Tuesday, June 09, 2009

It's an Interesting World

Back in the 1970s and 1980s, Major League Baseball was graced with the presence of a pitcher named Joaquin Andujar, who first came to my attention pitching for the St. Louis Cardinals against the Kansas City Royals in the 1985 World Series. He had a pretty good career, going 127-118 in 13 seasons, winning 20 games twice, and getting consideration for the Cy Young Award during his prime. However, if you say his name to baseball fans, many of them will remember the quote for which he is most well-known. "I can describe baseball in one word," he said. "You never know."

I think about Joaquin (he and I are on a first-name basis) and his quote on a regular basis, mostly when something unexpected happens. A coincidence, an ironic occurrence, or a pleasant surprise can make me think "you never know." For the past week or so, two events have been dominating my thoughts. One global, one personal.

1) IRAN

I wasn't expecting a whole lot from the Iran elections. The America-bashing short guy seemed like a solid favorite to win again, despite a late surge by a "reformer", Mir-Hossein Mousavi. I put the word in quotes because so many people recognize that the real power doesn't rest with the president, but with the Supreme Leader. Oops, sorry. That's a link to the profile for Fearless Leader from "Rocky and Bullwinkle", one of my top five shows of all time. Note: the Wikipedia page for Ahmadinejad states that "The neutrality of this article is disputed."

I was not surprised by the winner, but by the margin. Even if the phoney-baloney recount that the Guardian Council is conducting is done on the up-and-up, it's not going to be enough to change who the president is. Apparently, several million Iranians have different expectations. They have gone out every day the last several days and protested in the streets. The last couple of days, they've gotten the crap kicked, beaten, clubbed, and in some cases shot out of them for their trouble. I've seen video and pictures from all over the world of protesters getting banged around by ruthless police forces, so why do I keep tuning into CNN to see what happens every day? It's not because I'm surprised by the crackdown. I know who the rulers are and what sort of men they are. Wherever you find a dictatorial government, you find guys like them. I watch because:

a) I like pretty much every Iranian I've ever met. Iranian kids attended the summer camp I attended and worked at, and they were all good kids. I worked with a few at Capitol Advantage, one of whom is posting tons of stuff on her Facebook page about the election and protests. I haven't met any of the "Death to America" Iranians, but maybe they prefer to stay home. Everything I've read the last few years notes that Iran has one of the most pro-American populations in the Middle East, so our demonization of the entire country is a bit misplaced. We only get exposed to the conservative religious leaders who want to have their own red button with which to threaten America and Israel (a pretty legitimate concern, by the way).

b) Persian girls are pretty. It's a little jarring sometimes to see a woman wearing the hijab and lipstick...and mascara...and eyeliner.

c) English. I've seen so many signs in the crowd written in English. ("Where is my vote?") I know that a lot of people over there speak English, but I didn't expect them to protest to their own government in English. It tells me that they're not just talking to their leadership, but to everyone around the world. Note: A friend said, "What, you don't think people in Iran know English?" I said, "I know they do. But I bet a lot of them know Perl, too, and I don't see them using it in their protest signs.")

d) Silence. I saw video of a street march that had thousands upon thousands of people in the street, and they weren't make a sound. No shouting, no yelling, no chanting. It wasn't because of apathy, but rather a calculated demonstration. I was impressed.

e) The whole "social media revolution" angle. In the old days, you just kicked out foreign journalists, put your own in prison, then went to town with the beating and the executing. Now the Supreme Leader and Friends are learning what every Hollywood celebrity already knows: you can't hide anything in a world with cell phones. Twitter has been the butt of a lot of jokes the last couple of months or so, but it's been an amazing tool for disseminating information and uploading pics and video of what's happening. I just imagine mullahs sitting around a table, scratching their heads and wondering why they're being caused so much trouble by "tweets."

There's a downside to the technology due to tracking individuals by the sim cards in their phones or the settings of their Twitter accounts. And of course, some of the material that's being sent out is very disturbing. Most notably, the death of the young girl called Neda has been a real kick in the gut for a lot of people. I won't link to it, but if you search for the name on Youtube, you'll find it. It's almost too convenient (or inconvenient, depending on your angle) that her name means "The Calling" or the "Divine Calling." (Catholics may think of "the call", which refers to a person's decision to join a religious order)

Like I said, I'm not suprised by the "security forces" set on the protesters. But I am very impressed with the Iranians who are protesting. Not because they're protesting, because any dumb hippie can do that. (I'm not anti-hippie; I'm anti-dumb hippie) I'm impressed because they are showing great courage and ingenuity and intelligence in their tactics. Good luck, folks.

2) A Funeral

I drove back up to Natchitoches on Saturday to spend Father's Day weekend at home. We had been set to have dinner Saturday night with some friends, including Father Ken Roy, who had been the pastor at Immaculate Conception in Natchitoches for several years. Those plans changed when he died during the week. So I stopped in Alexandria Saturday morning to attend his funeral at St. Francis Xavier Cathedral.

I don't usually get that upset at funerals. I tend to feel good about the idea that a single person can bring so many other people together to remember their life and share memories about the them. There were at least 50 priests present, including the Bishop who celebrated the funeral mass. Quite a few people had driven down from Natchitoches to attend, a testament to his popularity.

Father Roy could be very strident in his opinions on any topic. He would stop by the house unannounced and have dinner. If you invited him for a Thursday, he'd tell you he'd be there Saturday. He sat in Daddy's chair and commandeered the remote. He called people by nicknames that nobody else thought of using for that person. It was tough to hold a conversation with him, because at any point in your side of things he would break in and just talk right over you. All of this makes it sound like he was hard to get along with or even unlikable. So why was the cathedral standing room only?

a) He told the greatest stories you ever heard, in the most entertaining way you ever heard them. He had a great Mansura, LA accent. I don't know how to describe it, but it was really fun to listen to. He would dominate the conversation, but you'd be laughing so hard that it was okay. He was willing to make fun of himself along the way. He said that when he moved to a new town, the first thing he did was make 21 friends. That way, he could eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at a different place each week.

He hated the song "Amazing Grace." I remember him saying that a funeral he conducted had the "Singing Fontaine Sisters", who "sang all 48 verses of Amazing Grace", who "couldn't find key in A1 lock factory", and "should have been singing tenor--ten or twenty miles away."

He was going to take a helicopter tour in Hawaii, but they charged extra for anyone over 250 pounds. He didn't mind paying the regular price, but when he weighed himself that morning, "the scale said 'To Be Continued.'"

b) Whatever he said or how he acted, you could tell that there was no malice in him. I can't begin to imagine how hard that is to pull off. He was a genuinely good man, and that made him a popular priest.

Back to the funeral. Like I said, I don't usually get upset. I would have been fine, but at the end his brother (also a priest) came out to thank everyone for coming and to say goodbye. And his brother sounded...just...like him! I don't mean that in the "yeah, they must be related" or "they must be from the same place" kind of way. I mean he spoke and sounded EXACTLY like Ken Roy. He started talking, and I actually said, "Wow" out loud. My mom said I should have seen the look on my face. The sound, the tone, the accent, the mannerisms--everything was the same. Listening to him was like experiencing a Ken Roy homily, from the sounds to the way he read from the paper in front of him, to the way he adjusted his glasses, down to how he ended his sentences. I have never seen or heard anything like it, and it really got me.

As Saturday had sort of put us through the ringer, we held the meal Sunday morning instead, and we all told our favorite Ken Roy stories and jokes. I don't think we were or will be the only ones to do so.


Take care, my friends.
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