For Whom the Bell Tolls

Hello from Caribou Coffee in Sioux City,

While the first couple of paragraphs of this were written a couple weeks ago, I think I will leave them largely unedited. I am actually sitting with my computer and doing a bit of work on a variety of topics this morning. I am in what has become a favorite hangout, and I have a scad of things to manage. It has been difficult at times doing some of my admin work on a daily basis, which is why I have run off to Sioux City the past two weekends. Sitting in Caribou is comfort for me. I am feeling more transient that I expected, but that is my issue and something I need to manage. One of those strategies has been to go to something familiar. I have in someways, invaded my cousin’s house, and they have been most gracious, but I think there are times they need their space too. So building the bus is certainly a project of gargantuan proportion and the reality of some of that has been a kick in the head, but as noted recently, progress is being made. Certainly not as quickly as all wish, but process and doing it well is of more importance than merely getting it done. I have already learned that watching others. So this morning, I have been working on a variety of things from plans to ordering things, from insurance things to prescriptions . . . most things completed, and now off for some errands . . . One of the things that continually catches me off guard is no matter how intentionally I plan, the forces in the world seem to have no trouble in reorienting my intentions. Since I started this blog to say the past week has been a whirlwind of unexpected events, possibilities, and imagining what next would be a profound understatement. And yet, progress continues to occur, on the bus, in what might happen next with construction, and with how it can all be managed

Three or four times since arriving back in Iowa, I had the opportunity to meet with the older brother of my childhood best friend. His name is John, and he was the eldest of the three brothers. He was incredibly talented, unparalleled in his kindness, and one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. 50 years later, he is no different. The conversations we’ve had and memories we have shared have been eye-opening. if you read this blog for any period of time, you are well aware that my mother struggled to raise us, to be fair or equitable. The way that manifested itself was both difficult and literally painful. When I found out in this continuing conversation with him, as well as in conversations with others, more were aware of our situation than I realized. That was difficult to hear on one hand, and yet affirming on the other. . . . Another 10 days passed and it still has not been completed. I am presently sitting in the Minneapolis airport waiting to fly back to Pennsylvania for a week-long visit to manage a number of appointments. I drove up early yesterday from Mallard to beat a snowstorm, which did actually arrive; it might be the most snow I’ve seen this winter. At the moment, my flight is still on time, and I can only hope that remains the case. 

Since I first began this blog post, the world has been a whirling dervish of craziness. Again, if you read my blog with any consistency, you are well aware of why I might believe this. Over the last 10 days, I’ve had to come face-to-face with the reality of global politics And how it affects people I actually know and care about. I have Ukrainian friends, some here in the states and some still in Ukraine. Others have actually left their country and are living in other European countries or Canada. I hurt for them at this moment, and I feel helpless. That is not a political statement; that’s a human statement. The first time I went to Europe with Dr. John (the Pope)Nielsen, before leaving we were required to read books by Ernest Hemingway and Thomas Mann. One of those books is the title of this post. Until I did some research recently I did not realize the connection between what Hemingway Road and Dr. Nielsen‘s dissertation, which looks at the poetry of John Donne. it is from Donne’s Meditations. He wrote “No man is an Island intire of it selfe; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the maine; (Donne’s original spelling) and he would continue, “any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. (Again, spelling and italics in original)” it is profound to realize that everything we do has consequence far beyond our imagination. And of course, the more powerful individual, the more extreme the consequence. Recently, I used the term “transactional colonialism” and it seems that’s where we’ve returned I believe the goals of Vladimir Putin to return Russia to its Soviet power, which is not realistic, or even possible if you look at all the pieces, but he is determined to do so. My friends in Poland, my exchange to in Estonia, and yes, my friends in Ukraine are stunned by what is happened in the last seven weeks. They reach out to me and ask what I think, and I’m not sure, but I do know what I feel. I feel disillusioned at moments, and more often, I am embarrassed by my President’s actions. I watched about as much of his address to Congress last night as I could. The divisiveness of both his comments as well as both sides of the Congress are palpable. Donne’s words and Hemmingway’s novel, which I should perhaps reread, continue to ring through my ears, as I listened to last night’s address.

Recently, I listened to a United States senator and their response to one of the Talking Heads about what they could do. The reality is the Republicans control all three branches of our government, and I do mean branches. This is something we have done as an American public. It has created a pause for me, wondering two things: first, who are we as a country? and second, how did we get here? Even as a veteran, who has been proudly patriotic, but not nationalistic, I wonder if there is a place where I will feel comfortable in public? I am honestly not sure. For whom the bell tolls? I once asked that question as I walked across campus and the carillon rang out – I had just gotten my ass kicked in Dr. Hutton’s Greek final. Today, I ask it for myself again – are the arguments true the Democrats have become merely intellectuals, speaking about principle in a manner that matters not to the every day person? I find myself returning to my humanities classes, which encouraged intellectualism, but also being a good citizen. Have we lost the connection? I am certainly hoping that is not the case, but at the moment, it certainly seems to be the reality. There’s so much more I could write, and I hope that the reading of this might cause some to ponder how it all fits together.

Looking out at the snow, there was a beauty and a starkness to it. Parallels the world I seem to envision at this point. We are not an island, and what we do has consequence. We are part of the larger collective – being a humanist, using that term as someone who is related to others, I want to believe that we can overcome the present, overwhelming selfishness characterizing so much of what I see. For whom the bell tolls? If indeed, we are all connecting, the tolls for all of us. And to say it’s mournful, might be the most profound understatement I have ever written.

Thank you as always for reading.

Michael