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Judgement and forgiveness

Published by DJB

Why do we find it so easy to judge and so hard to forgive?

Part of the answer might lie in the fact that holding grudges and passing judgement can seem so satisfying. As Tim Herrera wrote in a recent New York Times article, we may actually like them, as we “tend to them as little pets.” Anne Lamott, writing in her inimitable (some would say snarky) style in Hallelujah Anyway: Rediscovering Mercy, captures the same push-pull attraction when she says,

“Kindness towards others and radical kindness to ourselves buy us a shot at a warm and generous heart, which is the greatest prize of all. Do you want this, or do you want to be right? Well, can I get back to you on that?”

In our time of extreme political polarization, it may be difficult to identify the humanity amidst the ideology. The more we see religion, politics and life as a winner-take-all battle full of zero-sum calculations, forgiveness seems quaint — a lost art or forgotten concept.

This was on my mind as I entered the American Film Institute (AFI) Silver Theater last Saturday afternoon. The AFI Docs Film Festival in Washington and Silver Spring was the attraction, and there I was fortunate to see an astonishing new work: Gay Chorus Deep South. The film’s website sets up the story.

“In response to a wave of discriminatory anti-LGBTQ laws in Southern states and the divisive 2016 election, the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus embarks on a tour of the American Deep South.

Led by Gay Chorus Conductor Dr. Tim Seelig and joined by The Oakland Interfaith Gospel Choir; the tour brings a message of music, love and acceptance, to communities and individuals confronting intolerance. Over 300 singers travelled from Mississippi to Tennessee through the Carolinas and over the bridge in Selma. They performed in churches, community centers and concert halls in hopes of uniting us in a time of difference. The journey also challenges Tim and other Chorus members who fled the South to confront their own fears, pain and prejudices on a journey towards reconciliation. The conversations and connections that emerge offer a glimpse of a less divided America, where the things that divide us; faith, politics, sexual identity are set aside by the soaring power of music, humanity and a little drag.”

The Director, David Charles Rodrigues, spoke after the showing about his desire to make a film that, in the light of growing hate and intolerance, looked at our need to step back and begin “judging our judgements.”

Today we are quick to judge both those we know and those we don’t know. In our news cycle, the pundits who make judgement the centerpiece of their arguments seem to be the ones who command most of the air time. It is all too easy to judge someone who is “different.”

On the other hand, we find it hard to forgive “the other” yet we too easily forget that we are the ones who may most need forgiveness. That can be hard. We need to believe we are worthy of forgiveness and — if we have chosen hatred and intolerance — that we can change our minds.

Philosopher Hannah Arendt, in her book The Human Condition, said:

“Without being forgiven, released from the consequences of what we have done, our capacity to act would, as it were, be confined to one single deed from which we could never recover; we would remain the victims of its consequences forever, not unlike the sorcerer’s apprentice who lacked the formula to break the spell.”

The film had multiple stories of decades-old grudges, judgements, and separation between family, friends, and churches. It showed how those involved were the victims of the consequences of those decisions. What the Gay Men’s Chorus set out to do through their tour was to begin conversations. What these 300 singers ended up doing was to begin the process of forgiveness and healing.

Learning to forgive takes practice. But we need to understand that holding on to a judgement or a grudge is not a very good strategy for a useful life. Dr. Frederic Luskin, founder of the Stanford Forgiveness Project, suggests we,

“Get the right perspective on what is happening. Recognize that your primary distress is coming from the hurt feelings, thoughts and physical upset you are suffering now, not what offended you or hurt you two minutes — or ten years — ago.”

Judging our judgements is a good path towards forgiveness, reconciliation, and ultimately that warm and generous heart.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Image by Myriam Zilles from Pixabay

Blowing the Doors Off the Joint

Published by DJB

“You Can’t Make This Stuff Up” is the theme of this week’s AFI Docs Film Festival in Washington, where some 70 documentaries will be shown in theatres across the city over five days. To get myself in shape, I spent Sunday and Monday watching two documentaries that are not part of the festival but are currently playing in the area. One tried — and only partially succeeded — in reaching the standards suggested by the theme. The other is a masterpiece simply because it captures a treasure at the height of her powers. As one reviewer phrased it, “She blew the doors off the joint.”

But let’s start with the less-satisfying of the two.

Echo in the Canyon, currently playing at the E Street Cinema, is a documentary about the legendary Laurel Canyon music scene in Los Angeles from the mid-1960s. The film focuses on the music of The Byrds, The Beach Boys, Buffalo Springfield, and The Mamas and the Papas, and the hook is a 2015 tribute concert from current-day fans Jakob Dylan (Bob’s son), Fiona Apple, Beck, and others. As Dylan says to kick off the concert, “Are you ready to go back to the 60s?”

Well, much like the decade (and yes, I was there for some of it), the film has its ups and downs. The music at the time was exciting and I agree that these four bands all played influential roles. But the telling of the story here is somewhat confused, and there’s too much of Dylan and his friends talking earnestly about the staying power of the music.

Here’s what I liked:

Michelle Phillips, who was insightful and funny from the time she first came on screen. I loved the comment “If The Byrds can have a hit, anybody can have a hit,” a sentiment which sent The Mamas and The Papas from New York to LA.
Watching Stephen Stills and Eric Clapton record a new guitar solo while on different continents (even in Stills’ reduced capacity as a musician these days).
Nora Jones. My God, when she sang a duet of The Association‘s Never My Love with Jakob Dylan, it was clear that she was the most talented of the newcomers to this music, by a factor of about 10.
Simply being reminded of some great tunes and hearing about the cross-pollination of sounds and music.

