Notes from the End of an Age

Photo by Charles Kinnaird

                       

As long as the sun and the moon are above,

As long as the bumblebee visits a rose,

 As long as rosy infants are born

No one believes it is happening now.

   ~ Czeslaw Milosz

   (From “A Song on the End of the World”)

This is how the world ends – not without struggle, yet so slowly and subtly that one can spend a lifetime in denial. Mislosz, in his poem, “A Song on the End of the World” depicts scenes “on the day the world ends” of everyday life that include a bee circling a clover, sparrows playing by a rain spout, and people going about their daily lives. He wrote as one who had indeed experienced world’s end, having witnessed life under two totalitarian regimes in Poland (first Nazi Germany then the Communist bloc). He gave us a clue about how world systems end.

Signs and Symptoms

We have seen and heard clues in the stories we tell. For example, those who give credence to the existence of ghosts often explain that ghosts are people who have suffered tragic deaths and linger in this world because they cannot accept the fact that they have died. This concept was skillfully presented in the 1999 film, Sixth Sense, starring Bruce Willis where we see a story of reluctant transition.

Could it be that the reason for our fascination with such tales is that those stories are signals from our own unconscious that the world as we know it has already passed? Our history books tell of civilizations that have come and gone, but how many who lived in those past civilizations realized that they were at the end of one age or at the beginning of another? Did the Fall of Rome make much difference to the fisherman and the farmer, or the weaver and the candlestick maker?

In our own day, the U.S.A. seems to be in the midst of transition. Half of the country wants to “protect our way of life” (as they see it) while the other half is frantically concerned with “preserving democracy” (or their understanding of it). Each side, while at odds with the other, looks back with reverence to stories of our founding fathers.

What we are seeing, however, is a society whose institutions are failing. Our educational institutions are increasingly ineffectual, our religious structures seem hollow even as they attempt to be relevant, and our government is paralyzed. We have a congress that for many years has been unable to legislate. The best they have been able to do is to go along with the executive orders of whoever happens to be president, to reluctantly pass 11^th hour budgets, and to frantically seek reelection. The truth is, so much of what we know is in the process of dying.  

Many of our major institutions – government, banking, schools, and churches – were born during the Industrial Revolution. We are living with 19th-century institutions and have not yet figured out how to organize ourselves in the post-industrial 21st century.

It is unthinkable for most of us to ask at what point the broken becomes past mending. Are we now living day to day, unable to see that the world we thought we lived in has ended? What would we do if we realized that the system has failed? What if the government which all parties left and right seek to rectify is beyond rescue?

Life at the End of an Age

Living at the end of an age might simply mean that we are caught between the times. Old societal structures are giving way to new structures more suitable for where society is moving. But where is society moving? It is difficult to tell when you are living between the times as we are today.

Looking at the sweep of history, one can get a sense of what structures were needed for different stages of our social development. What served the hunter-gatherer tribes was not sufficient for the agrarian city-states as urban life became possible. The Roman Empire was one of many organizational structures that arose as civilization continued to advance toward a global as well as urban orientation.

Just as those living at the end of the hunter-gatherer period or at the end of the Roman Empire could not see that they were at the end of an age and heading toward another, neither can we fully grasp where we are or where we are going.

Finding Our Way

This is how the world could end – with struggles over outmoded systems. One person honors the old while another celebrates the new – neither knows the outcome. Neither understands that the world has ended. Both are unable to see the dying embers. How then do we find our way?

When things fall apart, perhaps we can learn from those who have made a life in the margins. Minorities, refugees, and other displaced people often must learn to find connections within a society whose structures do not necessarily work for them.

Or perhaps we could think of what we do at the funeral wake or when sitting shiva. We tell stories of life; we pay our respects; we connect with friends; we learn the art of letting go; we heed the admonition to prove all things and hold fast that which is good.  For those who find themselves between the times, death throes and birth pangs are comingled. It is in our own small daily encounters that we carry our lives from one world to the next.  

