The Need for Christian Leaders

With considerable interest I read the article entitled “Crafting Quality” in the Interpreter, September/October, 2009 issue. The article, subtitled “Meeting the Need for New Leaders in the Church and the World,” focuses on the decline in membership in the United Methodist Church since 1964 and the decline in numbers of people entering the ministry which will have a negative impact on the number of persons available to assume positions of leadership in the church in the near and distant future.

Research by the Rev. Lovett H. Weems Jr. shows that in 2008 the median age of active clergy in the denomination was in the mid-50s, and the greatest growth was occurring in the 55-70 age group. At the same time, ordained elders under age 35 had reached just 5 percent of active elders for the first time this century. “Crafting Quality”, Interpreter, September/October 2009, page 13.

While I was born and raised in the Church of Christ, my roots in Methodism run deep, at least back into the 1830s when my great-great-grandfather and his wife were born into Methodist families in East Tennessee and were converted to Christianity through the Methodist Church which was strong in that part of the country, contributing greatly to what has sometimes been called the Second Awakening. This was through my father’s mother. Through his father, my Methodist roots also run deep. His father was born in Indiana in 1861, the son of a Union Soldier, and he too was a devout Methodist. Family tradition calls him a “Shouting Methodist” although that term was never used, as far as I can ascertain, when speaking of my family Methodists from Tennessee. All these people remained Methodists all their lives except my father and his mother. She eventually became a member of the Assembly of God, not all that far removed at the time from the Methodists, and my father, who was baptized in the Methodist Church as an infant, became a member of the Church of Christ about 12 years after marrying my mother. She was born and raised in the Church of Christ.

I, too, was born and raised in the Church of Christ. My education was from one of her schools and I served in the ministry for about 15 years before going to law school and entering the practice of law, a career lasting about 30 years. For my own personal reasons, about 25 years ago I became a member of the United Methodist Church, joining the McFarlin Memorial UMC in Norman, Oklahoma. I have sometimes jokingly said the reason I became a Methodist was that we at least use the word “tolerant” in our Discipline. I say that jokingly but there is a certain level of truth in the statement.

I, like most other Methodists, am alarmed at the decline in our numbers. I am also concerned about the decline in numbers for most of the mainstream Protestant denominations. Where are the people going? Surveys, as well as anecdotal observations, have shown there is an increased belief in God, there is an increased church membership overall and there is increased Bible study among those who profess to be Christians. Independent Churches are increasing as well as their membership. In the 19th century, the Methodist Church was the fastest and largest growing denomination in the United States. The question is what happened? This is a question I cannot answer completely although I do have certain opinions on the issue. I am not qualified to explain all the possible reasons for this decrepitude but I do have a few comments as they relate to the above noted article which laments the reduction in persons who can provide leadership for the church in the future. My conclusions are my own and are based on my own personal experience as a member of the United Methodist Church.

The clergy/laity dichotomy of the United Methodist Church is a principal cause for its own malaise. The hierarchal structure of the church is principally designed to perpetuate the clergy’s own existence and discourages those not recognized as part of the clergy from being too involved in the work of the church.

I have always considered myself a Protestant, perhaps even a Protestant among Protestants. In a Bible class a few of years ago, I listened to a United Methodist minister speak of various matters regarding Methodism. The point was made pertaining to communion that John Wesley was of the opinion that communion should be observed any time Christians assembled together. This was his practice. Then, why, we asked, is communion celebrated in the modern United Methodist Church infrequently. Of course there are some efforts to make communion available to all on a more regular basis. But, generally, communion is celebrated on a monthly or quarterly basis, if at all. The answer was that during pioneer times in America there were not enough Methodist ministers, i.e., ordained clergy, to bless the sacraments each time the members assembled so that communion and its celebration was done less frequently, resulting in today’s practices.

That is an alarming statement to the ears of a Protestant. I met with her later and questioned her on what she said and she confirmed I had not misunderstood her. The idea that there is something the clergy can do but the ordinary Christian cannot do attacks the very heart of the Protestant Reformation. Most Methodists think of themselves as Protestants, but the primary principal of the Protestant Reformation is the concept of the “Priesthood of Believers.” I have always found this to be a powerful principal and have embraced it with fervor. I reject wholeheartedly the very notion there is a distinction in the Bible between clergy and laity. There are of course teachers, just as there are people of varying other gifts and abilities. But no one was to be considered preferable to or above the other; a teacher was not to be considered a higher grade or quality of Christian than the person who visited the sick. The person of one gift or talent was not to be considered to be a better Christian than someone else.

