Songs of Pain and Hope

In my opinion, one of the two greatest captains in fiction (the other is Captain Barnacle from the Octonauts).  William Adama from the Battlestar Galactica series, is the lead commander, actually the only one left, after almost the entire human race gets wiped out.  Considered obsolete and waiting to be converted into a museum, his ship is the only one standing because he stubbornly refuses to update its computer system, ironically saving it when some type of virus incapacitates the rest of humanity.

Outnumbered with a ragtag crew (young, inexperienced, uncertain) and outdated technology (he uses fighters meant to be exhibits) – responsible for not only his ship, but others with the remaining survivors, he somehow fights off a superior enemy.

Adama is no Picard or Kirk.  He doesn’t have the backing of an intact, powerful Starfleet.  Picard’s crew, while quirky, leans more to the professional and mature side of the spectrum.  My daughter’s godfather remarked incisively that Picard would often cite some technobabble to get himself out of a jam or rely on deux ex machina.  Kirk to me was just a cowboy.  Both had the most modern ships in the fleet with the latest technology.

Adama is flawed.  Inconsistent in discipline, allows his feelings for his crew to affect his judgment, prone to outbursts of anger, too loyal to staff at times, allows himself to be stuck in apathy, falls in love with the civilian President and quarrels with her.

But he is a hell of a leader.  Principled, realistic, seasoned, resourceful, willing to take risks when warranted (roll the hard six), tough, understands human nature, forgiving of his crew’s many mistakes, etc.

The show’s writers included a brilliant, powerful scene where he is speaking at a funeral to the demoralized crew and civilians.  They are running out of supplies, fuel, ammunition, many dead.  Adama gives them hope and motivates them to get on board by repeatedly yelling “So say we all.”

He does lead them to a new home – something that he didn’t even really believe in, told the lie to give hope.

My first year as a DA, I visited a former friend’s church in Boston.  The senior pastor whom I had never met before asked me what I did for a living.  When I told him, he says “You don’t make a lot of money do you?”  (Ok, true, paralegals at big firms were probably paid the same or more).  Stunned, I keep quiet, thinking I did not hear him correctly.  He repeats the statement.  I mumble something about doing it to serve.  He then says it for the third time.  Back then, I was more gracious (unbelievably), so I walk away.  On another occasion, an elder remarks I must enjoy having a sugar mama.  Insulting.  Humiliating.  With Christian leaders like this, I’ve considered converting several times.  Also, ever notice how many church leaders are rich or successful?  When was the last time you saw a blue collar worker in a leadership role?

I’m glad I took the path I did, but should have considered the teaching / advising path more seriously earlier.  I just looked at my peers with nice cars, big houses, adulation.  I didn’t even care much for those things – it was more about the unfairness more than anything.  I’m human.  I did write a ditty for the boy I would sing at work to the amusement of colleagues – “I’m gonna be rich, I’m gonna be powerful” and a few additional lines on women and wine (not serious, just a homage to Led Zeppelin).

Anyway, my favorite teacher lived out the plot of Mr. Holland’s Opus where a music teacher realizes at the end of his career the great impact he had on others.  I used to cringe at that ending, not what I wanted.  Now rethinking that.  That may very well be the winner.

I still sing that ditty.

(From the Indiana years)

Recently, I haven’t been able to watch Law and Order.  I am starting to see why some people protest that the media glorifies violence.  Violence is pretty boring if you think about it.  Sin is boring.  After watching enough episodes, the “shocking” twists aren’t really that shocking after all.  

I once taught a kid whose father threw him out of a car as well as other abusive things.  Fathers can really skew one’s perception of God, our heavenly Father.    Sometimes, when I think about this incident, it makes me want to prosecute that father.  But then I also know he was probably hurting inside too.  However, I do not like people who abuse children.  

What do you do though when the abuser was once abused himself?  How much do we mitigate based on one’s experiences? I have been thinking about grace.  There are some people who argue that justice has no grace in it.  This probably couldn’t be further from the truth.  What is the alternative to not seeking justice?  Letting someone continue to hurt others as well as themselves in the process?  There seems to be a lack of grace there, as well as mercy.  This too is a fine line. “Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things that a man needs to believe in the most.” – From Secondhand Lions I now believe in grace, undeserved gifts, and second chances.

So there’s this convicted murderer, Mumia Abu Jamal.  Decades ago, he shot and killed a young Philadelphia police officer.  My DA Chief handled the case for a long time.  Abu-Jamal is relatively famous – he has honorary degrees, a book, and even a street named after him in Paris.  He is still alive.  His victim isn’t, leaving behind a widow.  His name is less well known.  But it is the one to remember – Daniel Faulkner.

