The Witness of Colin Powell: To Try and Live By a Code

 "What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us”  

--Ralph Waldo Emerson

The first Black National Security Advisor to a President. First Black Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  First Black Secretary of State. Those are just a few of the many trailblazing roles that Colin Powell took in his long career as a public servant. Powell died at 84 of complications from COVID, on October 18^th.  He also served two combat tours in Vietnam, helped lead Operation Desert Storm in 1990, established a foundation to help at risk youth, and was honored with both the Congressional Medal of Honor and the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Not bad for a kid from Harlem, the son of immigrants, who instead of going to West Point, the traditional path for success in the army, instead got his degree at the City College of New York.  Powell wasn’t perfect and he’d be the first to admit it. In the run up to the second war with Iraq, he gave an infamous speech at the United Nations, warning that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction, a claim later found to be false. In a 2005 interview, Powell confessed of this chapter in his career, “It will always be a part of my record. It was painful. It's painful now."

What most of us did not know about Powell was that he lived by a code, a self-created code of ethics, morality and wisdom that guided his life and shaped his call to leadership on the battlefield, in government and every day.

Powell’s code contained thirteen simple propositions and included these rules. 1. It ain’t as bad as you think. It will look better in the morning. 3. Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when your position falls, your ego goes with it. 8. Check small things. 9. Share credit. 10. Remain calm. Be kind. 12. Don’t take counsel of your fears or naysayers.

It got me to thinking: if I was asked by what code, what set of principles do I live by, could I answer that question? Do I try and follow certain rules for living? Could I name these or are they instead made up as I go along? I’d like to think the latter rather than the former.

For I believe that at our best, all of us aspire to possess and practice some kind of internal code, a moral compass if you will, that guides us along the way as we seek to live as citizens and humans and children of God. A code that keeps our worse impulses in check and tries to bring out the better angels in our nature.

What might be in your code? What ideals, hopes and life fundamentals show you how to live?

One of the gifts of claiming and practicing a faith tradition, is that principles for life are at the heart of almost every religion. When practiced well, faith is supposed to govern how we live: our ideas about right and wrong, our relationships with others, and our responsibilities as members of various communities, from families to teams to workplaces to our nation.

When Jesus was asked to name the most important law in the practice of ancient Judaism, his reply was simple and yet oh so clear. “Love God. Love neighbor. Love self.” That’ll preach. Modern Judaism offers the notion of tikkun olam, that Jews are obligated in life to “repair the world”, “mend the world”, and “heal the world.” Islam proclaims its “Five Pillars”, among which is zagat, the obligation of every Muslim to donate a portion of their earthly wealth to help others, especially the poor, refugees and the powerless.

Like all humans, folks of faith sometimes fall short of their professed codes and beliefs, and yet there is a power to in the least, try to live a good life, a life of honor and compassion and integrity each day. To not live by moral relativism, shaping morals to fit a given situation, but instead to try and live with moral commitments, ethical clarity, and simple human decency and goodness. I don’t think any of us would argue against these goals: to leave this world at the end of each day a little better than we found it. To help those in need. To share generously. To love abundantly. To forgive quickly. To not see ourselves as better than others. 

Powell demonstrated by his one amazing life of public service, that there are still those leaders in our country, thank God, who try and practice what they preach and then reach back in line to help those who are behind them.  He lived well, in the most profound sense. He lived by a code. He took seriously the obligations of the uniform he wore and the oath he took as an officer and a gentleman.

What is in your code?

 

 

 

 

 

   

     

      

   

  

Creation: It Saves and Soothes Our Souls

 

"There is something to be said about the vastness of the earth, as well as the vastness of the heavens, in reminding us how small we are and how great God's creation is.”   --Aleksandra Layland, author

I’ve never been much of a nature guy, truth be told.