                                                                                                                                     ~ Charles Kinnaird

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The Magic City Art Connection – and Birmingham’s Disconnect

I have spent some time on this blog over the past year extolling the good things about the city of Birmingham. I have been proud of the strides the city has taken in urban residential development, the creation of Railroad Park, bringing the Birmingham Barons back to the city, and hosting His Holiness the Dalai Lama during Human Rights Week. I regret to say, however, that our city leaders have taken a huge step backwards, as evidenced by the city's treatment of the Magic City Art Connection last weekend. Birmingham has decided that it will no longer waive fees for public events that require additional services from the city such as police, fire, and sanitation.  Therefore, the Magic City Art Connection will owe the city around $12,000.

For over thirty years the Magic City Art Connection has been a source of life and vitality for the city and a wonderful celebration of the creative arts. It has been a venue for local artists, students, and others to display their talents. It has also been a place to give children hands-on experience in artistic creation with their Imagination Festival workshops.

At one of the events years ago, a school teacher was using the event to celebrate the art of poetry. He was asking passersby to write a short poem on small paper flags which were then attached to long strings and draped along the trees in the park. I’m not one to sketch, draw or paint, but jotting down a poem, I can do.  I therefore took up the young teacher’s invitation. It became an opportunity to stop, look around and take in the sights and sounds around me. After a brief time of observing the gathering in the park, I wrote a short poem. My poem was attached, as requested, to one of the banners hanging from a tree, where it caught the breeze along with many other poems.  I also jotted it down and took it home as a remembrance of the day:

"Tree-wrapping" at a past
Magic City Art Connection event

In the Park

Sitting on the roots

   of an old oak tree

In the park

Watching children

Dance and pop bubbles

Being blown by a clown --

This is the reason

For civilization.

            

  

Unwelcome Financial Changes

This year, with the city of Birmingham charging fees for the use of Linn Park, patrons coming to the Magic City Art Connection had to pay to gain admission. My grown daughter and I attended, as we had done so many times in the past when she was growing up. This time, paying $5 to get in was a bit of a downer, but seeing temporary fencing surrounding the park, a lack of people freely coming and going, and smaller numbers in attendance was an even BIGGER downer. I missed the openness, the celebration, and the free-flow of people. There were also fewer vendors on hand to provide food and refreshments. John Archibald, columnist for The Birmingham News says that the city might as well throw out the "unwelcome mat."

  

In his column for the Sunday edition, “City of Birmingham: It takes (more) money to waste (your) money” Archibald takes the city council to task for its exorbitant spending on personal trips around the world, but denying requested funds to enable the police department to cover extra expenses for maintaining security at civic events such as the Magic City Art Connection. “Mayor William Bell, with the tact of a SWAT team and the grace of a water buffalo,” Archibald wrote,  “earlier this year issued an edict saying the city would – ‘due to economic reasons’ -- no longer waive fees for city services at events and festivals like this weekend's Magic City Art Connection. So that festival, which has drawn people downtown for three decades, will get a city bill for at least $12,000.”

The kicker, as John Archibald states, is that the city is not being fiscally responsible as a whole. He presents a glaring comparison: “We know every time a Birmingham Council member wants to fly to Washington DC -- which is just about every week -- the city will drop $5,000 like it's hot. And that's about the same amount the city wants to charge for charity road races that bring thousands downtown and raise money for the city's most deprived people.”

I am certainly on board with what Archibald is saying. Surely the goodwill, the influx of visitors with money to spend, and the event itself would bring the kind of publicity and promotion that a vibrant city needs. If the city of Birmingham continues this penny wise and pound foolish measure of refusing to waive fees for special events, those events may follow the city council members’ lead and do some travelling themselves – to cities that are more welcoming.

