Tag Archives: Superman

Chief

Chief: (n) a leader or ruler of a people or clan.

I’m about to date myself. (I sure hope I bring me flowers…)

What I mean is, I’m going to make reference to something–and anyone born after the millennium will have no idea what I’m talking about.

Long, long ago on a planet not so far away, there was a T.V. show called Superman. Yes, the Superman we’re all familiar with.

But this was low-budget, shot in black and white, with a Superman who had to hold his stomach in a lot.

The editor of the newspaper, you may remember, was Perry White. He was constantly plagued by a young cub reporter named Jimmy Olson. (Now, if you remember any of this, you’re either a big superhero geek, or you’ve just been dated, too.)

Jimmy Olson aggravated Perry White by calling him “Chief.” Perry White would bark at him, “Don’t call me Chief!”

It was a bit of comic relief in a show that needed some relief from somewhere.

But as I think about it today, we may desperately be in need of people who don’t want to be called “chief.” We come up with all sorts of synonyms and titles for jobs that make individuals feel they are important and powerful. We seem obsessed with the notion that even though we’re human, somehow or another–at least occasionally–we’re omnipotent.

We want to dominate. We want to control. We want to be respected, revered and maybe even feared.

We’ve lost the awareness that power merely brings responsibility. Somehow or another, we think being called “chief” requires less of us instead of more. I don’t know how we arrived at this–I guess it’s the notion that if we can order underlings around, we need never do anything ourselves, because even if they fail, we have someone to blame.

In the process, we’ve lost a valuable piece of humanity: the desire to serve.

You see, if we serve, that would make us “servers,” which means we’re hustling for tips instead of owning the restaurant.

Somewhere along the line, we need to sprout a new crop of leaders who have gained their prowess by learning how to be of service to others.

Otherwise we will continue to have ignorant chiefs who don’t understand the product, but are in charge of the board meeting.

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Butterfingers

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Butterfingers: (n) a clumsy person, especially one who fails to hold a catch

It was a perfect early summer day.

I was of an age when virility still oozed from my being and I was the father of children who were old enough that playing with them was fun.

We had joined with a couple of other families to go to the park. We did races, played some basketball and even tried some silly little mind twister games.

Allowing for a bit of humility, I dominated in every category. My kids were convinced that their dad had skipped the entire step of posing as Clark Kent, and had merely exposed himself as Superman.

Then someone suggested baseball.

I hate baseball. I don’t like to watch it; I don’t like to play it. I could probably go into vivid detail about how the game moves at such a snail’s pace that your muscles have time to relax, only to be alarmed once again with the arrival of activity.

So I placed myself in the position of pitching the softball. Within eight or nine throws, I was pretty proficient. I batted pretty well, too–even though I had a tendency to over-swing at the ball, grounding out. But I picked up a couple of singles and one double. It looked like I was going to survive the horror of the great American sport with my “Man of Steel” profile intact.

Then here comes kryptonite. Yes–the stuff that turns Superman into a jellyfish.

It was the last pitch of the game. One batter left. And it was made even easier, because the young lady hit the ball straight up in the air in front of the plate.

All I had to do was step forward four paces and catch it.

I heard my family cheering in the background as the ball–now in slow motion–came tumbling toward my grasp.

In that flash, self-doubt entered my mind.

Should I catch it with my hands, or should I let it come into the bread basket of my chest and cupped arms?

I chose poorly.

As the ball descended, I cupped my hands against my chest to cradle it. It hit me just below the neck and bounced to the ground as the runner from third base scored and the other team won the game.

I received no pity from my children.

They did not say, “Nice try, Dad” or “It could have happened to anyone.”

Matter of fact, on the drive home I could have sworn I heard my youngest mutter, “Butterfingers.”

 

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Ado

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Ado: (n) trouble or difficulty: e.g. she had much ado to keep up with him.

Everybody’s familiar with “Much Ado About Nothing.” It’s a clever Shakespearean phrase. But what IS “ado” and what is “nothing?”

There are two flaws in human beings that were placed there by the Creator as a means of keeping us in just enough dissatisfaction to be aware that we REQUIRE good cheer. That’s the “ado” part.

Human beings are completely capable, in the midst of a blessed life, of not only finding the fly in the ointment, but also being completely possessed with the notion that there are MORE flies than ointment.

“Ado”–a sense of discontent that rattles us even in the midst of joyous discovery and revelry. After all, even when people extol the great fun of drinking alcohol, when you actually get around those who are partaking, the brief season of levity is often followed by depressing reflections on their own inadequacies.

“Ado” is that part of us that just can’t settle on our lot without feeling nasty or bratty. So therefore we begin to focus on “nothing.”

  • We find reasons to disagree with each other instead of establishing commonalities.
  • We start political parties to counteract the political party that disappointed us on Tuesday, which had so greatly impressed us on Saturday.
  • We insist we are worshipping God and praising Him while our prayers are a laundry list of bitchiness.

Once you convince yourself that there is “ado,” then “nothing” becomes something. Things that would not normally throw us upset us or even concern us become stumbling blocks to good emotional and mental health.

So this is why I believe that true spirituality is the promotion of good cheer as opposed to “kneeling and appealing.” And what IS good cheer?

Good cheer is accepting what’s been provided, and beginning to divvy it up–and because you take the time to enjoy what’s available, you look up from your task and suddenly discover there’s more.

I’ve never seen anyone happy until they started pretending they were happy.

I know we’re afraid of pretending, but let’s be honest–some of the most joyous times in our lives were when we were six years old and made believe that we were Superman.

Much Ado About Nothing–“ado” is when I convince myself that I’ve been cheated, and “nothing” is the mythical evidence I bring to support my claim.

We are a funny creation, are we not?