for Tim.  To fall for him again, I’d either need to return to who I used to be, and don’t want to be anymore, or he’d have to become someone new himself.”

“Why would he have to become new?”

“He’d have to be okay with arrows all over the target.  I’m letting myself think at odds again, so I’m not hitting bulls-eyes.”

“Do you think Tim can flex with that?”

Jasmine smiles, amused.  “You think the Church can flex with that?”

Mindy chuckles.  “Maybe I’m naïve.  Remember, I’m Presbyterian.”  With an arm, shoulder, and neck wave, she delightfully adds, “We flex!”

Trying to mimic Mindy’s arm wave, Jasmine chuckles, “I’m too stiff for that!”

“Keep working it, Girl.  You’ll loosen up!” Mindy, giggling, stands up for a full body arm, shoulder, ribs, hip, and neck wave.

The four diners at the next table over, appearing to be in their mid-20s and on a double date, cheer her on.  One of the young men, brown-haired, pipes up.  “You’ve got the moves!”  With a chuckling blush, Mindy bows to them and sits down.

Jasmine laughs.  “I’ve got a ways to go before I can do that!”

“Maybe you just need to convert to Presbyterian!” Mindy laughs.

“Maybe I do!”  Jasmine’s belly is now bursting in her laughter.

The friends calm down their laughs, breathe, and each take a sip of water.  Mindy swirls a spoon of ice cream through her mouth, recalling a previous Girls’ Day Out.  “Didn’t you say something about the Bible saying Eve was cursed to long for her man?  So is this a good thing?  Maybe you’re not cursed anymore?”

“I would love to believe I’ve mastered Eve’s curses!”  Jasmine laughs.  Crossing her arms around her chest in smug position, she adds, “I won’t even have pain in childbirth!”

“Go you!”

“I do long for Davie,” Jasmine smiles sheepishly.  “Don’t cheer me on yet.” 

“Have you seen him since you were ‘ex-communicated’?”

“No, not at all.  It’s been three months.  It’s torture.  You know when the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians about how much he longed for them?  We aren’t meant to be separated.  Does the church realize the harm it does by ordering the severance of a friendship?”

“It’s cruel.”  Mindy groans.  “I can’t imagine the Bible actually encourages such a thing.  And it violates the Natural Law that everything and everyone are connected.”  Mindy shakes her head in disbelief.  “How are you doing?”

“I’m tortured.  Tortured, but learning.  You’re right.  I haven’t found anything in the Bible that supports this order, and even the verse that was used against me to support it was not only taken out of context, it skipped the rest of the verse that supports maintaining contact and friendship.  It was 2 Timothy 2:22.  Do you catch all those twos?  Two-gether.  We are to be two people to find harmony two-gether.  We can still do the first part of the verse, to flee the lust, while also doing the second part of the same verse, to pursue a righteous relationship.”

“Are you going to do anything about it?”

“Maybe.  For now, I’m learning and praying.  I’m also praying that Davie will take that up.  He’s on staff at the church.  Will he do anything about it?”

Continue to That's a Lot on your Plate

Return to Opening Night 

© 2021 by karina.  All rights reserved.  Please use with permission or a link to this post.

Opening Night

 Pikes Peak Center for the Performing Arts, May 5, 2012

             “Not that row,” Jasmine whispers.  She and Mindy are walking down the dark tan carpet of the right side aisle of the main ground floor auditorium.  “That guy’s wearing a cowboy hat.”

             “You think he’ll take it off before the show begins?”

             “I hope so.  We’re always told to silence our phones.  Do they tells us to remove our hats too?”

             “They should.  He’s too far back for us anyway.  Tony said we should sit at the right front.”

             “Too bad we can’t sit up there!”  Jasmine, wide-eyed, points up to the half moon shaped balconies in rich red maple.

             “That would be fun, and a little more comfortably further back.  I don’t want to be too close.  Fifth row?”        

            Jasmine nods, and the friends find open seats; they’re cushioned, spacious, with generous leg room and the complement the carpet in dark tan, while the red maple wood seat backs complement the balconies.  As Mindy sits, she takes a deep breath.

             “Nervous?”

             Mindy nods.  “I feel like I do when I am on stage, not in the audience like tonight.  I’m even feeling the Opening Night butterflies.”

 “Breathe, Mindy, and enjoy watching Tony in South Pacific,” Jasmine coaches. Have you seen him since he sang to you on your birthday?”

             “Twice.”

             “Really?  Colorado Springs is a small world. Twice?”

             “I was bold,” Mindy blushes.  “I asked Kristina to join me for lunch at Crave Real Burgers, hoping he’d be there.”

             “And?”

             “He was.  He looked at the hostess and nudged his head over to one of his tables.  When he arrived with our waters, he asked, ‘How are Mindy and her friend doing today?’”

             “He remembered your name.  Good sign.”

             “On our way out, he rubbed against my arm and whispered into my ear, ‘Are you coming to’ then he pulled back and sang, ‘some enchanted evening’?”  Mindy leans in to Jasmine.  “He has a voice.  Could that be his part?”