This one is about truth.

There’s this poem I used to teach my ethics students with – The Man in the Glass.  It is about how one must be able to live with oneself and what they’ve done.  No one is perfect.  Everyone has something.  But I think it’s about batting average rather than isolated incidents.  What we do and why.  We all have our hands but it’s how we choose to play them.  My friend who was a nun said it’s about the banner flying over your head that shows who who and what you served.  

The other trilogy of movies that has profoundly impacted me in addition to the Godfather is the Hong Kong Infernal Affairs.  It is deep and insightful.  About two moles – one who is an undercover officer infiltrating the underworld and the other a Triad infiltrating the police.  It’s subtle and understated in many scenes.  Both moles wrestle with their identities – the Triad does everything to convince himself he is a legit officer and the undercover wonders whether he’s too far gone and is now an actual gangster.  A key scene occurs at the end of the first movie when the latter reaffirms who he is.  He just knew.

I had some very misleading job titles at the NYPD for many reasons.  Civil service shenanigans and the fact they had to hide me.  So many times, I had to remind myself that they were titles and not functions, even if no one else really knew.  That wasn’t easy.  But at the end, I knew and maybe more importantly God knew.  And now my kids know.

Mumia Abu Jamal is probably more remembered in this lifetime than those who sought justice.  That is the sad state of this world.

But the name to remember is Daniel Faulkner.  Philadelphia Police Officer and hero.

(From the Indiana years)

I want to run

I want to hide 

I want to tear down the walls 

That hold me inside 

I want to reach out 

And touch the flame 

Where the streets have no name 

I want to feel sunlight on my face 

I see the dust cloud disappear 

Without a trace 

I want to take shelter from the poison rain 

Where the streets have no name 

We’re still building 

Then burning down love 

The city’s aflood 

And our love turns to rust 

We’re beaten and blown by the wind 

Trampled in dust 

I’ll show you a place

High on a desert plain 

Where the streets have no name 

And when I go there 

I go there with You 

It’s all I can do 

On the two U2 concerts released on film to the public over the past three years, Bono juxtaposes Streets with Bad/40 and All I Want Is You (different concerts).   These songs deal respectively with addiction/imprisonment, crying out to God for salvation, and the true nature of love. 

There is a sense of yearning after the lines “How long to sing this song?” and “All I want is you, all I need is you.” 

And as the solemn and even worshipful opening notes of Streets begin, one can anticipate the familiar sequence of the Edge’s repeating guitar riff breaking in and ultimately building up to joyful celebration.  My heart is always encouraged and renewed in hope after watching these sequences as I see glimpses of the eternal in the song.  A reminder of what our hope is in and what we live for,

A colleague used to be really proud of the buildings he worked in.  Never grasped this one, but apparently many buildings in Manhattan are historic with names they are referred to.  If you take the time to admire the architecture, they are quite majestic.  For me, I called them my daytime prisons.

Other than Headquarters (Death Star I), I was in a building that had bathrooms resembling those from the Saw franchise or the Harry Potter haunted ones.  I tried really hard not to go.  The silver lining was the fried chicken sold downstairs and I got to make the Gary Williams fist pump every morning to the officers on guard duty.  They appreciated that and reciprocated in turn. 

Then we got moved to Death Star II, also known as the Verizon Building.  That wasn’t a corporate sponsored name like the Verizon Center – it actually formerly belonged to the company.  Very ironic, but cell phone reception was negligible to non-existent in the building.

The memorable part though was that it overlooked the iconic Brooklyn Bridge – directly on top.  In flyover shots from shows set in NYC, it’s visible.  My floor had full glass walls whee we could see the ant-like cars crossing back and forth to and from Brooklyn.  Stunning.  Various big shots would drop by just for the view.  On the Fourth, there would be viewing parties for fireworks from said glass walls.  Spectacular.  I also remember the night when the Bridge was shut down so that El Chapo could be transported back from his trial.

I was going to write something about bridging gaps in terms of various factors, but I don’t think I will.  That detracts from the true majesty of what I was blessed to experience.

I usually write about this in the context of sports and some work indirectly.  It is also found in other areas such a warplane design – specifically the F-16 and A-10, both heavily influenced by the thinking of John Boyd.