Here’s what I didn’t like:

Where was Joni Mitchell? How can you do a movie on Laurel Canyon and the California sound and have the only mention of Mitchell being Stephen Stills briefly talking about when they dated.
Jakob Dylan’s interviewing style. Several times the camera lingers after a comment, just to show you how cool he is.
The fact that there is no reference to why this period ended. I kept waiting to hear about the Monterey Pop Festival and how much of the attention shifted in 1967 to San Francisco and the Summer of Love, or — more definitively — the Manson murders and the fear that spread throughout the area in 1969. But nothing. Just “puff” and it was over.
It was never clear if the movie was making the point that there was a “Laurel Canyon sound” or whether just a bunch of musicians happened to live in close proximity to each other.

So while Echo In the Canyon was enjoyable, it could have been much more.

On the other hand, Amazing Grace, the movie of Aretha Franklin’s 1972 recording of the gospel album of the same name, is—like the lady herself—a national treasure. Currently showing at AFI Silver Theatre in Silver Spring, this is a 90-minute church service.

Hallelujah!

In 1972, Franklin was at the top of her game, with 11 number one singles and five Grammy awards. It was at that time that she decided to return to her roots — the black Baptist church — and record a gospel album. And she literally returned to church, Watts’ New Temple Missionary Baptist Church, for a live recording over two evenings of the songs she grew up singing. This movie, a long-lost documentary that went through technical and legal challenges, captures the recording sessions.

Where to start? Well, probably with that voice. There has never been another singer like Aretha Franklin. If you don’t believe me, just watch her command the stage with all the other divas of her day in the remarkable performance of (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman. That voice is everywhere in Amazing Grace. Franklin barely speaks ten words during the movie, but she opens her mouth and that sound comes out.

Did I mention that the album was the best selling record of her career, as well as the best-selling gospel album of all time? There’s a reason for that.

The Reverend James Cleveland, who was a gospel legend himself, serves as part master of ceremonies and part preacher. He could have tried to steal the show, but probably knew—in his heart—that it wasn’t really possible. In his introduction, he notes that Aretha could “Sing anything . . . even Three Blind Mice.” Here he plays solid back-up to the Queen. When her whole being goes into another world during the song Amazing Grace, however, Cleveland is literally overcome. He gets up from his piano to sob into a towel. It is an arresting, emotional moment.

The Southern California Community Choir, under the energetic direction of Alexander Hamilton, makes it all look so effortless while sporting some great Afros from the 1970s. The small church is partially filled on the first night. However, by night number two the word has clearly gotten around, as the camera finds gospel legend Clara Ward; Aretha’s father, the Rev. C.L. Franklin; and none other than Mick Jagger in the audience . . . all going to church as Franklin testifies on song-after-song.

Odie Henderson wrote a terrific movie review from the point of view of a former choir member in the African American church. In it, he captures one special moment just after Aretha’s father finished speaking:

“Rev. Franklin’s words are followed by his daughter singing the first song she ever recorded, Never Grow Old, or, as we kids used to call it in church, ‘the song where they have to start dragging people out of here.’ My viewing partner, Steven Boone, and I exchanged a knowing glance just before the congregation erupted with people catching the Holy Ghost and needing to be restrained. Meanwhile, Re’s singing and her piano playing blew the doors off the joint, creating a moment of transcendence I’ve never experienced in a theater before.”

The whole movie is a powerful spiritual moment no matter what you believe. Get yourself to a theatre and see it, if at all possible.

And now, after going to church, I’m ready for a week-long documentary festival!

More to come…

DJB

Rambling through the Cotswold countryside

Daydreaming Makes a Comeback

Published by DJB

“Life is already too short to waste on speed.”

I became a fan of daydreaming while on sabbatical.

Daydreaming has a long history, but in today’s culture of speed and action the idea of doing nothing generally has negative connotations. It goes by many names: boredom, weariness, ennui, lack of enthusiasm, lack of interest, apathy, sluggishness, malaise, tedium, tediousness, dullness, monotony, repetitiveness, routine, humdrum, dreariness . . . well, you get the point.

Cotswold Public Footpath — The public footpath out of Moreton-in-Marsh in the Cotswolds

I’m happy to report that the positive aspects of daydreaming are making a comeback.

When I had the time on sabbatical to stop and reflect, I realized that I was often busy simply for the sake of being (or looking) busy. If I was busy I was doing important work. But I began to realize that being constantly busy wasn’t healthy, productive, or fun. A number of authors have written that there is a creative purpose to daydreaming, even to boredom. So while in Rome, I took up the habit of a daily walk without any sense of purpose other than just to exist in that space. To daydream. I enjoyed how it made me feel but admit that I had the nagging thought that while this may work in one of the world’s great cities, Silver Spring certainly isn’t Rome!

Nonetheless, upon returning to the real world I began finding time in my days to step aside from the busyness and just be; to practice the positive sides of daydreaming. That often involved walking, but not always. Sitting at a coffee shop and just enjoying the people watching became an outlet. My assistant at work became use to me saying, “I’m going to stretch my legs for a bit.” I encouraged others on my team to do the same, because it was easy to see colleagues who filled their hours with busyness, yet were not productive, focused, or excited about their work.

Office guitar — The (home) office guitar

Edward Abbey once wrote, “Life is already too short to waste on speed.” I’ve come to embrace that approach.

