Birthdays

 In 1974, I turned eleven years old.  Life was pretty good.  I was doing better in school, and I had a paid-up subscription to Famous Monsters magazine.  Birthdays are a big deal to a kid.  I was looking forward to mine.

In 1974, my brother turned seventeen.  In years past, watching him live his life was probably my favorite thing to do.  By 1974 watching him live his life was really very painful.  His part of his generation was characterized by anger and rebellion.  The war in Vietnam was not yet over, and the music was getting angrier and angrier.  Nobody said it, but he had begun having addiction problems the year before.  Some of his friends had it much worse.   I can't really say when his problems turned from addiction to full-on schizophrenia and paranoia, but it was coming.  The police had to bring him home for a few nights, but he didn't get into any real trouble.  His best friend nearly died from eating the wrong kind of mushroom trying to get high.

My father belonged to a group called the Young Presidents Organization, which was basically a group of second-generation business owners who ascended to positions of power at a young age and wanted to make the best of it.  They met three or four times a year, but the summer meeting was always the "family session" where the members brought not only their wives but their children.

In 1974, the trip was scheduled to be five days at the Ponte Vedra resort in Florida.  Since this was the Rebel Chapter of YPO, all the conference spots were in the South East.  Since Ponte Vedra was big enough to host the group, we went there a few times.  

My grandmother lived with us for half the year, so in preparation for getting us all to Florida, my mother had to arrange for my grandmother to fly to my Aunt's house for her half of the year.  My brother was flatly refusing to go to Florida.  Part of his rebellion was being really angry at the establishment, which basically meant my parents.  

My mother had to get my Grandmother to Atlanta, somehow make peace with my brother since he couldn't be left alone, pack my other brother, my sister and me, and herself and my father, and get someone to take care of the dog in the days leading up to our flight to Florida.

Watching her struggle to plan everything, I said offhand, "That's my birthday." and my mother looked at me with a very quizzical look on her face.  "No, no, that's a couple weeks after." She said.

I was ten, turning eleven.  I knew when my birthday was.  I wasn't going to challenge her on it.  She had a lot on her plate, I knew, and family dinners had become very tense between everyone and my brother.  I looked at the dog and said, "You're right.  We'll deal with that later."  and went to my room.

YPO family meetings didn't actually provide much family time.  The grownups had seminars all day and golf and tennis when they weren't meeting.  The entire point of the thing was networking with people other than your children.  Counselors were provided by the resort to take us kids swimming or golfing or some other activity.  One day they took us to a marine park.  I'd seen dolphin shows in Biloxi, so I wasn't impressed.

During one of the tween movie nights, I said to one of the counselors, "Tomorrow is my birthday, but nobody knows."  I'm not entirely sure why I said it.  I had resolved myself to not fretting over it.  My mother would take care of it when we got home, I was sure.  Maybe I just wanted to have something to say to this person in a power position over me.  The movie about the lady trying to raise a great dane and some dachshunds had already been on television and didn't interest me.  I didn't say anything else about it and continued watching the movie.

The counselor I talked to had to be no more than twenty.  She was pretty, but in a natural sort of way; she wore no makeup and always had her hair pulled back.  Her main job was to make sure we didn't drown and give tennis lessons.  The next night, when we gathered for kids' dinner around the pool, she came out with a cake lit up with candles.  It wasn't a birthday cake.  I think they just got a chocolate cake the hotel had for their restaurant and put candles in it.  I was really embarrassed to get so much attention from strangers.  

My parents walked by on the way to one of their functions, and when my mother saw what was going on, she developed this very pained look on her face, then she did a very curious thing.  She looked at me with a very pained look, like I had betrayed her.  I really have no idea what she was thinking.  Clearly, she was hurt, but I started feeling like I was the one who had hurt her, like maybe telling other people it was my birthday was a really bad idea, that it was some sort of private secret between us.

When we got home and got unpacked, my mother asked what I wanted for my birthday.  I listed off the Aurora Monster Models I didn't have yet, so the next day she took me to Play Pen and got the models, paints, the kind of glue that was safe for kids, and a GI Joe Action Set with a white tiger.  Most years, I had some sort of party to mark my birthday, but not that year.  We didn't speak of it again until forty years later.  

I should have told my mother that I understood she was very busy and had much more serious things to worry about than my birthday, but I didn't.  I don't think it hurt me, and I wasn't really angry so much as I didn't really know how to handle it.  In a family of four kids, attention went to whoever was having the biggest emergency, and in 1974, that was never me.

When I turned sixteen, it happened again.  My brother had been in jail, and when my birthday came around, he was living in the mental care facility at St. Dominics.  My family let June go by with no mention of my birthday.  My girlfriend baked me a little cake from a box.  Her father had died just a few months earlier.  I found the body after he'd shot himself.  It was a really sad, uncomfortable birthday.  Just like in 1974, whoever was having the biggest emergency got all the attention, and at sixteen, that was anybody but me.  By then, I learned to take up as little time and space in the family as I could.  I don't blame them for overlooking me because I was doing my best to hide from them.

