A BETTER UNION? BETTER THAN WHAT

This team was a better union for sports in first grade.

That’s me in the stripes and hat.

Some of the same kids in this shot were on my Hood to Coast team eight years later, though none of the adults.

Hood to Coast is an Oregon relay race from Mt. Hood to Seaside.

198 miles with everyone taking three runs.

We traveled in two van with four kids and two adults in each.

I’ve seen some of them recently, which is a reward for living somewhere long enough.

They all had a lot in common with each other back then, as expected.

Most of them were on teams I’d coached so it was special to compete with them on the same team.

They’d been on me for years to run and I finally caved, got in shape at the age of forty-nine, and hit the road.

I knew how to run.

This is me waiting for the start of the Seaside Marathon.

 

I was twenty-nine and apparently a giant, head and shoulders taller than everyone.

Running was part of my day in my twenties.

Run a mile, run two. Okay.

Trot down to the Duniway Track and burn a mile under six minutes?

Did it, then trotted back to Northwest Portland.

Run a 10K? Run them all.

Run the Cascade Runoff? Let’s go.

 

Thirty years ago this June, America’s best distance runners met in one of the most memorable road races any of them would ever run.

The stellar field in the 1981 Cascade Run Off included Greg Meyer, Herb Lindsay, Bill Rodgers, Benji Durden and Jon Sinclair.

 

A few buddies and I went down on race morning and lined up with no bib, no registration, and got yelled at by others with bibs and registration.

I signed up after that and got a t-shirt.

 

Hood To Coast Nightmare

That’s me in a shirt and bib with my medal.

I’d just finished the last leg. In the sand. It was a struggle.

The rest of the guys were all showered and fresh having finished their last legs hours earlier.

The teammate beside me had rented a beachfront condo where I sat down and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Why so tired? Was it the running?

No, I trained for that.

What I hadn’t trained for was a non-stop replaying of South Park, Bigger, Longer & Uncut.

 

When you have the reputation that Parker and Stone do, it is hard to get rid of the sterotypes that have been drawn around you.

But on the political side, there are a lot of dicey issues that are covered here. Censorship for one.

Free speech means free speech. Free to express your thoughts in an open forum. This film tells us that free speech is free as long as you don’t offend the masses.

 

I was not a fan of South Park before I saw BL&U, nor was I a fan of movie musicals.

Well, I’m still not a fan of musicals, but I’m a fan of *this* musical, and am grateful to Parker and Stone for demonstrating that it’s still possible to make a great movie on one’s own terms.

 

If you’re not a fan of non-stop swearing, crude humor, musicals, satire, violence, or just South Park in general then don’t watch this.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone hold nothing back during this movie.

 

Am I fan of South Park? As much as I’m a fan of The Simpsons, which I’m not, but still respect.

Every Army veteran knows you can respect something without liking it.

Respect the rank of the uniform and not the pile of crap in it?

No problem.

 

South Park Respect Then

South Park respect now:

 

As much as I tend not to speak much on the state of political correctness and real life censorship, I have to applaud South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone for not only sticking it to the corrupt American congress but also towards Paramount themselves.

 

Sermon on the ‘Mount feels like a return to South Park’s golden era: fearless, irreverent, and refreshingly balanced in its satire.

No political group is spared.

Whether you’re left, right, Democrat, Republican, or something in between, this episode reminds us that comedy can, and should bring us together through brutal honesty and shared laughter.

 

A better union is inclusive, fair, and helpful.

If people need help? Find help.

If people need direction, find a compass.

 

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

 

If people are lost?

 

Amazing grace how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

 

A better union is the result of growing together, understanding each other, and accepting our differences.

Instead of railing on about being told what to do, how to do it, and where, figure it out.

Do your best, then do a little better.

Each improvement you make in your progress is another step to being someone you can be proud of.

Pick someone, a group, a cause, and show you care.

You won’t change the world since it’s too big, but you can help a small corner of it with your attention.

Your dependability, consistency, and decency won’t be noticed by most, but the few looking for stable ground will feel it.

Those are the people who don’t look like they’re falling down all of the time like first grade soccer players.

Those are the people you call in the middle of the night when you get T-Bone totaled in a car accident in Beaverton, the people you call just to hear their voice, the people you visit to see their face.

That’s a better union for everybody and you know it.