Now that I am working from home, I’ve found new ways to support my habit of doing nothing. My morning walks through downtown Silver Spring have stretched to an hour or more in length. No music, no podcasts, just my wonderful Filter Coffeehouse canteen and my trusty shoes. And once I do get down to work, I still think about ways to break up the day. I’ve always wanted to have a guitar next to my desk but figured that the practice would be frowned upon in an open office setting. Less than two weeks into my gap year I brought up a chair and little Taylor travel guitar, placing them near my desk in the home office. When I decide to take a break from writing I’ll pull out the guitar and noodle. I’m not practicing* but simply letting my mind wander.

Rambling with the sheep — Sharing the public footpath with some four legged friends

Earlier this month I returned my daydreaming act to the international stage. While in London, I took morning walks along High Street in Kensington, stopping along the way to sit for a while and daydream over a cup of coffee. In the Cotswolds I took advantage of the many public footpaths to ramble, a fine English tradition supported by the legally protected right of citizens and visitors to travel on foot through fields and countryside. For our first ramble we had a bit of a purpose, in that we had a destination in mind; but I returned later in the week primarily to do nothing more than move at a leisurely pace, letting my mind and feet wander.

Imagine my surprise when the New York Times had a recent article entitled The Case for Doing Nothing. The writer, Olga Mecking, suggests that busyness is rarely “the status indicator we’ve come to believe it is. Nonetheless, the impact is real, and instances of burnout, anxiety disorders and stress-related diseases are on the rise, not to mention millennial burnout.”

A friend recently encouraged me to leave blank time on my calendar. Mecking makes the same point as she introduces the Dutch concept of niksen:

“…the idea of niksen is to take conscious, considered time and energy to do activities like gazing out of a window or sitting motionless. The less-enlightened might call such activities “lazy” or “wasteful.” Again: nonsense.

. . . study after study shows that feeling drowsy, exhausted or otherwise mentally depleted during the workday drastically hinders performance and productivity. In other words: Whether at home or at work, permission granted to spend the afternoon just hanging out.”

Rarely a trendsetter, I was nonetheless glad to see others embrace the positive side of daydreaming. Of boredom. Of doing nothing. It truly can be where the magic begins.

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

*Practicing and mindful music-making come at different times. Embracing daydreaming and boredom doesn’t mean that one gives up on exercise, planning, meditation, or whatever else is important to your productivity and living the good life.

Installment #4 in The Gap Year Chronicles.

Photo from rambles in the Cotswold countryside by DJB

History was all around me: PreserveCast podcast of my career in preservation (so far)

Published by DJB

“Connection to place is very important to me, and I learned that by walking the streets of Franklin and Murfreesboro, where I grew up. History was all around me . . . and I’ve always wanted to do something about connecting the past to today.”

When PreserveCast host Nick Redding began our recent conversation on the award-winning Preservation Maryland podcast with a question about my path to preservation, my thoughts went to my childhood home, grandmother, and a favorite downtown theatre.

That podcast, looking at my work at the National Trust for Historic Preservation and more, can now be found on the PreserveCast website.

In a thirty minute interview, Nick and I explore not only how I became a preservationist, but also the various jobs that led to my serving as the Chief Preservation Officer at the National Trust from 2010 until I stepped down from the position at the end of March 2019.

“Somebody said that ‘Chief Preservation Officer’ is one of the great titles in the preservation field. Its not as good as ‘Keeper of the National Register,’ but I’ve always thought it is quite an honor at an institution like the Trust, which has such a legacy and also such promise, to be the Chief Preservation Officer. . . .to have responsibility for all our major program areas, is quite an honor and something I think about every day as I do my job.”

Some of the most interesting conversation took place around preservation losses and preservation success stories. When Nick asked what I saw as the biggest preservation loss in recent years, my mind went back to a 2014 battle over a National Historic Landmark.

“I always think the loss of a National Historic Landmark (NHL) is a very sad occasion. There are not that many of them. These are places of national significance and we should do everything we can to try and keep these places — saved, thriving, alive. We were involved in trying to save the Chautauqua Amphitheatre, which is near Buffalo, which was part of a NHL district. This was a place where FDR, William Jennings Bryan, Susan B. Anthony, Thurgood Marshall, Ella Fitzgerald, Van Clyburn . . . the list could go on . . . These people were on the stage there at the Amphitheatre. And yet the institution, in 2014, said we’re going to demolish the Amphitheatre, ‘We’re just going to build a new one. It will have better amenities but it will look just like the old one.’ Well, that’s just not the same. . . . When we lose something at that level of significance to the country, it cannot be replaced.”

Even with a replica, we’ve lost the physical connection which I spoke of at the top of the podcast. It was a totally unnecessary loss of a building that could have been easily saved, easily reused, easily renovated for the next century of use.

Nick followed that question with one about my biggest preservation victory, perhaps something I’d had a hand in during my tenure with the National Trust.

That’s like being asked to choose your favorite child.

So, I took the approach of highlighting three victories. First, while I had only a marginal role in the saving of Mies van der Rohe’s Farnsworth House, I see it as a special preservation victory on multiple fronts, not the least of which is that we kept it connected to its site, its place. Next, I turn to the Pauli Murray House, in Durham, North Carolina. I’m ashamed to admit that I did not know who Pauli Murray was when one of our staff members brought this project to me, but I now know that she was one of the most exceptional and influential women of the 20th century. I note that I like this place because it tells me, “extraordinary people can come from very ordinary places, and that’s part of us telling the story as well.” Finally, I end with the 2017 fight to save the Federal Historic Tax Credits. Organizations like the National Trust do some of their best work when they advocate for tools which local organizations, local citizens, local governments can use to save places in their communities.

At the end of the podcast, Nick has another of those “name your favorite child” questions, when he asked me to choose my favorite historic site or place.

You’ll have to listen to the PreserveCast podcast for the answer.