Maybe it’s because I grew up very close to the city, in a neighborhood of modest homes, built right next to and up against, one another. There was some green space but not much. We played whiffle ball on a narrow strip of backyard. A huge asphalt parking lot served as our go to gathering place for biking and kick the can and crab apple fights.

Nature then for me, was experienced at arm’s length.   

As an adult, while many of my friends enthusiastically extolled the joy of camping in the woods and backpacking on the weekends, one of the very first, and only times I ever camped out, I panicked at the first “Beware of Bears” sign. Then, when a nosy porcupine tried to invade my tent at 5 a.m., after a sleepless night on a “sleeping pad” (think micro-thin rubber mat) …. well, I thought that was the last time I’d ever venture into woods. 

A hotel room and hot water and a flush toilet with a door for me, thank you very much.

It’s not that I didn’t love Creation, the wind through the trees on a warm summer afternoon or the crunch of snow underfoot in winter or the technicolor pop of flower blossoms in spring or the crisp temperatures of autumn. I saw these joys and loved how they looked but for most of my life I always viewed the wild as just that, untamed, nice to look at from a distance, but that was it.    

And then the pandemic hit and God’s Creation: it saved me. It still saves me.

Last December, I started taking long walks on a set of trails behind the neighborhood I call home. These well-worn foot paths wind through thick woods and past wetlands, cut through tightly packed stands of pine trees, and take me over a tiny footbridge that spans a gurgling brook.

I walk and I know peace of mind. Peace of soul, especially after a too long day of staring at a computer screen or answering my forty-fifth email or breathing in the sometimes stale air of a shut tight house.

In the dead of our last COVID winter I could have stayed inside all day and all night, alone. But no. Nature called out to me. Gave me sanity in its expansiveness. Helped me to raise my head and look up: at star filled skies. Listen to the chirp, chirp of chipmunks guarding their territory in my backyard. Smell the musky odor of rotting leaves and fallen trees. Heck, I even bought my first pair of hiking boots, that still get a steady work out on my walks. 

The God-given gift of nature, whether in trails in the woods or walks by the water, whether experienced in a city park as the Swan Boats float on by, or in rural meadow exploding in colorful wildflowers: nature reflects the beauty of life, the symphony of God’s Creation playing for all to enjoy. No expensive ticket needed. No special equipment required except maybe a pair of sturdy shoes that can move us through natural space and that don’t pinch our toes.

This is nature. Egalitarian and always inviting. No ticket needed. It cares not for who we are or how we look, the size of our bank account or the diplomas on our wall. Nature and creation remind us of our place in this world, puts us in our place in a way. Humbles us by its size and span. It teaches us that we are finally not above Creation nor the masters of Creation but instead we are Creation in a way, as much a part of the natural world as any beast of the ground or bird of the air.

How easy it is to forget this truth.

Most Americans: we now live in urban areas. We spend inordinate amounts of time locked up in man-made dwellings with the temperature always closely regulated, never too hot or too cold. We are crammed regularly into metal boxes, competing with other metal boxes for space on miles of blacktop. We are so far removed from the earth and seeds and plants that gift us with fresh food. We even witness the convulsions of our planet as it warms up and it burns up and it heats up and we see Creation hurting and are not yet moved enough to save the planet that saves us, every single day.

What’s been most amazing for me to witness is the passage of the seasons in the same natural setting, as I walk in the woods. God somehow turning over Creation and offering never-ending breathtaking transformations. The snow lined trails and bare sparse trees of January give way to the tiny green buds of spring and new life in April leading to the cool shade of the woods in the summer and July, and now finally full circle, all the multi-colored leaves providing a spectacular show in the heart of fall and October.

So, here’s a suggestion.

After you finish reading this, put down your phone or close your computer or set aside your newspaper and then just get outside. Go for a walk. Listen to the birdsong. Feel the crunch of leaves underfoot. Thank the power above all powers that made the beautiful and fragile natural world.

Creation saves us. Thank you, Creator.    