Setting Up Barriers

My daughter Elaine, who is an artist in her own right, was even more dismayed by the barriers in evidence at this year’s festival. She saw “that awful fence” that surrounded the park as representative of a wider barrier – the barrier between the poor and cultural expression. “Too many people think that art is somehow above them, out of their reach and out of their comprehension. How many times do we hear,” she pointed out, “I don’t know art, but I know what I like? Easy access,” she says, “teaches children about the accessibility of art and removes elitism.” She was sad to see the city create yet another barrier between art and the people. “Five dollars (the price of admission for the day) isn’t much to us, but what about the families that rely on public assistance? These are the very people who we want to reach the most.”

From the 2014 Magic City Arts Connection

Students involved in a
2008 workshop 

Furthermore, my daughter was concerned about the impression that visitors may have. “Art fairs like this draw people from all over the country who want to show and sell their work,” she noted. “We want to give them a good impression of our city.”  One artist we talked with who works in ceramics came down from Indiana. She had a booth with many attractive items for sale. Indeed, for 32 years the Magic City Art Connection has attracted artists and artisans from far and wide, and has introduced children and adults to the many and wonderful means of artistic expression. 

Keeping the “Magic” in the Magic City

The irony is that for all of those years when Birmingham seemed to be foundering, losing its economic footing, wondering how it could keep living up to the “Magic City” moniker of its industrial heyday, it always found a way to support these special events. Now that our city is beginning to re-emerge as the up-and-coming city of the South, we are hit with this policy reversal from city hall in its refusing to grant the needed funds for community events.

Let’s hope that in the future wiser minds will prevail so that the police, fire, and sanitation departments can be adequately funded to serve special events the way they have in the past. Demonstrating to everyone that our city can find a way to promote special events like the Magic City Art Connection is one way we can continue to live up to “the Magic City” heritage. With the momentum of new and exciting developments that are making Birmingham an attractive place, let’s not nickel and dime our way back into the doldrums of the recent past by continued refusal to waive fees for beneficial public events.

Booths where artists display and sell their work

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All photos are were taken from the Magic City Art Connection website and AL.com



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About My Father's Business: A Father's Day Remembrance

(For Father's Day, I am reposting a blog entry that first ran in September 10, 2010)

"I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves.” – Albert Einstein

Clyde Kinnaird

A friend once asked me, "What motivated your father to be different from those around him?" Certainly that is the underlying question that motivated the essays I have written about him, and it probably influences much of my response to life. The question itself is much more effective than any specific answer that might be given. Some questions are best left out there calling to us, rather than giving definitive answers. I imagine that if my siblings were to answer that question, you would get some similarities, but many specifics would be different. So you see, any answer I give may say as much about myself and my opinions (by what I choose to remember) as it does about my father. With that in mind, I will tell you a little more about my father, "Pop," as we called him.

On Baptismal day

Clyde Kinnaird was a Baptist minister and educator. He pastored small churches in Alabama. Later on his career he became "bi-vocational" when he began teaching in the public school system while continuing as pastor in rural churches. Unlike most Baptist preachers, his sermons were more often taken from the sayings of Jesus than from the teachings of Paul. In fact, when I picture my father in the pulpit, I have a simultaneous image in my mind of Jesus teaching on the hillside. To this day, when I think of Christ, I see the teaching Jesus and the compassionate Jesus rather than the crucified Christ. I can thank my father for that image.

Pop bringing me down to the waters of baptism at Lake Martin, August 1964

After my father died in 1996, I became especially conscious of the influence he had in his own unpretentious way. When I delivered the eulogy at my mother's funeral, three and a half years after my father's passing, I said, "Both of my parents left the world a little better than they found it. That is their inspiration and challenge to those of us who remain." It is that realization that caused me to do some reflection and to ask myself what kind of influence my own life may have.

One reason I began writing essays was to put down in writing what I believe and what I value. My thinking is that it is of benefit to me to express it, and if nothing else, my daughter will have a written record of what is important to me. I wish that my father had written things down, but he was not one to write. I have two notebooks of sermons written by my maternal grandfather (whom I never met), but not a single note or letter from my father. I have to rely on memories and recollections of what he said and did. In reality, though, memories and recollections are all that anyone has of their father.