Many thanks to Nick Redding, Preservation Maryland, and the PreserveCast crew for the opportunity to reflect on what’s past…and what’s ahead.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Preserve Cast – Preservation Maryland’s podcast where historic preservation and technology meet

Don’t create followers, create more leaders

Published by DJB

Management guru Tom Peters has said, “Leaders don’t create followers, they create more leaders.”

In the middle of a week full of simple yet sublime pleasures, I also had the opportunity to experience unexpected leadership lessons with long-time colleagues and friends.

This story begins with The National Trust of England, Wales, and Northern Ireland, which has been a model for preservation and conservation organizations since its founding in 1895. While many National Trusts exist around the world, all are modeled in one way or the other on this original National Trust. I’ve worked with U.K. Trust staff members over the years and have come to count several as dear friends. The Trust’s work to connect people with places and the willingness to give back out of its century of experience to the international preservation and conservation communities have long been an inspiration.

I spent time last week interacting with the National Trust at several levels. The long-time connections were also how we found ourselves in Cambridge last Monday, visiting with Dame Fiona Reynolds, Master of Emmanuel College and the former Director-General (or CEO) of The National Trust. Fiona, an extraordinary leader, had invited us to join her at High Table, an opportunity I wasn’t going to miss.

The Front Court at Emmanuel College, Cambridge

Wren Chapel at Emmanuel — Emmanuel’s chapel, designed by Christopher Wren

Emmanuel College High Table — The Emmanuel College dining hall, set for High Table

It isn’t easy getting from the Cotswolds to Cambridge without a car, but a half-day ride on two trains brought us to Emmanuel on Monday afternoon, where we toured the college’s courts, gardens, and beautiful Christopher Wren chapel. As evening arrived, we all gathered for High Table, a tradition of colleges at Oxford, Cambridge, and beyond. And it was there that I saw leadership lesson #1 in action:

You have the power as a leader to make everyone feel welcome and secure, no matter how lofty your position or prestigious the event.

Through the years I’ve seen how Fiona nurtures relationships, speaking to everyone in ways to support and uplift others while never forgetting a name. Add in an easy-going, casual, and unaffected manner and even something as potentially intimidating as a formal dinner with professors in their academic gowns at one of the constituent colleges of Cambridge University becomes a delightful evening of good food, wonderful drink, and stimulating conversation with some very smart people. It was a night of pleasures to remember.

One of the people Fiona brought into my life is now another dear friend, Catherine Leonard. My interactions with Catherine later in the week led me to recognize leadership lesson #2:

Support and uplift people and chances are they will shine. That’s how leaders create other leaders.

I’ve worked closely with Catherine since she came on staff at the International National Trusts Organisation (INTO) more than a decade ago. She now leads the Secretariat at INTO as the organization’s Secretary-General. Under Fiona’s mentorship and support as the Chair of the board, Catherine has been encouraged to blossom into a strong leader in her own right, something I’ve been fortunate to observe first-hand. When learning that we were traveling to the U.K., Catherine immediately invited us to Northington in Hampshire to spend time at her family home with her husband Ben and children Monty and Connie.

Catherine Leonard Family (c) Leela Bennett — Catherine, Connie, Ben, and Monty – our wonderful hosts in Hampshire (Copyright Leela Bennett)

Gas Cottage drawing — Architectural drawing from the 1860s for the “Gas Cottage” on Lord Ashburton’s estate in Northington

Catherine and Ben live in a historic cottage that has been in Catherine’s family for 50 years. We loved hearing the story of how both Catherine and Connie were born in the house. (Yes, the English are so much more civilized risk takers!) Originally built in the 1860s as a cottage for the man who ran the gas plant for Lord Ashburton’s Grange estate, it was bought — and later expanded in a manner sympathetic to its historic design — by Catherine’s parents. This delightful cottage sitting in the middle of a bucolic English countryside became our Hampshire home for the middle part of the week.

Over three days we mixed business and pleasure: a first-rate performance (with dinner at intermission) of The Marriage of Figaro in their backyard at The Grange Festival; sharing experiences and aspirations with approximately 100 members of the National Trust staff at Heelis, their headquarters in Swindon; travels to the National Trust World Heritage Site Avebury; dinner at the local Hampshire pub The Woolpack Inn; prepping for a meeting with senior staff at Historic England concerning work on Main Streets — known in the U.K. as High Streets; providing Connie with fun facts about Wisconsin and Maine to flesh out a school project on the two states. Through it all, Catherine’s strengths as a leader shown through.

Stone entranceway into the Avebury World Heritage Site

Circle of stones at Avebury — View of the circle of stones (and village later built in the middle of the circle) at Avebury

One of my many conversations with Catherine around our mutual work and interests centered on the values she crafted for herself over the past couple of years. At the recent International Conference of National Trusts in Bermuda, I heard Catherine use the phrase, “Not just consuming, but contributing.” This week I asked her about it. She told me it came from her crafting of values and was a way forward she was seeking to internalize in work and life. And there was leadership lesson #3:

Leaders don’t just consume, they contribute.

The value resonated for me, as I appreciate experiences to simply buying and consuming more and more things. But Catherine’s take adds the importance of contributing. We all take up space on this earth, and she was reminding me that what we do with our time and talent will be weighed against what we take away as consumers of limited resources.

Over the past decade, Catherine has been busy contributing to the work of creating, building, and strengthening National Trusts — and a new set of heritage conservation leaders — all around the world. Catherine’s contributions were, of course, allowed to flourish more abundantly because of nourishment and support received from mentors and colleagues such as Fiona. Throughout the week, both friends showed me time and again how their work, as leaders, creates more leaders.

