The Beautiful People
I am still learning a lesson from 1979. That is the year that I wrote and published a
nasty little poem entitled, The Beautiful People. It was not one of my shinier moments,
although at the time that I turned it out of the carriage of my Royal portable typewriter
I was quite pleased with it and pleased with myself.
Dr. Bennett, a very published poet in his own right,
and one of my college English professors provided the necessary critique when I
let him read it. “Dan,” he said quite
matter-of-factly, head shake and all, “you’re not old enough to write that kind
of sarcasm.” At first, I took it as a
compliment, thinking that I was writing beyond my years. But, after I left his office and walked down
the four flights of stairs of stairs of Boyle Hall, I began to think less of
what he said, and focus more on how Dr. Bennett made his remark. I especially began to more deeply consider
that head shake. It began to bother me.
The poem was a scathing lambast of some of my fellow
students. I attended a private college
in northeast Wisconsin that attracted the sons and daughters of many who, unlike
me, were not dependent on scholarships of merit and summer jobs to afford tuition. Their parents could afford to just write the
check. It was visibly apparent in their
lack of effort and participation in class that they were just going through the
required motions to obtain a degree.
Many were destined to return home after four years to slot into a
predetermined position in their parent’s business. Today’s crowd would refer to them as the
privileged. I, on the other hand, was
only able to attend this private college because of scholarships and my well-paying
summer job at one of the many local paper mills. So, I considered them fair game for the power
of my pen. That was until Dr. Bennett’s terse,
efficient, and growingly effective response.
I may have successfully pushed The Beautiful People
to some dark corner of my memory, but I made another mistake. I had found several of the literary magazines
that I had been published in when I was a college student in the basement and
brought them upstairs and added them to one of my bookshelves. It wasn’t long before my daughter found the one
that had published The Beautiful People.
She got a good laugh at it. She
laughed at the sarcasm, because she recognized some of the people that she
encountered in college. But more so, she
laughed that her quiet, well-mannered, ordained deacon father was once capable
and willing to write such a piece. Of
course, she quickly shared it with my other three grown children and their
spouses. It felt a bit like public
confession. The whole experience forced
me to consider again what I have learned since my early college years about the
beautiful people:
First, the most necessary step was honest
self-reflection. I have to admit that
much of the sarcasm I aimed at the beautiful people was out of jealousy. It is easy to resent those who seem to have
it easier in life. Maybe it’s social
position, or money, or good looks, or personality, or some other trait that
makes it seem from the outside that others were just destined for success. I had to learn to be happy for the success of
others. Life is not a zero-sum game
where there is a limited amount of blessing.
Someone else’s blessing is not my curse.
It’s easy to tear others down. As a parent and grandparent, I have learned
how difficult it is to help build someone up; as one who has worked with those
in homeless shelters and prisons, I have learned how much more difficult it is to
help build someone back up.
You will always struggle with the two greatest
commandments if your base position does not respect the dignity, value and creative
potential of every single person. That
means every single person.
As a deacon who is required to pray the Divine Office
and the Liturgy of the Hours every day, I have developed an appreciation of the psalms. Some of that has been surprising. There are actually a number of times when the
psalm writer prays for God to punish or even cast out and punish those who are
evil. That is a very human prayer. A Godlier response is to pray for conversion
and salvation of all souls. I try to add
that element whenever I encounter prayers for vengeance in Scripture.
All these lessons are why I do not write sarcasm any
more. They are also why I started writing
these essays for “Embers From the Fire”. It is better to focus of the true and the
beautiful and the good. Nowadays, I try
to make fun of myself. I have found that there is more than enough material to go around!
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
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