Growing up in Centreville

Pop was born in 1910, the seventh of nine children, in Centreville, Alabama. He was born 45 years after the Civil War ended. My father's parents and grandparents had current memory of living in a defeated nation and an occupied territory, while at the same time being absolutely patriotic with an undeniable love for their country. Pop spent his childhood with horses and wagons, and as a young adult, he was a mechanic who worked on Model A's and Model T's. His father, "Lud", was a rough-and-tough rascal who made a living farming, running a black smith shop, driving a taxi, and serving at least one term as road commissioner. His mother was the local midwife who was known in the community as "Aunt Claudia."

Apparently, he knew early on that he would be a minister. Pop told us of an experience he had at five years of age. He said he was out in the yard playing and was overcome by an unusual feeling, or sensation. He could not fully describe it, but he said he knew then that he would be a preacher. He recalled that he ran inside and told his mother, "Mama, I'm going to be a preacher."

To me, this sounds like a mystical experience that would have been precocious at that age. The way I interpret it is that my father became aware that he was living in the presence of something far greater than himself, and that awareness was an uplifting, comforting experience. My father's explanation would probably lie in something I often heard him say, "Sometimes God gives us a little taste of Heaven just to assure us that everything will be alright." Compare this to Einstein's question, "Is the universe a friendly place?" My father would have said, "Absolutely!" A mystic like Meister Eckhart would say, "Without a doubt."

Pop graduated from high school in 1928. I once looked through his senior yearbook that a classmate had sent him late in life. I was struck by how optimistic his class was in their statements and dreams of going out into the world. I was also impressed with the good-natured humor I found in those pages. The class prophet said of my father, "Clyde Kinnaird thought he was going to be the next Charles Lindbergh and fly across the Atlantic. He hopped into an aeroplane and made it across the Cahaba River. He landed in a field, thinking he was in Paris." It was especially poignant to me as I read the upbeat messages of that class, knowing that those graduates in 1928 had no idea what lay ahead in 1929 when the Great Depression hit.

Moving On During the Depression

My father claimed that the Depression did not have much noticeable effect on his community because most people in their small agrarian town had very little money anyway. Nevertheless, I cannot help thinking that the Depression influenced the timing of my father's higher education. He did not go to college until six years after graduating high school. It must have been a call to ministry that motivated his going on to Howard College in 1934, in the middle of the Depression, without enough money to make it through the first year. Even then, at a time when many Baptist preachers had no higher education, my father completed college and seminary.

One person my father admired, and who surely must have influenced him, was a retired missionary to China, Dr. Napier, who came to pastor the First Baptist Church of Centreville. "Up until then, we had not had an educated pastor in the pulpit. Most pastors would come and stay about 18 months. By then, they would have preached all their sermons and would move on." Dr. Napier, my father recalled, would carry books with him to the pulpit and share with the congregation what scholars had written about various scriptures. "We had never had anything like that before."

Dr. Napier's son, Davie, also must have had some influence on my father. They were both at Southern Seminary at the same time and would often ride home together. Many times while I was growing up, I would hear Pop comment about something Davie Napier had said. Davie Napier went on to become a renowned professor at Yale Divinity School, a United Church of Christ Minister, and chaplain at Stanford University. Somewhere along the way, my father latched onto the conviction that education and religion were vital to individual and community development. If the Napiers did not instill the idea, they surely encouraged it.

A Career and a Mission

Pop showing my daughter
how to shuck corn

Pop said late in his career that he had essentially done mission work all his life. I think that is very true. He spent his life, by deed and example, trying to bring education and religion to the farmers, mill workers, housekeepers, laborers, and merchants of Alabama. On the one hand, I could tell that my father was often frustrated by the lack of education and the dearth of thoughtful religion among his peers. One the other hand, he demonstrated a sincere respect for people whether they were rich or poor, educated or uneducated. He brought dignity to the pulpit and to the classroom, but always related to the working class and the working poor. After all, his own family were farmers and working class people and he himself had been a garage mechanic who went off to college to "make a minister." He was never interested in moving up the social ladder. Pop considered such actions "uppity and pretentious."