Friends nurture our soul in different ways. Sometimes we can help them grow by showing our support and providing the space they need to flourish as leaders. And we also have special people we know and cherish who teach us by the way that they live their values, if we are open to seeing and learning.

Have a great week.

More to come…

DJB

Update: Catherine Leonard provided her perspective on our visit in her June 9, 2019 blog on the INTO website.

Image: “Gas Cottage” on Lord Ashburton’s estate in Northington, where three generations of the Leonard family have called home. Photo by DJB.

Remembering D-Day

Published by DJB

Seventy-five years ago today, almost 160,000 troops from the United Kingdom, Canada, and the United States — including smaller contingents from Australia, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, France, Greece, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway and Poland — invaded Nazi-occupied Europe on the beaches of Normandy. Over the next three months of fighting, 209,000 Allied troops would die before the Nazis were pushed back across the Seine.

June 6, 1944 — D-Day — should never be forgotten. It was a time when the countries of the world came together to combat bigotry, racism, and hatred. Many men and women made the ultimate sacrifice in that fight.

To be in Britain for the 75th anniversary is a reminder of our better natures. We began to see the remembrances of the anniversary as we stepped off the bus in the small Cotswald village of Chipping Campden last week. There, in the center of this beautiful High Street, was a small World War I memorial covered with poppies, the now almost-universal symbol of remembrance for those killed in war.

This week, we are staying with friends in Hampshire where American troops camped in preparation for the invasion. We enjoyed an evening of dining and opera at The Grange, a historic estate where on March 24, 1944, Prime Minister Winston Churchill and General Dwight Eisenhower met in the Picture Gallery (our venue for dinner) to discuss the invasion of Europe. Places here stand as living memorials to that fateful day.

Chipping Campden WWI memorial — The World War I Memorial, covered with poppies for the D-Day Anniversary, in Chipping Campden

The English lost an entire generation of young men in World War I. English cities were bombed night-after-night in 1940 and 1941 during the German campaign known as The Blitz in World War II. Their memories of the price of war and the price of the fight against hatred and bigotry remains closer to the surface than in the U.S., where our World War I memorials are sometimes forgotten or threatened with demolition and where so-called leaders wish the troops a “Happy Memorial Day” without understanding the gravity of the sacrifice we are honoring.

Michele Heller, whose father served at D-Day, has an op-ed in today’s Washington Post to help Americans remember what our parents generation was fighting against and how that contrasts with our current amnesia over the importance of leadership. She ends her remembrance of her father — a Jew who escaped Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia and eventually found safety in the United States, only to enlist two years later in the U.S. Army “to fight, as many immigrants still do, for their adopted country” — with the following:

“They all were war heroes — the captured, the killed, the wounded, the mentally maimed, the lucky survivors such as my dad — because of circumstance, not desire. They went to war because of what happened when xenophobia and demagoguery supplanted real leadership.”

Even with all their current troubles, the English clearly remember the sacrifice, and they keep that remembrance front and center. The U.K.’s primary day of remembrance for their war dead remains November 11th, when the armistice ending World War I was signed and went into effect on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. This year, however, the countryside was filled with special honors and memorials in June, just in time for the 75th anniversary of one of the bloodiest days in history.

Remembrance for D-Day — Remembrances for D-Day in Chipping Campden

Memorials are about memory, which is an essential part of consciousness. Individual and collective memories, connecting over a continuum of time to create community and national identity, are at the heart of why we save old places — why old places matter.

Diane Barthel, writing in Historic Preservation: Collective Memory and Historical Identity, speaks about places where moments in personal history “become part of the flow of collective history. This collective history transcends individual experiences and lifetimes” and are very much tied to place.

The beaches and fields of Normandy certainly stand as reminders of what those who came before sacrificed for future generations. A simple memorial in the middle of a historic, thriving Cotswold High Street helps bring our individual and collective memories together. It helps us understand the price required to push back against bigotry, racism, and hatred.

With thanks for the sacrifice made by the men and women on D-Day. May we never forget, and may we be forever vigilant in fighting leaders who spawn hatred rather than condemn it.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Britain remembers its fallen troops on the 75th anniversary of D-Day: one of many flags along the streets in the Cotswold town of Moreton-in-Marsh

Our Country is Like a Really Old House

Published by DJB

With instant communication and connections, one can travel the globe and still face issues from home. We may try to block them out, but they come up in conversations in other countries. In feeds on social media. During sermons.* Even in a toy display in a store window!

Dog Hate Toys — Toys for pets in a Great Malvern (U.K.) store window

I’ve been reminded again during my travels that in today’s global world, there are many national issues with international ramifications.

Thomas Fingar — the Shorenstein APARC Fellow in the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies at Stanford University, former chairman of the National Intelligence Council, and former Assistant Secretary of State — lectured on the Japan / Korea / China / United States relationships during the Asian portion of my current trip. Fingar provided a realistic and sometimes sobering assessment of future difficulties (many self-inflicted) as we were visiting sites of great beauty and centuries-old history.

A few days later I arrived in the U.K. as Prime Minister Theresa May was resigning and the airways were filled with commentary (some from the current resident of the White House) about the future. In these conversations around the globe, I was reminded of the lack of historical understanding brought to many of our current political debates.