In the Methodist Church today there is little doubt that one finds degrees or classes of Christians. The clergy maintains a status superior to the laity. The clergy knows it and acts like it and the laity knows it and normally defers to the clergy. It is hard to find any support whatsoever for this type of church organization or even this type thinking during the ministry of the Apostle Paul. Toward the end of the first century there is some evidence in the Bible that this attitude was developing in the churches, but if it was it was condemned. The First Epistle of Clement of Rome, written to the church in Corinth, was written in support of the authority of the clergy. So by the early part of the second century A.D., this type organization was beginning to occur within the churches but not earlier. When Eusebius wrote his History of the Christian Church in 325 A.D. this type church government and organization was much more developed. However, it would still be some time before the complete organization of the Christian Church would reflect what now is seen as the classical organization of the Roman Catholic Church. The Methodist organization is quite similar to that of the Roman Catholic Church. It is “Mini-Me” when compared to its forbear. And the clergy/laity dichotomy, with the laity being an inferior type Christian, is clearly found within the Methodist Church as much as in the Roman Catholic Church.

By its very nature the organization of the Methodist Church discourages the laity from doing certain things within the family of faith; in fact it actually prohibits certain things. This intimidating oppression by the clergy clearly demoralizes the laity and a weakened laity results in a less than lively, healthy and growing church. It should also be noted that with the advent of the clergy with its presumptuous grab for power, the laity has deferred not only to the authority of the clergy but has given the responsibility of doing Christian works over to the clergy as well. The clergy/laity dichotomy has resulted in the clergy’s assumption of power and the laity’s failure to be an active participant in Christian endeavor, resulting in the diminishing of Christian character in the laity.

The clergy may respond and argue that it provides ample opportunity for the laity to volunteer for service. To this I would reply in three ways: first, when you give me something you can as easily take it away. I am still a subservient species of Christian which is or should be unacceptable to anyone striving to live a life following the example of Christ.

Second, for someone like me to be “given an opportunity to serve” is an offensive thought. As a true Protestant who believes the priesthood of the believer precludes any man or men (or women) from standing between self and God, I take comfort in taking my marching orders from Jesus himself. I take great comfort when he says that if you wish to follow Him, “take my yoke upon you and learn of me. My yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I don’t need or want an intercessor for this. I feel a sense of personal responsibility when He says, “Go you therefore and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you and, lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world.” I neither need nor want an intercessor to stand between me and God for this. And when I am told there is “one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus,” I am looking for no other intercessor.

And, third, I am living proof that a clergy limits one’s opportunity to serve within the confines of the church. I was born and raised in the Christian faith. I was brought up to attend church when the doors are opened and to do whatever is asked of you. I have always believed I should look for opportunities to serve and have done so these 65 years of my life (this was written in 2009). I chose to be a Methodist, for various reasons which are irrelevant here, and have been for the past 25 years of my life. I have done whatever has been asked of me, which has been very little, and have looked for opportunities to serve without being asked. I know my talents and am convinced they are God-given and, as such, I must use them to His glory. What few talents I have are known to the clergy in my United Methodist Church. And, yet, I have the distinct feeling that they don’t even know me. Nor do they want to. They have no place for me in the church and would just as soon I quit coming. That may be a little unfair, but I do feel if I quit coming they would not miss me all that much. I tell people that I am totally insignificant in the scheme of things in my church and I do not say this in jest, I absolutely mean it.

So, one may ask, why do I continue to attend? There are two reasons. First, I have two small children, presently aged 12 and 13, who are involved in the youth program. It is an excellent youth program and at my age I need all the help with them I can get. I need the help of the church to raise them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Second, I am involved in a Sunday School class which provides much of what I need for my spiritual life. Teaching forces me to study; it challenges my mind and feeds my soul.

The United Methodist Church has been decreasing in number and perhaps in spirit since 1964. I personally think the elevation of the clergy and the diminishment of the laity is a contributing factor. And until a balance is struck in that regard this trend will continue into the future.