 

Pumpkin Spice Flavorings Return...HELP! PLEASE!

 

Abomination (noun) 1. Anything greatly disliked or abhorred 2. Intense aversion or loathing

--Dictionary.com

Who drinks this stuff? That’s what I’d like to know.

Who imbibes this frothy, saccharine concoction, that every year about this time, rears its ugly head and returns to haunt the biggest coffee store chain in the country, like some ghost risen from the dead? I know it’s not me chugging down this $5.50 java Frankenstein, a mixture of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and pureed pumpkin. The original version, with whipped cream, includes the equivalent of seven and a half teaspoons of sugar (50 percent of our daily requirement) and clocks in at about 450 calories. Five cups and I’ve got all the calories I need for the day.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Pumpkin Spice Latte is back. Oh, the humanity….

Okay, I confess I’m a bit over the top in my protest of this seasonal drink, first invented (or spawned) in 2003 by Starbucks, that in the years since, according to one estimate, has sold more than 200 million cups. There is no doubt that Starbucks hit the jackpot when it decided to roll out this Halloweenish treat. When Starbucks employee Peter Dukes invented the “PSL” eighteen years ago, according to a recent interview, he came up with this drink by pouring an expresso right over a real pumpkin pie, then I suppose, I don’t know--slurped it up?     

Yes, there is the fact that until 2015, it didn’t actually contain any pumpkin. There is the reality the PSL birthed a new food industry trend, creating holiday themed specialty treats. So, I suppose we could indirectly blame Starbucks for all the other items we can also purchase for our pumpkin flavored kick.  Pumpkin Cheerios. Pumpkin Chobani Yogurt. Pumpkin bagels. Pumpkin Coffeemate—make your PSL at home! And my personal favorite: Pumpkin Spice Twinkies.

You say you still thinks me doth protest too much?

I actually agree. When it came time to write this week’s column, I confess that by deadline time I was worried at the prospect of writing another “heavy” essay.  There is so, so much happening in our crazy and complicated world right now. COVID that stays like an unwanted guest. The federal government threatened with a shutdown because Congress has the maturity level of tantrum throwing toddlers in a sandbox. P’oed people upset because they either have to get the vaccine to stay employed, or others vexed because they’ve already been vaxxed and can’t tolerate the shot averse. And, of course, the Red Sox are doing their best version of morphing into the Manilla Folders.

What isn’t totally whacked or totally frustrating in our current high temperature world?

Thus, the PSL is a harmless and convenient target to attack and go on a rant about.  I’ve tasted one and truth be told they are not that bad.  There is something within me that cannot justify spending almost $6 on a cup of coffee.  My thrifty (read “cheap”) Irish forbears would roll over in their graves at such an extravagance.  Truth is we all have our food indulgences, things we enjoy that many others just do not get from a palate perspective.  There is my friend who puts ketchup on his hot dog and swears by it. Other chums of mine just cannot get enough kale in their diet. Me? At 60 years old I still love bologna. Yes, bologna.  My bologna has a first name, it’s O-S-C-A-R!

Whoops. Got a bit off track there. 

I think I will just make peace with PSL. If it tastes good, drink it, I suppose. To each his or her own when it comes to taste. If hundreds of millions of dollars are spent by tens of millions of my fellow Americans on PSLs come this October, and if it brings them joy or reminds them of Grandma’s pumpkin pie, or if this little treat breaks up a boring workday or a long commute, or makes a Zoom meeting tolerable, so be it. More power to you. 

God knows that these days we all need something, anything, to distract us, if only for a little while, from the intensity that is life in 2021. We probably won’t be serving PSL at coffee hour or the next potluck supper my church hosts, but feel free to bring your own if you come. Anything that soothes the spirit and tickles the tastes buds is a gift right now. 

Happy Halloween! Happy Pumpkin Spice Latte! But still, I’ll just stick with a medium hot, dark roast, two creams, one sugar.