It was my own desire to consider the context of three issues very much on the front page as I left the country in early May — voter suppression, mass incarceration of people of color, and the reemergence of white supremacy as a political force — that led me to pack a copy of C. Vann Woodward’s The Strange Career of Jim Crow for this trip. Woodward’s 1955 classic has been cited by none other than The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. as “the historical Bible of the Civil Rights movement,” yet it had been decades since I’d read this seminal work. While Woodward himself had a somewhat perplexing journey in relation to that movement, his Strange Career of Jim Crow has stood the test of time as a landmark history that also made history. His major thesis — that segregation and overt bigotry were relatively recent developments of the 1890s and were not inevitable — had a tremendous impact on our understanding of the South since Reconstruction and the opportunities available to the country in the 1950s and 1960s. While subsequent editions had a sadder tone, the book nonetheless made a quiet yet insistent case that change was possible, even in the South of the mid-twentieth century.

In the preface to the first edition of the book, Woodward writes that “The twilight zone that lies between living memory and written history is one of the favorite breeding places of mythology.” We can see that myth-making today around questions such as immigration. But many times opinions are simply based — in Woodward’s assessment — on “shaky historical foundations or downright misinformation.”

The historian shows us that white supremacists on the rise today are using many of the same arguments and tactics as the Bourbon interests of the late-nineteenth century, which sought to keep Southerners divided and labor cheap. Tom Watson, the Georgia populist who later turned virulent racist, spoke to blacks and whites early in his career, saying: “You are made to hate each other because upon that hatred is rested the keystone of the arch of financial despotism which enslaves you both. You are deceived and blinded that you may not see how this race antagonism perpetuates a monetary system which beggars you both.” Also in line with today’s political climate, Woodward notes that in the 1890s, “The South’s adoption of extreme racism was due not so much to a conversion as it was to a relaxation of the opposition.” Again, history appears to repeat itself.

These various thoughts came together in my mind as I listened to a podcast from On Being with Isabel Wilkerson, the author of the exceptional The Warmth of Other Suns. Host Krista Tippet notes that Wilkerson’s book, published in 2010, is “a carrier of histories, stories, truths that help make sense of human and social challenges newly visible at the heart of our life together.” It is interesting that Wilkerson has also become “an unexpected voice on the enduring human drama of refugees and immigration,” having been “herself a product of one of the most under-reported stories of the 20th century which she chronicles — the exodus or Great Migration of 6 million African Americans from the south to the north of the United States.”

Wilkerson — like many thoughtful commentators today — notes that racism and bigotry continue to divide the country because we have not done the hard work to face and understand our past. I especially like the metaphor she employs:

“Well, it’s kind of reminded me that our country is like a really old house. I love old houses. I’ve always lived in old houses. But old houses need a lot of work. And the work is never done. And just when you think you’ve finished one renovation, it’s time to do something else. Something else has gone wrong.

And that’s what our country is like. And you may not want to go into that basement, but if you really don’t go into that basement, it’s at your own peril. And I think that whatever you are ignoring is not going to go away. Whatever you’re ignoring is only going to get worse. Whatever you’re ignoring will be there to be reckoned with until you reckon with it. And I think that that’s what we’re called upon to do where we are right now.”

We have not reckoned with the truths about our relationships in Asia and with the full impact of nuclear warfare. The United States seems committed to repeating horrible incidents from our racist past, rather than grapple with the core challenges in how our economic and government systems support racism. Moral leaders like The Rev. Dr. William J. Barber II point to those challenges as they write about the hypocrisy found in politicians who pass draconian anti-abortion bills in states like Alabama, “using the power they have gained by suppressing minority votes to signal that they are pro-life despite their opposition to living wages, health care, commonsense gun laws, and environmental protections. They are suppressing the vote because they know there is a new demographic in Alabama that if organized in fusion coalition can change the political electorate.” It is the same coalition that the Bourbons fought in the 1890s. Historians, like Woodward, have helped show that repeating the past is not inevitable. Change is possible.

As we begin another week where national and international unrest appears probable, perhaps it is time for us to call on our political leaders to follow Wilkerson, Barber, King, Woodward and many others into the country’s basement where we can all face our fears.

More to come…

DJB

*Seriously, the Archdeacon who spoke at St. David’s Church in Moreton-in-Marsh yesterday noted the state visit of the U.S. President. In typical understated, yet wicked, English style, his comment was, “The Queen is so excited.”

Image by Deedee86 from Pixabay

Japan by sea

Published by DJB

Donald Trump, you may have read, recently visited Japan. I also just wrapped up a tour of the Land of the Rising Sun. At the risk of being the target of a derisive tweet or internet trolls, it is fair to say that I had the better trip.

The two-week National Trust Tours exploration of Japan, with a focus on its coastal cities and sites, certainly broadened my mind. Not only were the people and places welcoming, but the sharing of perspectives from our guides, study tour lecturers, and fellow travelers enriched an already heady experience.

The World Heritage sites, such as Todai-ji Temple in Nara, the capital of Japan from 710-784 CE, were powerful and moving, especially as one found places away from the crowds to privately indulge in the architecture, gardens, and spiritual meaning of the spaces. More modern sites, such as Hiroshima, the Adachi Museum of Art and Gardens, and I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum, were also important touchstones for understanding parts of life in today’s Japan.

Kabuki Theatre detailing — Exterior detailing on the Uchiko-Za Kabuki Theatre

It was at the more out-of-the-way places, however, where I found the time and space to connect more deeply with the culture of our host nation. On Shikoku Island we traveled to the small traditional village of Uchiko to visit an exquisite, full-scale kabuki theatre, one of my favorite buildings from the entire tour. Similarly, Toko-ji in Hagi, a medieval center of Japan, was a large site where you could lose yourself among the hundreds of moss-covered stone lanterns guarding the graves of five Mori lords. The effect was sublime.