Oliver and the Spring Break Mission—2012

Today is Saturday, yesterday was the last day of school, the beginning of spring break. We didn’t have spring breaks when I was a kid, a day or two off for Easter was about it. Then our society changed from one in which we catered to adults and adulthood to a celebration, an almost worshipful reverence, of childhood. “What can we do for the children?” became our clarion call. And do for them we did. We wear ourselves out doing for them. Are we really doing them any favors? Probably not. They are as worn out as we are. But, now and then we see a turn to a new direction. Yes, we tell them, we will do for you, we will wear ourselves out doing for you, but we want you to do for someone else along the way.

Our church, McFarlin Memorial United Methodist Church in Norman, Oklahoma, like many others, has promoted missions. There was a time when we sent one or two people to various locales, sent them money, told them to be resourceful and try to do good wherever they were. We wanted them to do good for the local community they were serving, help lift them from poverty, feed them when they could, help them with their shelter and clothing. In the meantime, we wanted them to preach the gospel, the good news of Jesus. We still do mission work, but it has changed from that earlier format. Today, we send our people in larger numbers to work shorter periods of time in which they improve the physical lives of the people they are serving and share the gospel with them as well. We have sent mission groups all over the world and I do not see any reduction of this in the future. We have built houses, churches, hospitals, schools, sidewalks and parks. We have played with their kids, worked at hard labor for hours at a time, ate with the local people, shared their joys and concerns, laughed with them and wept with them. We have taught their kids in Vacation Bible Schools and shared the joy of Christ with them.

It would have been more economically efficient had we just sent the same amount of money we spent on these missions to the local field and hired local workers to do the same work. It would have provided an influx of capital into the local area which would have made a difference for a long time. But, we would not have had the same opportunities to interact with the local populace, both the children and their families. We would not have had the teaching opportunities. And, we would not have had the learning experience of service to others.

Our youth at church have been going to Mexico during spring break for several years. This is their 19th annual mission trip. A couple years ago, due to the unrest and lawlessness in Mexico, we quit crossing the border and limited our work to South Texas, around McAllen, Texas, one of the poorest regions in the United States. In Mexico, we built a school and many houses. The houses were simple structures, one room concrete block structures with tin roofs. While the houses were minimal and substandard by our standards, they were significantly better than the cardboard boxes families were often living in. Our children built these with their own hands. They did work they had no idea they could do. They experienced community plumbing and learned first-hand what it was to have to rely on outdoor privies. They shared the story of Jesus with the families and their children. They shared their supplies with the families and often the families shared their meager meals with the children. The children came home humbled, thankful for their blessings as they tearfully told of their experiences in working with less advantaged people.

This is the second year we have gone to South Texas. Our children have been subjected to Americans who do not have the benefits we have, but who clearly taught our children about gratitude and sharing. In South Texas we are repairing walls and painting, repairing plumbing and doing all those things necessary to make living a little easier for forgotten souls.

My son, Oliver, is in the 10th grade in school; this is his fourth year to go on this spring break mission. Two years in Mexico, doing work I had no idea he was able to do, and now two years in South Texas, again doing things I had no idea he was capable of. What a blessing he is to my old age.

Oliver has always been full of energy with a personality that challenged those who want the world to just go along. He was sent to the principal’s office 11 times during his kindergarten year and I am sure he would have been expelled from school for some of the things for which other kids merely got a slight reprimand. The last time he was sent to the office, I was called in to confer with the teacher and the principal. They couldn’t even remember what it was he had done that resulted in this office visit! He is a kid who wears his hair in a dyed Mohawk. He has pierced ears in a school where that just isn’t done. He thinks of himself as a political liberal in a community that celebrates their so-called conservativeness. He couldn’t care less about how he looks. He’s as smart as any kid I’ve ever known, but he doesn’t care about his grades. A common criticism from teachers is that he doesn’t do his work in class, he makes good grades on his tests, but his daily work (or lack thereof) brings his grades dangerously low. They readily admit he’s learning the subject, but he just isn’t doing the daily work. And, I wonder to myself, if he’s learning, the problem may be with the evaluation process.

My bottom line is that he’s a great kid. No one has ever said anything other than that he is a courteous and respectful young man (except his kindergarten teacher). He’s a great kid, but too many people have never given him a chance.

Our youth minister has always recognized the potential in him. He cultivated the talents he observed, and provided opportunities for him to both use the talents he has and develop more. He has worked hard with those people who have less than he has and he has always reported on his missions with a tender heart. This year, he has been made a team leader.