The F-16 was designed to be light, quick, and maneuverable.  In direct contrast to the F15 which was more influenced by the faster, bigger, higher school of thought, the F-16 was the alternative respons by e.  A key component of the design was the sacrifice of stability for maneuverability – the aircraft has instability built in.  And it is legendary, quickness useful in dogfights.

The A-10 is a slow, tough, inelegant looking aircraft.  But incredibly effective and efficient.  Used primarily to attack ground targets, its heavy armor and powerful guns it is respected and feared.  It survived many attempts to retire it.  Another interesting fact about the A-10 is that it is also used as a controller for operations due to its speed or lack thereof.  Being slow in comparison to other aircraft allows it to spot targets and other locations of interest.  Another benefit of slow.

In the context of parenting, stability is a lot like wealth – a U-curve.  Too little or too much is detrimental.  Stability can be constraint to growth.  Some randomness isn’t the worst – per the F-16.  I gave my daughter a soccer ball larger than those for her age, it made her a great dribbler.  Learning to see isn’t just about celerity but taking your time, patience – per the A-10.

(From the DA years – I wrote this without knowing that one day I’d live in Boston)

This is for every kid who has been picked on, excluded, or marginalized by the popular bullies.  This is for every person who waits for someone or goal that seems unreachable. 

Last night, the Boston Red Sox won in 14th innings (the longest postseason game ever) despite countless managerial and player errors as well as blown calls by the umpires – and the Curse of the Bambino (Red Sox selling Babe Ruth for cash to the Yankees in 1918).  The Red Sox lost the first three games of the best of seven series, making it virtually impossible for them to win.  No team has ever come back from a 0-3 deficit to win a baseball series.  Sportswriters around the country have literally written the Red Sox off as sure losers.  While the Red Sox still have a formidable task ahead of them to win the series – winning two straight games at Yankee Stadium and four games straight, there is hope.  Through it all, no one can question the resilience of the Red Sox. 

I don’t know if the Red Sox will win.  History and the odds go against it.  The Yankees are talented and clutch.  But they are also bullies.  And if there’s one thing I’ve picked up in my relatively short existence on earth, is that bullies eventually fall.  And they fall hard.  The important thing is not to quit fighting.  Sure, you may get beat real good, but make sure to go down fighting and putting some hurt on the other person; next time they’ll think twice when messing with you.  The Red Sox may be cursed, but the Yankees got upset last year in the World Series by the Anaheim Angels.  Bullies fall.  Don’t quit.  For one more day, the Red Sox live. 

On a related topic, I remember growing up with a bunch of punks both in high school and youth group.  These guys couldn’t do anything wrong and they let some of us less talented people know about it.  I have a couple of things to say to them –  “Thanks for making me into a prosecutor and for teaching me to defend the powerless.”  I feel that these same punks are the ones now who will not hesitate to march against gay marriage, abortion, and Harry Potter books while still acting like sanctimonious, pretentious idiots.  While I don’t necessarily agree with the “liberal” stance on those issues, the point is that those who appear to be holiest are often not.  We like to pick on struggles that we don’t personally face.  But when was the last time we heard a Christian march on selfishness, marginalization of minorities, or for adoption?  Before we decide to overrule the Roe v. Wade line of cases, we should try to figure out how to solve the problem of unwanted babies and single unwed mothers.  As for gay marriage, I’m not sure whether we can live with the consequences of the state interfering with private decisions and morality.  The same people who would speak out against gay marriage would likely be against the state banning contraception (which has actually happened but thankfully overturned by the Supreme Court). 

And as for Harry Potter, I bet we have better battles to fight than to tear down imaginary characters for children.  Enough said.  In all this, I give all credit to God who has brought me to great places and through experiences that have molded me so far.  Despite my bitterness and brokenness, He has been merciful and kind.  He has truly prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies; my cup runs over.  A pastor and I discussed that verse before I left Maryland for law school in Indiana and at this point I can see how God kept that promise.  I write all this with the knowledge that I owe all success and accomplishments to Him.  Any award, position, or relationship without Him are hollow husks of grain.  Those same things with Him are like dancing under a harvest moon.

Go Sox.

A former student read my stories and said he couldn’t believe it came from one man.  He said it felt like it came from a village.

He also told me he saw how I took the beatings and stood up for others. He said in college, he had to write a paper on someone who influenced him positively and he wrote about me.  He recalled how I lent him my suit for his 8th grade dance.

I had totally forgotten that I did that.

Over the years, I have received communications from former students and subordinates recalling the impact I had on them. Most of the time, I had no idea.

I was just trying to do my job. Do some good in this life and world.

In my own little and limited way.

And that, in part, was what it was about.