Mr. Carter, Just One More Song

I’ll never forget the first time I heard him sing the notes of praise that gently and joyfully filled the hallway. I rounded the corner to discover the source of my concert coming from a slightly rotund man directing two special needs students to the bathroom. I stood and stared as the door closed. Still the words “Oh my Jesus...” wafted down the hall.
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I had met Reggie Carter: Para-professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. Someone who I would call my friend. Every day, Mr. Carter and Larry would pick up the recycle paper. Larry has downs syndrome, is a full fledged character and loved nothing more than escaping Mr. Carter’s watchful eye and running to momentary freedom down the hall. Larry laughing in escape. Mr. Carter laughing in pursuit. Captured and returned, Larry and Mr. Carter singing, pushing a cart of recycle paper. Mr. Carter succeeded in potty-training Larry, and never lost his song.
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Mornings, I’d see Mr. Carter sitting at a table with four students, helping one to eat, encouraging another to feed himself, singing a praise song in response to the temper tantrum of a third. Carrying trash for those who could not. Encouraging those who could not.
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At lunch Mr. Carter walked backwards with outstretched hands to make sure Donnie did not spill his plate. Donnie is autistic. Mr. Carter was filling the cafeteria with a spontaneous song celebrating Donnie’s success in carrying his plate. And did they celebrate. Donnie carried his plate all the way from the lunch line to his seat. We were treated to a song and a dance! Hurrah! The next day, Donnie took two steps and the plate fell from his trembling hands to the floor. Mr. Carter cleaned it up with a smile and started a new song of encouragement all over. From the beginning. Because in another week or two weeks or month, Donnie would again carry his plate all by himself all the way to his table. And Mr. Carter would then sing and clap and dance and celebrate Donnie’s new success.
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Some days I’d arrive at school to see Mr. Carter sitting on the steps, awaiting the bus, reading his Bible. I was greeted to another day with a smile, a laugh and maybe the last line of an old joke we had shared a hundred times before.
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The writer of the Book of James said, you tell me of you faith by your words, I will show you my faith by my deeds. Had James the brother of our Lord met Mr. Carter, our Bibles might well have read, Mr. Religious stuffed shirt, you may tell me of your faith with your words, but Mr. Carter will show you real faith by his deeds.
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He saw no color. He helped others see no color. Ready to use, refusing to abuse working relationships he made everyone seem like a special friend, and I think we were. He’d sing a song, say a prayer and then look at a coworker with a twinkle in his eye and they’d say together, “Super Twin Power Activate!”, no child, no tantrum, no crisis could withstand this united assault of super-power twin love. If Satan was autistic, Reggie Carter would have stormed the gates of Hell with a water pistol, firmly believing he could have brought him God’s love, a song and the expectation that Old Scratch would indeed clean up his act before the bus came.
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Never a discouraging word, never a negative comment, the answer was always the same; “I’m just too blessed to be stressed.” And always a song.
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If there is a tragedy in Mr. Carter’s life it is that the upper and middle management powers at the District Big House had time to make contradictory policy, in-effective rules and pointless programs, but they never had time to get to know God’s Ambassador in their own department. Had these anointed leaders watched this precious servant, they would have been reborn as true leaders. It never happened.
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I could go on with a hundred more stories in the classroom and on the playground. A hundred more songs: playing in the gym and getting on the bus. But let’s just say Reggie Carter lived a life of ministry in every setting, in every circumstance and he always did it armed with a smile and a song. Suffice it to say, Mr. Reggie Carter preached as eloquent a sermon while pushing a recycle cart as the best paid minister has ever preached from the highest pulpit in a downtown church.
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As soon as I am done writing these words I will return to the same school, the same halls. There will be Donnie. There will be Larry. There will be a cart of recycle paper. There will be students eating in the cafeteria. But there will not be a song or Mr. Carter.
*
I am glad Reggie Carter has gone to sing in the halls of Heaven. But I am sad that we have lost Para professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. I am sad I have lost my friend. I am sad, Mr. Carter, that I can’t hear you sing just one more song.

Are Right-Wing Christians Christian or Just Right-Wing?