             “You don’t know?  Let’s see.”  Jasmine pulls out her program to the Cast list, grins, and passes it to Mindy, while pointing to the top line: “Emile: Tony Bandara.”

             “Damn, are we reading that right?”

             “I think so,” Jasmine chuckles.  “When was the next time you saw him?”

             “Last week.  By fluke.”

             “By synchronicity.”

             “Synchronicity?”

             “Divine coincidence.  You were supposed to see him.”

             “Divine coincidence?  We ran into each other at the gas station.” Mindy chuckles.  “Could that be divine?”

             “Why not?!”  The two friends laugh. 

“While we were both pumping gas, he asked if I’ve eaten any food as ‘delicious’ as the food he serves, and he lingered on the word, ‘delicious.’  I played along, imitated his linger on ‘delicious,’ and asked how it could be possible to have eaten food as ‘delicious’ as his.”

             “Bold again.”

             “Yeah, and it seems to be paying off. That’s when he said we should sit on the front right.” 

The lights dim, and the trumpets of the orchestra shout the audience into attention.  The trumpets are joined with cymbals, then trombones, and then the bold percussion of timpani joins the trumpets, cymbals, and trombones to open the overture in power.  A chorus of violins emerge; they slow; they dim; cellos are added; flutes come in; then the violins break forth again to lead the full orchestra to into the show’s classic, “Some Enchanted Evening.”

 * * * * *

            Costuming for South Pacific, set during World War II, is simple, with most of the male characters in Navy costumes.  Those playing the Pacific Islanders wear more interesting costumes, including grass skirts, in the bright colors of yellow, purple, red, and bright green.  Bloody Mary’s attire is the most colorful, with a purple and yellow blouse, a green and orange skirt, and a beaded necklace of red, blue, yellow, green, and purple beads.  Her hair is pulled up in a bun and wrapped in an equally colorful scarf, accentuated in purple, yellow, and red.  On anyone else, the attire would clash, but on Bloody Mary, it’s just right.  She wears her colors confidently, and she shines.

             Lead character, Emile, an officer, played by Tony, is dressed quite the opposite, in basic khaki pants and a white, button down, short sleeved shirt.  Nellie, the show’s heroine, a naval nurse, is wearing a straight navy skirt that comes down about half way between her knees and her ankles, and a V-neck white blouse tucked in.

             In the third scene, at an evening dance party at the local pub, Emile meets Nellie and asks her to dance.  They dance a brisk and brilliant Charleston, dancing like they’ve been partners for years; they laugh; they dance slow and close; they meet one another’s eyes, and they fall in love.  Rogers and Hammerstein style.  Just like that.  In one enchanted evening.

             Jasmine thinks back to the time when she fell for her husband Tim.  They were both summer camp counselors, and Jasmine recalls doubting herself.  Could she be up to the task?  I can do this, I can do this. I can do this, she kept telling herself.  She must have been muttering it aloud too.  When she sat down for orientation at the campfire, Tim came up, pointed to the spot next to her and asked if it was free.  She nodded; he leaned over and whispered, ‘You can do this.’  Jasmine blushed.  ‘It’s OK,’ he said, and asked if it was her first summer.  She nodded and he said it was his second.  He introduced himself and then said, ‘The counselors have almost as much fun as the kids – and we get paid.’  He grinned wide.  Jasmine was taken.

             Her memory is interrupted when Tony’s booming voice bellows out his famous lyric, “Some enchanted evening, when you find your true love.”  He’s at center stage singing to Nellie, then gaits toward the audience’s right, stands in front of Mindy and sings to her, “Once you’ve found her, never let her go.”

 Jasmine looks over to her blushing friend, chuckles, and passes Mindy the program.  “Here, put this in front of your face.”

 * * * * *

            Emile and Nellie are sitting at a small, circular, wooden patio table, and the backdrop set shows the Pacific in the background with the sun setting.  Two Pacific Island children, a boy and a girl, about seven and ten, bring out drinks on a round tray, carrying the tray first to Nellie, then to Emile, to take their own drinks.  Emile introduces Nellie to the children as his own, the children of his wife who has passed on, and then the children depart. 

With a ghost white face, Nellie pulls away from Emile.  He pulls her back and tells her he loves her.  “I love you too, I really do!” she cries.  “Please let me go!” she cries out as she breaks away and runs off stage. 

Emile is left sitting at the table alone.  Jasmine’s heart falls as she feels his heartbreak, and the audience is left in suspense with their hero, as the curtain closes for Intermission.

 * * * * *

             “How could she leave like that?” Mindy asks, astonished.

             “’You’ve got to be carefully taught,’” Jasmine tries to sing.

             “You mean, ‘You’ve got to be carefully taught’?” Mindy sings, then chuckles.

             “You are the singer between us, Mindy!  What a song. Can you sing more of it?”

             Mindy begins the chorus from the start:

"You've got to be taught

to hate

and fear

You've got to be taught

From year to year

It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear

You've got to be carefully taught

You've got to be taught

to be afraid

of people

whose eyes are oddly made

and people whose skin is a different shade

You've got to be carefully taught."