I never bothered much with birthdays after that.  My mother would always try to take me out to dinner, usually Nicks, because that was the nicest, closest place she could think of.  Some of the time, I would do it, but most of the time, I would say I was going to schedule the dinner with my mother but never would.

Sometimes relationships die of a thousand tiny blows rather than one big one.  My mother created me.  She taught me how to read when my teachers couldn't, but a thousand tiny blows ended up breaking the bond between us.  Her life was very complicated, and I was but one character in a cast of thousands.  There was pretty good proof all around me that there were far worse fates than being overlooked.  

Being the child that didn't need attention meant that if I was quiet enough, I could get away with whatever I wanted.  And did.   Living under the radar like that had its advantages, but I missed some very important lessons on how to share my life with somebody, and that would come back to hurt me later.  

I miss my mother very much.  When she died, it'd been fifty years since I confided in my mother the way a child should.  I was still the child who needed the least attention.  By that time, I was absolutely the child who wanted the least attention.  I don't resent birthdays; I just don't celebrate them.  That ship sailed quite a while ago.

Communists In America

Joseph McCarthy, Roy Cohn, and J Edgar Hoover all tried to prove that Martin Luther King Jr. was a communist but failed.  They couldn't openly destroy the man just for being black, so they found a way to disguise it.  Everybody hated communists, so they were determined to pin that label on him.

King knew people were coming for his neck from a fairly young age, so he made sure nobody could pin that tag on him.  In all honesty, while he did everything he could to improve the fate of the working man, I don't think he was a communist.  I think he was just a liberal, but he believed in private ownership and other capitalistic principles. 

There were communists in the movement, and everybody knew it.  I don't mean left-leaning socialists that the GOP now calls communists; I mean acolytes of Trotsky bent on an overthrow of the government.  I can't say that I blame them.  Communism offered to overthrow their oppressors and guarantee equality with their former masters.  For an African living in America in the twentieth century, I can see how that would be appealing.  

At the time, nobody really knew that Communism couldn't deliver on its promises.   George Orwell had an idea things might go bad for the communists in 1945 when he had the pigs say that some animals were more equal than others.  In China and the Soviet Union, that certainly proved to be true.  It might also have been a clue in 1940 when a fellow revolutionary put a pick into Trotsky's skull.  

Even with all these warning signs, I don't know that I could blame anyone living on the underside of Jim Crow America for clinging to that as some sort of last hope for a better life.  With a big faction of white America calling them communists just for demanding equal rights, I imagine quite a few thought to themselves, "Why not?"

In 1977 when a house painter planted a bomb in Beth Israel Synagog, the reason given was that Rabbi Nussbaum and his followers were communists.   Having known several members of Beth Israel in 1977, I can tell you they absolutely were not communists.  Some were more capitalist than I am.

I'm not sure how communism became the big bad in America.  Rosevelt had broken up the trusts ten years before the Russian Revolution, but I guess there were enough mega bankers left to turn the public tide against it.  A lot of what Huey Long proposed was technically communism, but nobody dared say it because he was so powerful.  

Communism didn't work for the Russians, so I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have worked here.  There weren't ever any real efforts to make America Communist, though, so I don't really get the fear.  Maybe people had called things communist that wasn't for so long that people began to see it as a threat everywhere.  

In the end, all the efforts to destroy King politically were pointless because somebody decided to destroy him mortally.  For a while, calling somebody a communist became something of a joke.  There weren't many real communists floating around America, and nobody cared about the ones that were.  Everything old is new again.  All of our ancient prejudices are bubbling to the surface again, and accusing somebody of being a communist is a serious threat again.  There are fifty-five years between 1968 when Martin Luther King was killed, and 2023.  Fifty-five is a good, round number.  I'd like to say we've made significant advances since then, but that wouldn't be true.

Evil and Computers

There was a time when I thought we had this xenophobia that strangled America from the beginning on the ropes.  There are evolutionary reasons why we're afraid of people who don't look like us, but for a while, I really thought we'd made progress on it and were learning to transcend our evolutionary prejudices.  I was wrong.  They came back with a vengeance.

Terry Gilliam's treatise on good, evil, time, space, and everything is the 1981 film "Time Bandits."  Because it has a child star and several little people castmates, a lot of people assumed it was a children's film.  It's ever so much deeper than that.  Completely stymied getting his script for "Brazil" produced, Gilliam showed the treatment for "Time Bandits" to George Harrison, who agreed to finance it.

In "Time Bandits," the ultimate evil is played by the brilliant David Warner.  Trapped in hell by the supreme being, Evil sends his minions after the map to time and the universe held by our heroes.  Evil is ready to escape hell, and he believes he knows how to take over the universe: computers.  