One: The United States has enough money to blow Iraqis and Afghanistanis to Hell in little pieces. Two: The Rush Hannibekis say we don’t have the same amount of money to heal the poor and needy in the United States. Three: Why do we have the money to kill but do not have the money to heal?
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One: The majority of right-wing conservatives claim to be Christians. Two: Jesus (the guy who held the original copyright on Christianity) healed multitudes and killed not a single Roman, Samaritan or Canaanite. Three: Upon what moral grounds does the majority of right-wing Christians support spending for war and oppose equal spending for healthcare?
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One: Most Christians claim the entire Bible is the word of God. Two: From the prophets to Jesus Christ, God condemns the religious and self-righteous who refused help to the poor and needy. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds does the religious right-wing damn health care?
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One: Christians took the lead in the fight for free, government paid public education for all. Two: Although late in coming, Christians finally took the lead in the governmental eradication of slavery. Three: Upon what moral or religious grounds are right-wing Christians sitting on their wallet-protecting hands while opposing government healthcare for the poor and needy?
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Are Right-Wing Christians Christian or Just Right-Wing?

Obama-Haters. Your Slip is Showing!

Rush Hannibecks and their hate-mongering ilk dropped all pretense of civility, principle and patriotic loyalty when the 2012 Olympics was awarded to Rio de Janeiro. Right-Wing think tanks erupted into applause. Rush Limbaugh jumped up and down in giddy joy as he chortled “The Ego Has Landed!”
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These hypocritical vipers, who claim their opposition to Obama isn’t personal, but based on “Principle” were silent to the last one when George Bush voiced his support for Chicago’s Olympic bid.
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Said Bush, “They say that the Olympics will come to Chicago if we are fortunate enough to be selected. It’s coming to America. I can’t think of a better city to represent the United States than Chicago. This country supports your bid strongly."
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The Rush Hannibecks, who wrap themselves in the flag and self inflated patriotic pomposity, rejoice gleefully when the United States loses the Olympic bid. American looses and they give standing ovations. For this they have no defense. What kind of twisted gutter-dwellers claim patriotism, while laughing, applauding and cheering when the country their lips claim – loses? The people who justify themselves by listening to their broadcasts are little better.
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They hid behind their lies, but their true nature burst out in such brilliant clarity, they can hide their true intent no longer.

Where Have You Gone Henry Bellmon? Our State Turns Its Lonely Eyes to You.

I loved the times, when as a child, the family would sit in my grandparents’ living room. It was customarily after a holiday get-together. Dinner dished had been washed and put away. Grandma often passed a box of homemade candy and talk would go to “back in the day”.
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Ancestor stories and legends from days gone by were told with relish and glowing descriptors. We knew every one by heart, but loved to hear them again: the times Grandpa and Uncle Melvin would stir up a skunk’s nest every time they didn’t want to go to school, the day Great Grandfather Jackman caught Grandpa and Uncle Melvin running around the yard in the schoolmarm’s bloomers, or the time Grandfather saw Teddy Roosevelt and got to shake the President’s hand.
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We also heard great stories of steadfast men and women who took courageous stands for the right, whether it was popular or not. People who suffered hardship, personal loss and ridicule because they stood for the right, not the popular. As my family was keen on honesty, the stories never became exaggerated or changed. We knew they were stories to believe.
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At he end of the evening, Grandfather or Grandmother would bring the benediction with the blessing, “Well, those were the days. We could sure use people like that today”.
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I felt that way when I heard the sad news that former Governor and Senator, Henry Bellmon had lost a courageous fight with Parkinson’s disease. Henry Bellmon was just plain good. He was a statesman, not a politician and refused to walk in the sewer of back room politics. He was polite, forthright, honest and always tried to do what he felt was right. He refused to settle for political expedience when his morals demanded thee right decision. Shunning the hardliners he took difficult stands in voting to return the Panama Canal to Panama and pushing through monumental Public Education legislation which stands yet today as the Legislature’s historical public education high watermark.
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Uppermost, Governor Bellmon was a man of deep spiritual faith. Refusing to wear his religion on his sleeve, his beliefs were never prostituted for political gain. Simply put, he lived his values, he didn’t pimp them for votes.
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Naturally these traits, his moderate views, private religious values and sincere personal respect for philosophical opponents alienated him from his own party. Aborted by right-wing fanatics, he was shunned by those who had so much to learn. It sad that Democrats are in no position to cast stones across the aisle.
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Saddest of all is that Henry Bellmon’s life takes its place among the ancestor stories of great statesmen, “Back in the day.” Mr. Bellmon, we already miss you.