It’s too hot, it’s too cold. The Reds are floundering
and the politicians don’t know what they’re doing. Oh yeah, and when you turn
54, as I did on Wednesday, it becomes painfully obvious you aren’t the kid you
used to be.
Believe me, there is no shortage
of things to complain about, is there?
When I was 4, I whined all the
time. I wanted to ride my bike across town, but wasn’t allowed because I wasn’t
“old enough.” I had to share our family television set with four other younger
kids who were far more interested in Batman cartoons than Cleveland Browns
football games. Ugh. And every time I wanted a glass of milk, the carton was
always empty.
“Mom, I want a divorce from the
rest of them,” I said.
“Denied,” she ruled.
“Who can I appeal this decision
to?”
“Tell it to Joey. He’ll probably
be a judge someday.”
“Yeah, right. He just hid his Pop
Tart in the dirty clothes hamper.”
I whined and whined and whined.
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS later, I was so
much more enlightened and imminently qualified to pontificate, in my humble
opinion. So my complaining had "social value."
Name a topic, any topic, and I
had a perspective on it.
The Bengals needed younger
players. Too bad Mike Brown was such an idiot he couldn’t see that. On the one
hand, criminal defendants seemed to have too many rights, but on the other, the
Fourth Amendment seemed to be slowly eroding away. Too bad the justice system
is full of people who don't know any better. And I didn’t know what Bruce
Sprintsteen was thinking when he separated from his E Street Band.
The world was going to hell in a
hand basket. Couldn’t anyone see that? Apparently it was up to me to set
everyone straight, and for a while, I tried.
I was in Aspen, Colorado, in the
late summer of 1989 attending a conference. I ate lunch one afternoon next to a
nice older man who smiled easily and spoke softly. Naturally, I thought having
such a gentle nature meant the old man did not have a clue (only bold people
have sound opinions, right?).
So I unloaded on him for a good
hour, on a variety of topics. The older man listened patiently. He frequently
nodded as if to agree with me.
“People have to speak out,” I
said. “Nothing changes unless our voice is heard.”
When lunch was finished, he got up,
stood beside me and touched me on the shoulder.
“Jeffrey, I love your passion,”
he said. “But change requires more than just shouting at the rain. Anyone can
complain all the time. You can’t just yell at people and expect them to change.
You have to be someone who offers a positive solution, and then lead them in
that direction.”
Then he walked away.
I thought that was the stupidest
thing I had ever heard. It was not raining that day, and I had never once
raised my voice.
See? No clue.
I HAD A BIRTHDAY the other day,
my 54th. I am as old now as that “old guy” I had lunch with in Aspen.
For some reason, 54 feels old.
I’m tempted to dominate every conversation with constant complaints about my
aging body and the events around me.
But with age comes wisdom.
Apparently that is also true for my younger brother Joe, who is judge of the
Warren County Probate and Juvenile Court. As an aside, I will accept his advice
and assistance now, even though I’ll never take a Pop Tart from him.
I’ve been thinking. What is the
difference between positive action, which helps promote change, and blatant
complaining, which does not help anyone?
I’m reminded of a scene from the
movie “American President,” where Michael Douglas is forced to respond to his
opponent and harshest critic.
Near the end of the movie, he
addresses the White House press corp in an impromptu news conference. He says,
“I’ve known Bob Rumson for years. And I’ve been operating under the assumption
that the reason Bob spends so much time shouting at the rain was that he simply
didn’t get it. Well, I was wrong. Bob’s problem isn’t that he doesn’t get it.
Bob’s problem is that he can’t sell it!
“We have serious problems to
solve, and we need serious people to solve them. And whatever your particular
problem is, I promise you Bob Rumson is not the least bit interested in solving
it. He is interested in two things and two things only: making you afraid of
it, and telling you who’s to blame for it.
“That, ladies and gentlemen, is
how you win elections.”
Translation: Like the old man
told me, shouting at the rain does not, by itself, accomplish anything. We need
action. We need effective advocacy that will win over a new way of thinking,
not just belittle the current view. The last time I checked, we can’t put a
finger in anyone’s face, call them names, and then expect them to say, “You’re
right. I’m an idiot. Thank you for pointing that out to me.”
We need a ray of sunshine. It’s
human nature to want to follow it.
THERE IS A STORY of a man who is
looking over a poverty-stricken town. There is despair everywhere.
The man looks to the heavens and
complains, “God, why don’t you do something about that?”
God responds. “I did. I made
you.”