A week ago, he and another team leader came into our Sunday School class to speak about their upcoming mission. The difference in the two kids is the difference in expectation and hope, I expected Abe to do well while I hoped Oliver would do well. And, he did do well, far exceeding my expectations. In a large class that day of 65 older people, Oliver took the floor without notes and spoke from the heart. He never stammered and he never repeated himself. He spoke from the heart about his excitement about going again into this area to do this mission work. He hoped he would be reunited with the family he worked so hard for last year. He knew he was going to be doing basic carpentry work, dry wall and painting, to make the living quarters better for these people. I knew from past missions, and from knowing him, that if there were children in the home where he is working, and there will be, he will be spending part of his time making the lives of those children a little brighter. He is a team leader, it will be his responsibility to lead the team in getting their work done.

God bless him and his team. God bless McFarlin and the people they will be serving.

A Rusty Nail and Coal Oil

It was some time in the early 1950s, I was less than 10 years old, that I was playing at my grand-parents’ home. We were there visiting my mother’s parents, perhaps on a Sunday afternoon after church. I was running around just to the east of the house on a path that led to the chicken house and the garden, right at the point where it veered off to lead to the privy back behind the house.

There was a board in my path I stepped on without thinking. And, in the board was a nail sticking up as plain as day. I felt the nail hit the resistance of the sole of my shoe which provided some safety. The pointed end of the nail pierced into the sole of the shoe and, just for a moment, there was a contest to see which would prevail: was the nail so sharp that it would pierce the piece of leather from which its enemy was made, or would the leather be of such density that it could protect the foot inside the shoe. As quickly as it happened, I was aware of the leather sole pushing back on the intruder, but only momentarily. Then I felt the nail win in the contest as it went all the way through the leather barrier, after which it entered the soft flesh covering a small child’s foot. It punctured the skin and passed through the muscle and blood, sinew and cartilage, going upward through the foot and out the skin covering the top of the foot. It happened so quickly, I don’t remember it hurting all that much as it entered the foot. Pulling the foot off the nail wasn’t quite as quick.

I walked back into the house and told my parents what had happened. They removed the shoe and looked at the puncture wounds in the bottom and top of my foot. We had doctors in those days in Erick. But, I’m not sure it ever occurred to my parents they should take me to see one. We didn’t look for someone to do things for us which we could do for ourselves. And, it didn’t seem we needed help doctoring a foot that had stepped on a nail, we could treat it ourselves. We had coal oil.

My grand-parents kept coal oil and used it to fuel their cook stove. (Thinking of that, I suppose this was probably late in the late 1940s.) Coal oil is normally thought of as being the same substance as kerosene, however, that probably isn’t accurate. Coal oil really is a derivative of coal, produced by a process developed in Scotland in 1850. Kerosene is a distilled petroleum product. They are not technically the same, but had a common use and the terms in those days were used interchangeably, particularly among older people. I doubt that today one could even find a product marketed as “coal oil.” It probably doesn’t matter unless one starts using it for medicinal purposes.

Coal oil was considered a proper treatment for many ailments. It was used to treat flu and the common cold. Mixed with a little sugar or molasses, it would be taken internally to reduce fever or suppress a cough. The stuff is toxic so a little would go a long way. It was used to treat cuts and abrasions by either wrapping the wound in a coal oil soaked rag, or, more effectively, just pour the stuff into wound. In my situation, they simply poured coal oil in a pan and put my foot in it to soak for some time. I don’t recommend this as a remedy for injuries as I don’t know that you can get real coal oil today. Kerosene is a petroleum distillate and, as such, I think it may be more akin to gasoline than it is to coal oil. Now, I know gasoline has chemicals in it that are so dangerous that contact with skin is discouraged. (Of course, we used to wash our hands in gasoline to cut grease from the skin before then using soap and water.)

Tetanus was known back then. In fact, my mother, as a child, had suffered from “lockjaw”, a term used for tetanus in those earlier days because the disease first appeared as a stiffening of the jaw. It is a damnable disease caused by bacteria living in soil. Back in those days there was a very high mortality rate and even today it reportedly has an 11% rate of mortality. Since 1924 we have had a vaccine for tetanus, but I don’t know if that was to treat it or simply prevent getting it in the first place. It is something someone can get from a scratch while planting tomatoes in a garden. That’s why medical practitioners ask when your last tetanus shot was. If you ever get it, you may survive but you’ll have a hell of an experience to share with your kids and grand-kids afterwards. And, that is only if you survive.