             Jasmine shudders.  The two friends pause in silence.

             Turning reflective, Jasmine whispers to Mindy, “Though it wasn’t about racism, my family seemed to think we had to be ‘carefully taught.’  Did you know my family mocked me for ‘thinking at odds’?”

             “You’ve mentioned this before.  What did they mean by that?”

             “I guess that my mind raced passed the Church.  I was that troublesome middle child, who kept ‘thinking at odds.’  I was mocked for it since 5^th grade, until I shut up, forcing myself to ‘think at evens.’”

             “When did you do that?”

             “By high school.  I think it happened slowly.  Without realizing it, before I knew it, I was giving away the real me.  I let myself be ‘carefully taught,’” Jasmine sighs.  “Part of me died then, and I didn’t even know it.”

             “It’s good you’re coming alive again.” 

“It took a while.  I was still trying to ‘think at evens’ when I found Tim.  Did I ever tell you how he won me over?”

             Mindy shakes her head.

             With the memory still fresh in her head, Jasmine relays the day Tim began teaching her archery.   “He drew me close into his own body, and I took a breath.  He must have noticed, since he said, ‘It’s OK, I won’t hurt.  Stand right in front of me and we’ll do this together.’ Tim picked up the bow and told me to turn to the left.  He was standing so close I could feel his warmth and smell his aftershave.  He lifted my left hand, placed the bow into it and held both the bow and my left hand.  Then, with his right hand, he picked up the arrow, lifted my right hand, placed the bow into it, and used my own fingers to draw the arrow into the bow string.  I felt it like it was in slow motion.   While holding both of my hands and most of my right arm, Tim said, ‘Now simply observe how this feels as we aim for the target.’”

             Jasmine chuckles.  I remember thinking, “I observe very well how this feels!”

             Mindy smiles.

             “Then he said, ‘Now observe how it feels to release the arrow.’  The arrow flew strong, perfectly straight, and into the center.  ‘You just shot a bulls-eye!’ I cried out.  ‘We just shot a bulls-eye,’ he replied, then said, ‘We make a great team!’  I looked into his eyes and smiled big. Tim shook my hand, said, ‘Well done, my friend,’ and smiled back.”

             “Cool story, Jazzie.  Does Tim get credit for your great tennis aim?”

             “He should, yes.  Too bad he won’t pick up the sport.  He says it messes with his baseball game and he has enough sports with archery, baseball, and skiing.”

             “How about that spark that drew you in?  Do you still have it with him?”

             “We don’t hit the target as much these days.  He thinks like a good archer, trying to shoot a bulls-eye with his beliefs.  Mine are so complicated that I can’t get my thinking arrows to even hit a target, let alone a bulls-eye. He mostly follows the Church.  Thankfully, not as much as Mom and Dad.  Tim’s not closed.  He’s just not open.”

             “What do you mean?  He’s not ‘closed,’ but he’s also not ‘open.’  What is he then?”

             “He’s not closed to new ideas; he just doesn’t come up with any himself.  He mostly accepts whatever he was raised to believe and only challenges whatever he’s challenged on.  At least when he is, he’s willing to re-consider.”         

“You’re starting to challenge everything, though.  What made you start doing that again?”

             “Davie.  He thinks like me, the real me.  He goes against a lot of what he was raised with.  Not everything.  He became a youth pastor.  But many of his beliefs are unique in his family, and he stays confident in them.  He’s not defensive when people disagree with him, like I am.  He doesn’t try to force himself to think at evens.”

             The lights dim; the orchestra begins to play; the two friends quiet themselves.

 * * * *  *

             Just after Nellie ”washes that man right out of her hair,”  Emile finds her walking alone along the beach.  “It was you, Nellie, that I’ve been waiting for,” he says, declaring his love and then asks her to marry him.  Nellie breaks into song:

 “Born on the opposite sides of the sea

We are as different as people can be

It’s true

And yet you want to marry me”

             Emile sings, “I do.” 

Nellie solos again, 

“I’ve known you for a few short weeks and yet

Somehow you’ve made my heart forget

All other men I have ever met

Who can explain it?

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons

Wise men never try”

             The solo shifts to Emile singing, “One enchanted evening.”  

Once he departs, Nellie sings her brave choice to let herself be mocked, because she “is in love with a wonderful man.”

 * * * * *

             The audience finds the show a hit and stands in ovation.  Mindy clasps her hands together.  “I’m glowing.”

             “Yeah, you’re red too,” Jasmine teases.

             “Uh oh.  I’d better change that before we congratulate the performers.”

             “Breathe, Mindy, breathe.”

             “Ok, I’m breathing.  Time to get my mind back on the show.”

             Trying to help, Jasmine says, “In perfect theater, the heroine is redeemed.” 

“She is.  We watched Tony on Opening Night, and we watched Nellie open her mind.”

             Jasmine smiles.  “Love can do that.”

 

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