SHU's VIEWS by JIM CARROLL

Previous Columns

- pebbles -

- starfish hunter -

posted 05/08/2008
Depending upon your particular faith, you may believe that there have always been prophets among us. I share that belief, though I tend to find them among the contemporary poets. A truthful disclosure requires admitting that I am something of a cultural slob, and that the "poetry" with which I am most familiar is the work of the late twentieth century and new millennium lyricists. Though I do not have a single favorite, the work of Don Henley often resonates with clarity. His body of work encompasses a "take on things" that often concurs with my own, were I so eloquent. A favorite fragment that was in my head recently was:

"The more I know, the less I understand.
"All the things I thought I'd figured out, I have to learn again.
"I've been trying to get down, to the heart of the matter,
"But my will gets weak, and my thoughts seem to scatter..."

Of course the question he was asking himself repeatedly in this brilliant collaboration with Bruce Hornsby was, "What is the ‘Heart of the Matter'?" This is certainly an important question, especially if you believe there may be a single "best answer!"

Playing on track two of my internal ipod, was another, more pointed bit of Henley:

"So you spend your whole life just pilin' it up there.
"You've got stacks and stacks and stacks.
"Then Gabriel comes and taps you on the shoulder,
"But you don't see no hearses with luggage racks."

Here was another favored theme of the prophets: the impermanence of worldly possessions and concerns. Alas, I am neither poet nor prophet. When I play the tragic character and stare at the skull in my hand, I usually have a smirk on my face and a farce on the screen of my imagination. Hence this week's column:

- practical religion -

She said "Write about religion." I said "No. You can't do that.
‘It's a safer thing to juggle knives, or tease an angry cat!"
"Not religion," she said slowly, "not the Christians, Jews, or Hindus,

"No, but write about the substitutes – the things they're really into!"
And the light began to dawn on me, in writer's revelation:
Very few spend spare time at the church, and none their whole vacation.

So I thought about the places where we spend our time and money.
Wrote it down to share it with you, hoping you might find it funny.
So I trust you will forgive me if I sound like "I'm above it,"
Since the simple truth about that is: If fun's involved, I love it.

Now a lot of folks are "sports nuts" – worship club and bat and ball.
This one might just be the largest congregation of them all!
There's the NBA, the NFL, the Cougars, Ducks, and Yankees.
If your team's on top you're happy, if they're in last place you're cranky!

Check out hunters with their rifles, lockers filled with moose-ground-round.
(These guys must be really rich – can you believe the price-per-pound?)
There's some who will admit it's sport: "To see if we can beat ‘em –
And if by chance we do, then I suppose we oughta eat ‘em!"

Consider next the fisherman, bearing trusted rod and reel,
Wading wintry fonts sub-frigid ‘til his toes no longer feel.
Leaving hearth and home behind, casting lead upon the waters.
He pursues his scaly grail and he forsakes his wife and daughters.

Some folks spend their leisure time devoutly trading and investing
Hoping fervently to "buy while low” and "sell as market's cresting."
Cash itself is nothing evil, but we're told the tricky part is
To remember "Where your treasure lies, is also where your heart is."

Another sect that's huge: the ones that love all things with motors!
Cars and trucks and big RVs, airplane folks and hard-core boaters.
Though the fuel costs are quite daunting (we'll have 10 buck gas ‘fore long)
You could bet that we'd quit driving, but I'd bet your bet was wrong!

We bought crazy-priced "McMansions," sure that prices would keep rising
And we snickered at the caution that our parents kept advising.
Saying sagely: "this can't last," and "please be careful, it's a bubble"
And as usual they were right and now some "kids" are deep in trouble.

Sports and cars and motor homes and real-estate collecting,
Could there be much more important "things" that we've all been neglecting?
Sons and daughters, aunts and uncles, and our sisters and our brothers,
Not the least of which (remember them?) our fathers and our mothers.

Few there are, if there are any, who might hear this incantation,
Who could say that they've escaped all forms of selfish-type temptation.
But admitting we're not perfect, we'll find tolerance above,
If we'll find the time midst sport and play, to generate some love.