In 1981, I was a bit computer mad.  Tom Stemshorn arranged for St. Andrews to have a small computer lab.  A single terminal, connected by modem to the computer at Millsaps, I began a life-long journey of discovery with these machines.  

Early on, I had great hope for the new world computers communicating with modems would bring us.  Slowly at first, but gathering speed now, I learned that, while communicating computers bring great good, they are equally capable of bringing great evil.  In 2023, the greatest medium for the unprecedented growth in xenophobia and outright hate groups has been the internet.  I'm worried it's growing because it allows people to let loose the internal prejudices we all have and lets them find like-minded people.

In the film, the Time Bandits use weapons of war from every age to defeat the ultimate evil.  We don't have that at our disposal.  The only way to counter the hate growing on the internet is with the truth and relentlessly confronting evil with it.  

I don't think this conflict will ever really be over.  I don't think we have that option.  The struggle continues, even on this new battleground.  

Lauren Stennis Statement of Belief And Intention

 A random Google search returned an unexpected memory today. Lauren Stennis went to Millsaps. Her grandfather was John Stennis. Lauren had a great passion for Mississippi and especially desired for us to break with our Confederate past and change the flag. She had her own design, which I liked very much.

Eventually, there was a referendum to change the flag, which a lot of us had a lot of hopes for that were dashed when the results came in. Fearing reprisals from the NCAA, who were threatening to boycott Mississippi, the Speaker brokered a deal where the legislature would pass a new flag, but as Stennis was far too liberal for their stomach, her design was outright rejected, even though she'd spent ten years fighting for change.

This is a link to Lauren's GofundMe from seven years ago. She raised the money, and ultimately, she got what she wanted, but she never got credit for it, not officially. In my world, Lauren fought for the chance that Mississippi might rise above its past, and in my eyes, she won.

In response to an egregious bill in the Mississippi House, Lauren was raising money for a new Statement of Belief and Intention. The original statement was published in 1968, affirming the position that Jackson should no longer be segregated and signed by some of the most prominent business, educational and legal leaders in Jackson at the time. If you can't read this version, Please follow the link to my Blog, where you can see it in higher detail.

Lauren's GoFundMe page

Newspapers.com Clipping of the Jackson Daily News 1968

Here is the text version of what appeared in the paper:

These days constitute the swiftest time of change in our memory. Events hurriedly pile themselves upon events. In our business, our professions and everywhere fast-breaking changes require quick answers and quick actions.

We are threatened with a widening chasm between our people in this State and in our City. Yet, here in this State and in this City there is a vast reservoir of good will, compassion and kindness that is genuinely a very part of our being. This vital reservoir of true neighborly feeling, true friendship must be brought to the fore now and without delay.

We cannot sit back and become prisoners of events. We must cope with them firmly and decisively and manage our own destiny. Accordingly, in the set conviction that the great majority of our people, white and black, desire harmony, good order, a decent honorable family life and a chance to better themselves economically, we, the undersigned Jackson business and professional men and women declare we believe in the following principles, and we pledge ourselves to do everything within our power to see that they are carried out:

1: We believe in the essential worth and dignity of every human being and all that such implies.

2: Fair and impartial treatment must be accorded to all citizens in the enforcement and administration of the law.

3: Every citizen of this City regardless of race, creed or color is entitled to equal access to employment as he is qualified by training and experience to perform, and to earn the con-

tinuation of such employment by his own hard efforts.

4: In order that all of our citizens may be qualified for equal employment opportunities, educational opportunities must be available to them on an equal basis.

5: Adequate and properly staffed recreational facilities should be made available for all of with the coming of the summer season, all City swimming pools should be opened. All parks should be open, and should be staffed by competent personnel, and properly equipped to the end that all our people may obtain the maximum benefits from them.

6. Communications between the races should be encouraged en every level of our City. This should include all of us whether we be public officials, civic, business, religious, or professional leaders.

7. There is no place in our city for hate, discord or violence.  No man, whatever his course or whatever his convictions, is above the law. All of our citizens should work untiringly and unceasingly to bring out to the fullest the best in us in the way of kindness, compassion,

friendliness and understanding that we may all progress through cooperation. We owe this to ourselves, our families, the oncoming generations, and the development of all of our talents.

Respectfully Submitted,

(Please refer to the image for the complete list of names.  Many of you will find your parents on it.  Nearly every Millsaps Professor is on it. My own father is not on it.  In 1968 there would have been tremendous pressure on Missco not to appear too radical.  He found ways to express his opinions, though, for one thing, there were no reprisals against any of the Millsaps Professors.  This was also the year that Daddy hired a black woman to be the company receptionist so that the very first face you saw when you entered our building on South Street was a smartly dressed descendant of Mississippi slaves.)