I sat there about 30 minutes or so allowing the coal oil to soak into the open wound, seeping down deep to reach all the way into the center of the little violated foot. I still have that foot. And, no, I didn’t get lockjaw. I guess it worked, but I still recommend that if you step on a dirty, rusty nail, you need to go to the doctor. The incubation period for the bacteria causing tetanus is about 8 days and by then the vaccine can probably go to work to help fight it off. I don’t recommend you soak it in a petroleum distillate.

The Big 12

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The Big 12 was a great league--in football, basketball, women's basketball, and most other sports. Today, it's just a shadow of its former self. The powers that be have allowed this thing to deteriorate to the point that now we are simply trying to avoid further public embarrassment. I never fully understood why we demolished the Big 8. That conference seemed about the right size, a manageable size, and its teams were competitive. Generally, these conferences are about football. The Big 8 was anchored in the north by Nebraska University and in the south by the University of Oklahoma. The University of Colorado and Missouri were both a force to be reckoned with and the others, including Oklahoma State University, Iowa State University, Kansas and Kansas State had their moments. There was nothing greater than the rivalry between Nebraska and Oklahoma, a nationally televised football game every Thanksgiving. The whole nation anxiously awaited this game.

For some reason we decided to expand to a twelve school conference. The old Southwest Conference was dying and we allowed four of them to join with us and form the Big 12. The addition of the University of Texas, Texas A & M, Baylor and Texas Tech rounded out our conference. There was little reason to bring in Baylor, except to placate the politics of the Lone Star State. This Big 12 didn’t dominate the football world, but their claims of national titles, and their contention each year for an opportunity to play for the national title, certainly meant that every year they were going to be a factor to be considered.

Political mistakes were made in the operation of this conference. The league probably acquiesced too much to Texas in allowing that one state to dominate the governance of the conference. But, those things happen when you consider that one-third of the conference was in the State of Texas. And, Texas University is a rich and powerful school, so much so that an alliance between them and any other school gives new meaning to the phrase, “unequally yoked together.” The conference should have from day one stated the rules. They should have explained that each school got one vote and they would all have to live with the vote. And, if they did not want to abide by that simple rule, they should have had no place in the conference. When Texas decided to act independently, without going “independent”, by creating their Texas Network in conjunction with ESPN, this was a death knell for the conference. This should have been stopped before it ever got on the drawing board. There should never have been any place for such a “network” because the Big 12 should have formed its own before Texas ever suggested theirs. But, this wasn’t what started the fractures in the conference.

Every team in the league has had its “ups and downs.” Texas and Oklahoma, who seemed to dominate the conference, have had their moments at the head of the table and, in other years, they have both been deemed a mid-tier team, even though neither has been considered a mid-tier program. For years, the northern division of the conference was weak. Nebraska, of all teams, was weak. They had a change in their coaching staff and it has taken several years for them to get back on track. Colorado, after capturing a national championship and being a powerhouse was relegated to the sidelines of contention for a title. Iowa State and Missouri would show glimpses of talent, but they were never in contention. Kansas State enjoyed remarkable success under Bill Snyder and Kansas showed signs of improvement, but only briefly.

While the northern division of the conference only achieved mediocrity, Oklahoma State University was slowly climbing above that level of play and breaking into the level of contention for the top spot. If Nebraska, Missouri and Colorado had spent more time paying attention to their own program and less to Texas, they too could have improved and been competitive. Oklahoma State just got better. A donor helped bring their facilities up to date, but, more than that, they brought in a coach, a very talented young coach, who had ties to the university and would not use the position as a stepping stone to a bigger and better school and program. They have improved each year until the present season in which they are contending realistically for a shot at the national title.

There were early rumblings when the conference expanded to twelve members. Offices were moved to Irving, Texas, a suburb of Dallas, and some events which had always been in Kansas City were moved to Dallas. Not everything which oriented the conference in a southerly direction was bad. The four Texas schools were part of the conference and it was right that their geographical interests be taken into consideration as well as everyone else.

Once, in an interview, the head coach of the Texas Longhorns, referred to the time when “the Big 8 decided to join the Southwest Conference.” That revisionist history plays well in Texas, but it is of little value and merit elsewhere. The Southwest Conference disbanded and four of the homeless teams were invited to join the Big 8 and become the nucleus of the Big 12.