Toko-ji temple interior — Interior of the Toko-ji Temple

Toko-ji Lantern details — One of the many small coves in Toko-ji, where one could pause and reflect without the crowds

Another day took us to remote Sado Island, where we visited a center for traditional Japanese drumming and the weathered yet resilient Shukunegi fishing village. More than 100 traditional Edo-period houses line narrow streets, where the villagers live, work, worship, and play. It felt very much like a different culture from the hustle and bustle of the cities, yet the building forms—set cheek-by-jowl and using every bit of available space between sea and mountains—showed how the Japanese have had to value their land for centuries.

Typical lane through Shukunegi — Narrow lanes separate traditional houses in Shukunegi, a fishing village on Sado Island

A Shukunegi house, curved to fit the available land

Shukunegi street scene — Water, pathways, and homes all co-exist on a very small piece of Sado Island in Shukunegi

The spiritual is never far away in Japan, be it Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine. We were fortunate to see traditional and current practices in a variety of settings throughout the tour.

Daisho-in Temple, Miyajima — A Buddhist monk prays amidst the beautiful Daisho-in Temple in Miyajima

Itsukushima shrine — The famous gateway to the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine in Miyajima

Prayers at the Itsukushima shrine — Offering prayers at the Itsukushima shrine

Itsukushima View — View from the edge of the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine, with the vermillion torri that appears to float on the water at high tide, in the background

Buddhist statues at Toko-ji — Buddhist statues, decorated to offer prayers of protection for children and travelers, at Toko-ji in Hagi

One day we ventured to Gyeong Ju, South Korea, a World Heritage City. The royal tombs at Tumuli Park rivaled burial sites anywhere in the world. Dozens of mounds sit within beautiful gardens, and the few that have been excavated are wonderfully interpreted, both on site and at the Gyeong Ju National Museum.

Royal burial mounds in South Korea — Royal burial mounds in Tumuli Park, Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Royal burial site — Interpretation of a burial site in the royal burial grounds in Tumuli Park

Royal funeral jewels — Display of royal funeral jewels at the Gyeong Ju National Museum

We followed that morning visit with a tour of Bulguksa, one of the most beautiful Buddhist temples in Korea. We arrived during a festival season, so the lanterns and flowers added to the beauty of the landscape and buildings.

Bulguksa temple — Bulguksa Temple in Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Lanterns at Bulguksa Temple — Lanterns holding prayers from the faithful, hanging from the ceiling of a walkway at the Buddhist Bulguksa Temple near Gyeong Ju, South Korea

Bulguksa temple entrance — Entrance to one of the main temples at Bulguksa

Japan is a photographer’s delight, and I found so many wonderful details that caught the eye of the camera lens.

Hiroshima children's art — Children’s art created from origami doves at Hiroshima

Bulguksa Temple detail — Detail from the Bulguksa Temple in South Korea

Golden Pavilion garden — A peaceful section of garden at the Golden Pavilion

View of the Itsukushima Shinto Shrine Gate

Cover in fishing village — Cover for utility service in the historic Shukunegi Fishing Village on Sado Island

Tea ceremony sweet — Sweet for the tea ceremony in Kanazawa

Todai-ji detail — Detail from the Todai-ji Temple in Nara

Snow covered mountains near Otaru — Snow covered mountains in northern Japan, as we near the port of Otaru

Finally, one of the more delightful aspects of the trip was the myriad welcome and good-bye ceremonies from local residents at the smaller villages and cities. Each differed and was unique to the particular region. We were drummed away from Sado Island while we were enchanted with traditional dance in Korea. One of the most charming welcomes came when we drew alongside the dock in tiny Hagi and were met by a group of some 20 high school students who wanted to talk with us as a way to work on their English. Their curiosity—and their request to write our names in Japanese characters—made for a warm welcome. My “David” was relatively simple, but it became one of the most cherished take-aways from the entire trip.

My name in Japanese characters — “David” in Japanese characters

Travel expands the mind for those who choose to be present for the teachings. Beautiful thoughts of this ancient yet modern nation will certainly be rolling around in my head long after the specific memories begin to fade.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Buddhist statues, decorated to protect children and travelers, at Daisho-in Temple, Miyajima, Japan; photo by DJB

Life-long learners

Published by DJB

Some of the most interesting travelers are life-long learners.

While taking in the wonders of place, people, and culture on recent trips to Japan, South Korea, and the United Kingdom, I’ve spent time observing my fellow travelers. The reasons for travel vary widely. Some individuals finally have the time and resources to venture to new horizons while others are serious compilers—and completers—of bucket lists. The reasons are almost as endless as the people joining me in visiting the temples, shrines, gardens, mountains, priories, theatres, museums, and much more along the way.

Life-long learners take a special approach to travel, just as they do in life. They are curious, to be certain, but most are also risk takers. In The Leadership Machine, authors Michael Lombardo and Robert Eichinger suggest that learners are “willing to feel and look stupid” because they can admit what they don’t know and are eager to move forward to learn. In the working world they are often the ones willing to “go against the grain of what they know how to do and prefer to do” in order to get better and to learn new skills.

I prefer the description of life-long learners as “sense-makers.”

Among my fellow travelers, the life-long learners are easy to identify. They don’t speak up just to look smart. However, the objective and dispassionate questions they do raise are almost always the best ones on the topic. The life-long learners don’t dominate conversations, but instead seek first to understand before making pronouncements.

We all learn in different ways, yet experiences seem to be a key part of the career path of successful leaders. From my observations there are multiple ways in which experience teaches. Life-long learners revel in fresh challenges. They connect with people. Hardships don’t faze them, but instead seem to energize them. They enjoy life.

