Results tagged “memorial service” from Marilyn Sewell

I was fascinated by David Brooks' editorial (NYTimes 5/12, A23) on an article entitled "What Makes Us Happy?" by Joshua Wolf Shenk, to be published in this next issue of the Atlantic.  In short, the article (now available on line) describes a longitudinal study done by one George Vaillant over a 42-year period on a group of 268 of the most promising young men of the Harvard class of 1942.  Among them were John F. Kennedy and Ben Bradlee. 

These young men were the creme de la creme: they were intelligent, sophisticated, advantaged in every way.  They had been selected from the rest of the entering class because they were considered the most well adjusted.  Since they were college sophomores, they have been visited by researchers regularly and studied in every aspect of their living.  The results are known as the Grant Study, and they are summarized in Shenk's article, which I have not as yet had a chance to read--but eagerly await.

Judging from their privileged beginnings, one might expect that these men would grow into highly successful, happy individuals.  The life stories, however, show quite a different outcome.  Brooks points out that one third of the men ended up suffering at least one bout of mental illness.  Many would be plagued with alcoholism.  A few, understandably, could never admit that they were gay, until they were of an advanced age. Brooks is struck, he says, by "the baffling variety of their lives."  What causes us to make certain decisions, to follow life-giving as opposed to destuctive paths?  And a man who seems to do well in one phase of his life might just fall apart in the next phase.  Why?

The study apparently produced some correlations.  Correlations don't prove, but they do suggest.  The men by and large did better as they aged.  Those who suffered from depression were much more likely to be dead by their early 60's.  But it's George Valliant's final conclusion that is the most profound and the most instructive to us all.  In a video he says, "Happiness is love.  Full Stop."

Ironically enough, love always seemed to elude Valliant himself, Brooks reports.  When he was 10, his father, who seemed successful and content, shot himself beside the family pool.  The mother removed the children from the house, and Valliant never saw the house again.  There was no memorial service.  Valliant married three times, returning then to his second wife.  For long periods he was estranged from his children.

Brooks concludes, poignantly, "Even when we know something, it is hard to make it so."

Yes, this is true.  But I have a response to this statement.  Stay tuned for my next reflection.

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One really nice thing about flying--perhaps the only nice thing these days--is the opportunity for a little quiet time.  If I can adequately discourage a loquacious seatmate, I generally settle into a thoughtful book of essays or a moving novel.  I often find myself making notes about future sermons, because any break in my usual world of stimulation and task-orientation gives rise to creativity.

And now I read (NY TImes, 9/14) that American Airlines is offering Aircell's in-flight internet access, called Gogo.  Oh, no!  Please, no Go-go!

Passengers are not allowed to use their enhanced laptops to make phone calls, but the capability is built in--so how long will it be before the techno-wizards figure out how to make that "emergency" phone call (to their business partner for strategy, to their girlfriend to make amends, or to their mom on her birthday)?  I venture to say, not long.  Maybe about 20 minutes after lift-off.

Now I understand the need to speak to others about important matters.  I do that all the time myself.  But I also rue the day when I began to listen to other people's conversations in restaurants, in grocery stores, at the pharmacy, in the quiet of the spa, while waiting at the coffee shop for my turn, while walking down the street, while taking a leisurely train trip.. 

A recent train trip to Seattle was perhaps the most offensive cell-phone experience I've had lately, when a young woman treated the rest of the car to her end of an anguished argument with her boyfriend.  After fifteen minutes, I got out of my seat, walked back to her, and said, "Excuse me, but do you know that everyone on this car can hear everything you are saying?"  She thanked me and hung up.

There is a principle we seem to somehow miss in American culture--the principle of considering not just individual desire, but how one's behavior might affect the community.  So someone is allowed to put up a building that is a painful contrast to surrounding historic structures.  Gasoline-powered leaf-blowers, used to render private sidewalks and yards pristine, invade our neighborhoods, and we all suffer from the noise.  Billboards face major roadways, where we cannot fail to see their messages, distracting us from driving and disturbing the beauty of the landscape.  Individuals should not be allowed to invade our senses of hearing, smell, vision, etc., for their own private purposes.

Quite honestly, the cell phone is one of the most disturbing evolutions of this generation, for me. Of course there are legitimate uses for the beast--for road emergencies, to keep up with errant children, to let someone know that you have been irrevocably delayed for whatever reason.  But they should be used in private.  If you count yourself my friend, please do not answer your cell phone while we're conversing, and I'm pouring out my heart to you about . . . whatever.  Congregants and visitors to the church, please do not interrupt the sermon ever again--or at least interrupt it at a funny moment, not when I'm trying to advise people about their immortal souls.  Or for God's sake, please don't allow your phone to ring during the memorial service, as happened in one service I was conducting, when the ring went on and on and on during a most solemn moment in the service.  Thanking you ahead of time.

One playful fellow I know likes to approach people who are having one-sided conversations outloud in public places and just get in on the conversation.  "So how is Sam, anyway?" he'll say to the person speaking on the cell phone.  He figures that if he's pursuant to the conversation, he wants to know the whole story.  I myself have fantasized about handing out a small card to cell phone offenders, with the following message: "Please don't involve me in your private conversation."  But then I feel petty and mean-spirited.  Cell phones turn me  petty and meanspirited, I suppose.  I should work on that.  Maybe meditate more.

But please, please, please, American Airlines!  Don't let them start using cell phones on airplanes.  We should all fly less anyway, to save our dear planet.  Well, if  passengers start talking on cell phones, I won't fly at all.  I can't bear it.

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