He was a conservative man from the Old South who took some remarkable stands and had some progressive ideas. More important, he left his corner of the world a little better than he found it. My father understood when I left the Southern Baptists after fundamentalism had become so rampant and entrenched. I think, though, that he regretted that I was living with the same frustrations that he had lived with. I may be a little more open to change than Pop was. In some ways, maybe I am a little more tolerant, but that is only because I learned from his example of granting dignity to others and showing respect for all.

Attributes of Distinction

If I may recapitulate, perhaps I can sum up my answer to my friend's question of what motivated my father to be different from those around him:

1) He saw education and religion as two avenues for improvement. Pop had a strong commitment to continuing education and a striving toward thoughtful religion (he used to say that religion should be reasonable).

2) He believed in showing dignity and respect for every person, regardless of their social standing.

3) He believed that the Universe is a friendly place.

If I can hang on to those things from here on out, I think it would do my daddy proud.



In Memoriam: Richard Clyde Kinnaird, Sr.
September 8,1910- December 18,1996

For more about my father, check out these other posts:

Trust Yourself: A Message form my Father

A Local Hero


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About My Father's Business

"I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves.” – Albert Einstein

A friend once asked me, "What motivated your father to be different from those around him?" Certainly that is the underlying question that motivated the essays I have written about him, and it probably influences much of my response to life. The question itself is much more effective than any specific answer that might be given. Some questions are best left out there calling to us, rather than giving definitive answers. I imagine that if my siblings were to answer that question, you would get some similarities, but many specifics would be different. So you see, any answer I give may say as much about myself and my opinions (by what I choose to remember) as it does about my father. With that in mind, I will tell you a little more about my father, "Pop," as we called him.

He was a Baptist minister and educator. Unlike most Baptist preachers, his sermons were more often taken from the sayings of Jesus than from the teachings of Paul. In fact, when I picture my father in the pulpit, I have a simultaneous image in my mind of Jesus teaching on the hillside. To this day, when I think of Christ, I see the teaching Jesus and the compassionate Jesus rather than the crucified Christ. I can thank my father for that image.

After my father died, I became especially conscious of the influence he had in his own unpretentious way. When I delivered the eulogy at my mother's funeral, three and a half years after my father's passing, I said, "Both of my parents left the world a little better than they found it. That is their inspiration and challenge to those of us who remain." It is that realization that caused me to do some reflection and to ask myself what kind of influence my own life may have.

One reason I began writing essays was to put down in writing what I believe and what I value. My thinking is that it is of benefit to me to express it, and if nothing else, my daughter will have a written record of what is important to me. I wish that my father had written things down, but he was not one to write. I have two notebooks of sermons written by my maternal grandfather (whom I never met), but not a single note or letter from my father. I have to rely on memories and recollections of what he said and did. In reality, though, memories and recollections are all that anyone has of their father.

Growing up in Centreville

Pop was born in 1910, the seventh of nine children, in Centreville, Alabama. He was born 45 years after the Civil War ended. My father's parents and grandparents had current memory of living in a defeated nation and an occupied territory, while at the same time being absolutely patriotic with an undeniable love for their country. Pop spent his childhood with horses and wagons, and as a young adult, he was a mechanic who worked on Model A's and Model T's. His father, "Lud", was a rough-and-tough rascal who made a living farming, running a black smith shop, driving a taxi, and serving at least one term as road commissioner. His mother was the local midwife who was known in the community as "Aunt Claudia."

Apparently, he knew early on that he would be a minister. Pop told us of an experience he had at five years of age. He said he was out in the yard playing and was overcome by an unusual feeling, or sensation. He could not fully describe it, but he said he knew then that he would be a preacher. He recalled that he ran inside and told his mother, "Mama, I'm going to be a preacher."

