I come from a generation of people, the post-World War Two industrial class, that were not good academic students. In a classroom, we twitched and fidgeted and generally displayed some form of anti-social behavior. Our idols were the icons of rock and roll: Led Zeppelin, America, Jethro Tull, the list was endless (1). Freedom was the buzzword. Get out of the system and become free. The enslavement, embodied in a school, had to be thrown off: the fetters unshackled. The first step was to achieve economic liberty: this was realized by “getting a job.” As grade ten and grade eleven came and went, much like the fluctuations of the tide, the institution retained fewer and fewer students (I didn’t join my compatriots simply because of my fear of the wrath of my mother).

 

After leaving school, however, what was quickly realized was the world had little time for triflers: mediocrity was quickly expunged. You gave 100% to your job or the system “kicked you out” and replaced you. The logging industry was one of the better-paid endeavors in our community. A “logger” walked with a kind of swagger that befits an arrogant young man (always a man). Setting chokers (2) was the bottom of the industrial heap. “If you could make it there, you could make it anywhere,” to paraphrase Frank Sinatra. (3) What terrible work! I had the great “opportunity,” if that’s what it was, to do this every summer while I was getting my undergrad. The day began at 5 o’clock. You awoke, washed, had a substantial breakfast, whatever your stomach could hold at this early hour, and walked up the street to catch the bus. Much like elementary school, the bus arrived at 6:30 and you proceeded to the marshaling yard where all men were counted and placed in crews for the workday. If you can imagine the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, you would not be far off. There was the kind of resentment that all men feel when they are selling their irreplaceable time for money. That being said: when we arrived onsite, at the logging location, a kind of magic fell upon “the crew.”The most bedraggled, alcoholic, and broken team member was suddenly Paul Bunyan (4) in his head.

 

He rode through the woods on a big blue ox,
He had fists as hard as choppin’ blocks,
Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall…that’s Paul.

 

Talk about workin’, when he swung his axe
You could hear it ring for a mile and a half.
Then he’d yell ‘Timber!’ and down she’d fall…for Paul.

Talk about drinkin’, that man’s so mean
That he’d never drink nothin’ but kerosene,
And a five-gallon can is a little bit small…for Paul. (5)    

 

How do you inculcate a populace to always strive for excellence? It has to be in the belief that you as a being are mortal; therefore, your toil, your attempt, must be your very, very best. “There is no second chance at a first impression,” as the sartorial experts like to claim. This all comes to last Friday. I was attempting to explain the imagery in Taylor Swift’s new song, “Look What You Made Me Do.” (6) Now, I believe that when you know something, you can either embrace or reject it: your choice – much like religion. However, if you don’t know, you have nothing to refute (Please view the music video; it is “a real piece of work”: you can draw your own conclusions. As we speak, close to 50,000,000 young people have watched its images, it is thus, obviously, a social statement. Without reading too much into this, it reeks of average – good enough: when one personality is insufficient, I simply develop another, and another, etc). I was laboring this point, not too pedantically I hope, when a young man said he was not interested in learning about its depictions. He just wanted “to have fun!” I tried to explain the proverb: forewarned is forearmed. This fell on deaf ears. I was stunned and, if you can believe it, speechless. This then must be the danger of the Internet: indifference. I don’t want or need to develop my mind because everything is there: it needs no analysis. I wouldn’t let it go and sat with the young man explaining these thoughts: failure was the result this particular day. But, as Sun Tzu (7) tells us, “A lost battle does not depict the outcome of the war.” The great scholar, intellectual and introspective human being, Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), leaves us with a thought: The test of the artist does not lie in the will with which he goes to work, but in the excellence of the work he produces.

 

A closing thought: As I age chronologically, I am not so sure that anthropomorphism, giving human qualities to other creatures, is so illusory. The other evening, a truly enormous cockroach passed by my desk: I am always very curious about this because our office is very clean and there is nothing to eat. Her girth could easily elicit screeches and other notable signs of terror. In her haughtiness, she stopped and glanced up at me, her antennae all ablaze with inquisitiveness. “Why are you not here and vice versa?” she seemed to inquire. Her fanciful question only reinforced my belief that every human life is not an accident. We each have a mission and a purpose in life.    

 

To sum up: This week we spoke about being “good enough,” being mediocre. The world will not forgive us. It is this generation that must change our world: anything less will have truly dire consequences.

 

A sardonic encounter: The other day, I was hurriedly driving between appointments when I passed a minor traffic accident: a Mercedes Smart Car, one of those little boxes on wheels, had hit a full-sized Mercedes Benz. I have a question: “Which one was smarter?”

 

Just for fun: The Rat Pack

 

This week, please promise yourself that your mediocrity is a “thing of the past.”

 

Every day look for something magical and beautiful.

Quote: I must remind myself that, whatever my religious conviction, in this life, I have one life.

Footnotes:

1)   Top 100 Rock Bands of the 70s

2)   Radio Controlled Chokers, Video #02, Vancouver Island, B.C., Canada

3)   Frank Sinatra – “Theme from New York New York” 

4)  Paul Bunyan

5)  Paul Bunyan – Poem by Shel Silverstein

6) Taylor Swift – Look What You Made Me Do 

7)  Sun Tzu