There were signs of weakening in the conference which were present in various teams, and it soon became evident that cracks in the team would corrupt the stability of the conference. The coach who led Colorado to a national championship was replaced by someone unable to continue their tradition. The same thing happened to Nebraska. Their coach retired and he was replaced by someone from that long, storied tradition who seemed poised to keep them up to their expected level. But, another administration came in who saw fit to replace him with someone with no understanding of the Nebraska tradition, someone who seemed to worry more about opposing teams’ mascots than with his own team’s performance. They were weakened and the conference paid the price.

Kansas State’s coach retired and his replacement was unable to build on the work of his predecessor. Texas Tech’s coach had a controversy with a television personality’s son and he was accused of mistreating the kid. The university fired him and, in so doing, weakened the team. We quickly saw that a team cannot be harmed without doing harm to the conference. And, then we saw it again in Kansas. A coach brought them out of the basement of insignificance, only to be discovered cursing at the players. He was mean to the kids and they ran him off, damaging the team and cracking the foundation of the conference.

Missouri, for whatever reason, decided it wanted to leave the Big 12. They wanted to go to the Big 10 where they had greater academic standards. We all smiled at that rationale, knowing all along that there was more to it than that, suspecting that their anger at Texas was the greater reason. They toyed with this for some time and the Big 10 decided they needed to expand. They invited Nebraska to jump to the Big 10 and Nebraska jumped. Nebraska had never tried to hide their contempt toward Texas and the way they had attempted to dominate the conference. It may have been short sighted, but Nebraska cut its ties with traditional rivalries and alliances and moved on the Big 10. Missouri? Their invitation to join the Big 10 must have been lost in the mail; they had to remain in the Big 12.

Oddly, as Nebraska was cutting and running to the Big 10, Colorado left the conference and became a part of the PAC 10. We didn’t see that coming. Perhaps they too thought they were moving to a better academic conference. They don’t have any better sports record in that conference than they had in the Big 12. The cracks in the foundation of the conference were getting worse.

This year has been a year of instability for the Big 12. Playing with only ten teams, following the departure of Nebraska and Colorado, realignment has become the major story both in this conference and throughout the country. For a time, it looked like the Big 12 might cease to exist. Texas A & M announced it was going to move into the SEC. Oklahoma and Texas announced they were being courted by the PAC 10 and were considering a move. Several of our smaller members had no idea what would happen to them or where they might be able to go. It was finally announced that Oklahoma and Texas would remain in the Big 12 and try to make it work.

Texas A & M did little to hide their disdain for Texas and their complaining suggested an inferior feeling, a feeling they could not compete with their big brother living down the road. A & M has a tradition in football and they should be able to compete with anyone. It isn’t likely that they will be able to do any better in the SEC than they were could have done in the Big 12. I hate to lose them.

Missouri stuck its ugly head up again, saying they were going to the SEC. They didn’t say this time that they were seeking academic excellence. Had they done that, we would have probably broken out in laughter all over the country. The interesting thing is that today (10/31/2011) we are still waiting to see the formal invitation from the SEC to Missouri to join them.

The conference has tried to hold its numbers together by the addition of Texas Christian University (TCU) and West Virginia. Whether these will be successful additions to the conference is still to be seen, but the resulting conference cannot be as good as when it included Nebraska and Texas A & M. It’ll do, but not much more than that can be said.

No one knows what lies ahead for the Big 12. Perhaps one day Oklahoma, Oklahoma State and Texas will go ahead and relocate with another conference. If that happens, the remaining teams will be left trying to make do as best they can. The real problem is that we are sparsely populated in the Great Plains, the natural geographical location for the conference. And a sparse population means limited television sets and television money drives collegiate football. That’s why we need an alliance with Texas. That’s why Texas carries such a big stick; there’s a lot of television sets in that state.

Whatever is going to happen in the future, this is where we are today. We still have member universities, including Iowa State, Kansas State, Kansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Oklahoma State, Texas Tech, Texas University, Baylor, TCU and West Virginia. We are still waiting to for the SEC to extend its invitation to Missouri. If and when it does, Missouri will be gone and they will likely not be heard of anymore. The remaining members of the conference will continue to be member universities. Texas will still be Texas. Oklahoma will continue to be Oklahoma. We will all have good sports programs, we will all battle for conference titles and, from time to time, we will compete for national titles. The rivalry between Oklahoma and Nebraska is a thing of the past and it is sorely missed. The rivalry between Kansas and Missouri will become a thing of the past and it, too, will be sorely missed. But, the Big 12 will continue to be a force in collegiate sports.