To me, this sounds like a mystical experience that would have been precocious at that age. The way I interpret it is that my father became aware that he was living in the presence of something far greater than himself, and that awareness was an uplifting, comforting experience. My father's explanation would probably lie in something I often heard him say, "Sometimes God gives us a little taste of Heaven just to assure us that everything will be alright." Compare this to Einstein's question, "Is the universe a friendly place?" My father would have said, "Absolutely!" A mystic like Meister Eckhart would say, "Without a doubt."

Pop graduated from high school in 1928. I once looked through his senior yearbook that a classmate had sent him late in life. I was struck by how optimistic his class was in their statements and dreams of going out into the world. I was also impressed with the good-natured humor I found in those pages. The class prophet said of my father, "Clyde Kinnaird thought he was going to be the next Charles Lindbergh and fly across the Atlantic. He hopped into an aeroplane and made it across the Cahaba River. He landed in a field, thinking he was in Paris." It was especially poignant to me as I read the upbeat messages of that class, knowing that those graduates in 1928 had no idea what lay ahead in 1929 when the Great Depression hit.

Moving On During the Depression

My father claimed that the Depression did not have much noticeable effect on his community because most people in their small agrarian town had very little money anyway. Nevertheless, I cannot help thinking that the Depression influenced the timing of my father's higher education. He did not go to college until six years after graduating high school. It must have been a call to ministry that motivated his going on to Howard College in 1934, in the middle of the Depression, without enough money to make it through the first year. Even then, at a time when many Baptist preachers had no higher education, my father completed college and seminary.

One person my father admired, and who surely must have influenced him, was a retired missionary to China, Dr. Napier, who came to pastor the First Baptist Church of Centreville. "Up until then, we had not had an educated pastor in the pulpit. Most pastors would come and stay about 18 months. By then, they would have preached all their sermons and would move on." Dr. Napier, my father recalled, would carry books with him to the pulpit and share with the congregation what scholars had written about various scriptures. "We had never had anything like that before."

Dr. Napier's son, Davie, also must have had some influence on my father. They were both at Southern Seminary at the same time and would often ride home together. Many times while I was growing up, I would hear Pop comment about something Davie Napier had said. Davie Napier went on to become a renowned professor at Yale Divinity School, a United Church of Christ Minister, and chaplain at Stanford University. Somewhere along the way, my father latched onto the conviction that education and religion were vital to individual and community development. If the Napiers did not instill the idea, they surely encouraged it.

A Career and a Mission

Pop said late in his career that he had essentially done mission work all his life. I think that is very true. He spent his life, by deed and example, trying to bring education and religion to the farmers, mill workers, housekeepers, laborers, and merchants of Alabama. On the one hand, I could tell that my father was often frustrated by the lack of education and the dearth of thoughtful religion among his peers. One the other hand, he demonstrated a sincere respect for people whether they were rich or poor, educated or uneducated. He brought dignity to the pulpit and to the classroom, but always related to the working class and the working poor. After all, his own family were farmers and working class people and he himself had been a garage mechanic who went off to college to "make a minister." He was never interested in moving up the social ladder. Pop considered such actions "uppity and pretentious."

He was a conservative man from the Old South who took some remarkable stands and had some progressive ideas. More important, he left his corner of the world a little better than he found it. My father understood when I left the Southern Baptists after fundamentalism had become so rampant and entrenched. I think, though, that he regretted that I was living with the same frustrations that he had lived with. I may be a little more open to change than Pop was. In some ways, maybe I am a little more tolerant, but that is only because I learned from his example of granting dignity to others and showing respect for all.

Attributes of Distinction

If I may recapitulate, perhaps I can sum up my answer to my friend's question of what motivated my father to be different from those around him:

1) He saw education and religion as two avenues for improvement. Pop had a strong commitment to continuing education and a striving toward thoughtful religion (he used to say that religion should be reasonable).

2) He believed in showing dignity and respect for every person, regardless of their social standing.

3) He believed that the Universe is a friendly place.

If I can hang on to those things from here on out, I think it would do my daddy proud.



In Memoriam: Richard Clyde Kinnaird, Sr.
September 8,1910- December 18,1996



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