On this trip, we’re also honoring the learning journeys of our children. On a quick stop-over in the United States between the Asia and United Kingdom segments, we celebrated our daughter Claire’s graduation with a Masters in Social Work (MSW) from the University of California, Berkeley. By taking risks, going where she may not be comfortable, and empathizing with people on all levels, Claire has shown me how to work to make sense of life’s quirks, challenges, and opportunities.

CLaire graduation — Our wonderful Claire, now with her MSW degree from the University of California, Berkeley

Upon our arrival in London, we have had the opportunity to visit with our son Andrew—Claire’s twin—who is a masters student in vocal performance at the Royal College of Music. This is my first visit to London since Andrew moved here for his studies, so I wanted to tour the RCM buildings and get a picture of where he practices, researches, and performs on a regular basis.

Don Alfonso, Guglielmo and Ferrando (l-to-r) – in a 1950s setting of Cosi Fan Tutte – plot to test the faithfulness of their fiancés.

On Saturday we traveled to the wonderful English town of Great Malvern and the Elmslie House, where the Felici Opera Company—with Andrew in the role of Ferrando—performed a delightful English version set in the 1950s of Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte. We joined in the laughter at the antics of the two young men who agree to a clever ruse to test the faithfulness of their fiancés, while we were simultaneously thrilled at the exquisite melodies of Mozart. Like Claire, Andrew has shown me how to take risks and follow life’s passions.

Rooftops of Great Malvern — The rooftops of Great Malvern

Great Malvern view — Looking down at Great Malvern from the lower reaches of the Malvern Hills

The fact that the production was in Great Malvern was a special treat. Home or frequent haunt of some of England’s most accomplished composers, writers, and artists (Sir Edward Elgar, George Bernard Shaw, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien), the town, landscape, and Malvern Hills clearly inspired life-long learning and creativity in many who ventured here.

Asking questions with an openness to new ideas. Making sense of what we see by dispassionate and deep study. Inserting “punctuation marks” into our lives to ask “What have we learned this week about…?” All ensure that life simply doesn’t go by as we perform tasks, succeed or make mistakes . . . and learn nothing. As Lombardo and Eichinger put it:

“Everyone wants to know the secret of success, and there is one. It’s called continuously learning to do what you don’t know how to do.”

Have a good week.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Lanterns holding prayers from the faithful, hanging from the ceiling of a walkway at the Buddhist Bulguksa Temple near Gyeong Ju, South Korea

I.M. Pei, Rest in Peace

Published by DJB

Eight days before the revered architect I.M. Pei passed away at 102 years of age, I had the opportunity to visit one of his last—and more remote—commissions: the Miho Museum in Japan.

Standing amidst the Shiga mountains in a protected nature preserve, Pei’s Miho Museum, which opened in 1997, fits in well with the other modern yet very accessible works of this master who left an indelible mark on the world before his passing on May 16th of this year.

Pulitzer Prize-winning architectural historian and author Paul Goldberger wrote a lovely obituary for Pei in the New York Times, capturing the architect’s expansive work and spirit. When thinking of Pei, my mind naturally turns to the beautiful East Building of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., a museum I’ve visited many times. One feature that always brings a smile to my face wasn’t exactly designed by Pei. Etched into the stone is a listing of all those who made the East Building possible—politicians, National Gallery leadership, architects, and more. At one point the beautiful Tennessee marble has turned a different color, the result of millions of visitors rubbing the name of I.M. Pei with their hands, wanting to connect physically and spiritually with the design that showed how a modernist could fit a masterpiece into the core of Washington’s monumental architecture.

While not as famous as the East Building, the glass pyramid at the Louvre, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, or other major works designed by Pei, the Miho Museum nonetheless struck me as impressive architecture that beautifully fit its site and unique program.*

Tunnel to Miho Museum — Mountain tunnel that leads visitors to the Miho Museum

After a slow ride up curvy mountain roads, one arrives at the Miho and its welcome center. From that point visitors approach the museum itself via a pedestrian tunnel cut through the mountain, giving a hint of the 75% of the museum spaces that Pei placed underground to maintain the look of the nature preserve.

Entrance to bridge — Emerging from the pedestrian tunnel to cross a beautiful bridge, with its first glimpse of the museum building

From the darkness of the tunnel the light draws you toward a cantilevered bridge and a first look at the museum building. I was there on a perfect spring day. The shift from darkness to light and beauty was as striking as it was intentional.

Entrance to Miho Museum — Entrance to the Miho Museum

Once inside the museum, Pei’s use of steel and glass for the ceilings and some exterior walls, balanced with warm French limestone for the interior spaces, takes over the experience. The extensive glass allows a sense of nature to move into the building, and also provides vistas which include an earlier bell tower Pei designed for the museum’s founder.

Interior view of the entrance hall — Interior view of the Miho Entrance Hall

Ceiling of Miho Museum — Interior view of the ceiling of I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum

View of the bell tower — View of the distant bell tower from the museum’s central hall

After almost two hours at this wonderful space, it was time to go. The trip back from the light into the tunnel meant you were leaving what Pei, upon first seeing the site, described as Shangri-La.

View of the bridge and tunnel — Looking back across the cantilevered bridge

I would have felt privileged to see this beautiful work of art at any point, but to have had the opportunity to be in Japan and to see the Miho Museum first-hand in the month of the master architect’s passing, was especially moving.

Rest in peace, I.M. Pei. Your work has graced the world we live in.

More to come…

DJB

*I’m not going to use this post to go into the somewhat mysterious—and perhaps questionable—practices in acquisition of the collection by the controversial founder of the museum, Mihoko Koyama, who is also the founder of Shumeikai, a new religious group that claims some 300,000 followers.

Image: Entrance to I.M. Pei’s Miho Museum by DJB

MORE TO COME…

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