A Dinner for a Date

Any young man who doesn’t learn to cook has a miserable life ahead. I try to explain to my son that he should have more pride than to expect a girl, or a wife later on, to cook for him. And, it is a shameful reflection on his parents, us, for that to occur. Every boy, every young man, needs to be able to cook for himself. The more independence he can assert for himself, the better person he will be, and not only that, there are a lot of girls, and young women, out there who cannot cook. So, every young man needs to be able to cook for himself.

There is a second benefit for being able to cook: it impresses girls. So, allow me to walk you through a date night, your place, a meal prepared by you for a girl you want to impress.

Clean your apartment, or other place of residence. (If you’re living with your parents, stop it. Move out and get your own place, something you can afford.) No one wants to spend the evening in a messy place. The best way to clean a place, and keep it clean, is to get rid of stuff, simplify your life and living. Get rid of clutter. Get a magazine or a sales catalogue from a hip store specializing in young people’s life and décor, and try to decorate using their suggestions. Find a picture you like and mimic it. Once you get it clean and organized, keep it that way. It is a lot easier to keep it clean than it is to get a dirty place straightened up. Simply make it a habit of picking up after yourself.

Get a pound, or slightly more, of round steak which has been run through one of those meat tenderizers, the kind that somewhat shreds it. It will take you a little time to prepare, but this, your major course, can be prepared while she’s sitting there in the kitchen in awe of your many talents. Cut the steak into bite sized pieces and throw it into a microwaveable safe dish. I prefer to cook this in a Corning Ware dish, just large enough to hold everything.

Sprinkle a little salt and lemon/pepper on the meat and allow it to sit while preparing something else. Have a little wine available for you and your date, along with a small tray of cheese and crackers. Have both a red and white wine available so she can have a choice before dinner.

In the refrigerator, have a salad made of mixed spring greens, in which you have dropped a few cherry tomatoes. You can buy it already made, but transfer it from its packaging into a bowl, covered with Saran Wrap, so it will give the impression of homemade. Also, buy a packaged dessert, a desert similar to a cheese cake. It is easy to make, just follow the directions. After completed, put a little canned cherry pie filling on top and keep it in the refrigerator.

Get some walnuts, no more than a handful, and toast them in a non-stick skillet. Simply place them in the skillet over a medium heat and allow them to toast. Mix well and often, shaking and tossing them. Don’t allow them to burn. It would be preferable to do this while she is there watching you because she will be impressed with the shake and toss method, but do it early because they need to cool down after being toasted. Set aside.

Earlier in the day, you should get some frozen rolls and prepare them according to directions. Try to have them come out of the oven just in time for dinner, or a little earlier. I recommend serving with a soft margarine, or, if you want to really impress her, get a quart of whipping cream and, assuming you have an electric mixer, mix it in front of her until it becomes whipped cream. Then mix it a little longer and it will turn to fresh butter. Mix this with honey to form a honey-butter spread. That little touch will be a winner and she will be duly impressed. If you smoke, I could tell you how to impress her by lighting your cigarette, but you don’t need to be starting now. And, she doesn’t need to be kissing a smoker; it’s something like licking the bottom of an ashtray.

You will need a bell pepper, red or green or a combination, cut into slices. You also need an onion peeled and cut into slices which are then separated into rings. You can prepare these two items, onions and peppers, ahead of time if you want and have them available in the refrigerator. Dump these pepper slices and onion rings on top of the meat. If you don’t have enough room, you need something a little larger. Next, dump in a can of Campbell’s Golden Mushroom Soup. Pour in enough red wine to cover the meat, cover and place in a microwave. Cook for 25 minutes on high setting.

Put on some music, some soft crooning preferably. Don’t play hard rock or anything else which would suggest agitation and dancing. The only dancing you want to consider is slow and close. Besides, you’re going to be busy preparing the rest of the meal. With slow music, she can sip her wine and sway to the music, all the time admiring your domesticity. I would recommend something by Frank Sinatra or, to show you are really cool, something by Landau Eugene Murphy, Jr.

While the dish is cooking, prepare either rice or egg noodles or chicken flavored Rice-A-Roni. If you prepare rice, use the 5-minute instant rice; it’s easier. And, if you prepare noodles, cook them, drain and put in a pan with butter; heat, salt and pepper to taste. But, I recommend the Rice-A-Roni. Have your oven set on 195° which is an appropriate temperature to keep your plates warm, as well as keeping anything warm which is prepared before the stew is completed.

Have a pot of boiling water in which you place some salt. Drop in about 8 asparagus spears. With asparagus spears, wash and cut off about the lower 1 inch of the spear. There is a more precise way to clean asparagus, but this will do for now. This is all the preparation asparagus needs. Place it in the boiling salted water for no more than 5 minutes. If you want to, experiment ahead of time. You want asparagus to still have some snap to it when served. It would probably be best to cook the asparagus after the stew has completed cooking. The stew will stay warm while you prepare the side dishes.

Prepare the salad dressing while she is sitting there. Don’t do it ahead of time and don’t pour it out of a bottle. This little action of making your own dressing will impress her. In a mixing bowl, place three tablespoons of raspberry jam and about a ¼ cup of apple cider vinegar. Thoroughly mix the two with a whisk. Add a tablespoon of Italian spices and whip in about ¼ cup or so of olive oil which is added slowly while whisking. (This is called “emulsification.” She’ll be impressed if you use that word.)

By now, the stew should be done. She may ask you what the name of the stew is and you should tell her it’s an old peasant dish, intended to bless a young couple’s relationship with health, prosperity and longevity. You’ll see a slight smile on her face as she takes another sip of wine. As the dish is preparing, when you have a break in the action, sit with her and join in with the wine and the cheese. Tell her how much you enjoy Landau’s singing.

Take the salad greens from the refrigerator and place in the bowl in which you have made the dressing. Mix the greens in the salad dressing and then place in two salad bowls which have been kept chilled in the refrigerator. Place the walnuts on a cutting board and rough chop with a chef’s knife. Sprinkle the walnuts on the salad in the individual bowls and then place two cherry tomatoes on each salad.

Using a slotted spoon, place some of the stew on each plate. (Remember, the plates have been kept warm in the 195° oven.) The liquid is simply for flavoring, you don’t need much of it on the plate. Place some of the Rice-A-Roni on the plate and then the 4 asparagus spears on each plate. Have a little melted butter ready and pour a little on the asparagus, then salt and pepper to taste. (A little lemon juice in the melted butter would be a positive. If you do that, use some of the lemon zest as well. But, don’t make it bitter to the taste. You just want a hint of the lemon.)

These servings don’t have to be overwhelmingly large. Remember, you’re not there to fatten up. You simply want to quit being hungry and, in the meantime, you want to impress her with your culinary prowess.

So, there you have it. There are two plates, separated by candles, on which you have the stew, the asparagus and the Rice-A-Roni, with a roll. You have the soft honey-butter which you have made in her presence. On the side is a salad, dressed with your very own dressing which she has watched you make. Serve this with a nice red wine, perhaps Chianti or Shiraz.

Afterwards, serve dessert. She didn’t see you make this, but she will be able to tell that you did. She doesn’t need to know you made it from a mix, but, if she asks, tell her the truth. Don’t lie when it’s unnecessary. Serve a light wine with dessert. I recommend a German wine, Liebfraumilch, which literally translates into English as "Beloved lady's milk.” You can tell her that.

There you have it. A perfect evening with Landau Murphy singing in the background. Now, I’m outta here and you’re on your own.

Ken

The day after I was born, my brother celebrated his third birthday. He was born November 2, 1941, just a month and five days before the Japanese attacked the United States Naval Base at Pearl Harbor. He was that close to being a “war baby. “ I suppose there is a name for that generation; perhaps he was a “pre-war baby” or a “depression-transition baby.” Whatever his generational placement, he was my older brother.

We were close enough in age that we had some common and contemporary interests. But, he was older than me and he was turned in another direction. It was not until recent years that I came to realize it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t my fault either. It was Eddie’s fault, our oldest brother. Eddie was the oldest kid in the family, and he was an accomplished and entertaining person. Kennith naturally found himself in a position to compete with Eddie for attention and status within the family. He didn’t have to be concerned with me, he was older and faster and stronger and smarter than me. He had to focus on Eddie who could and would outshine him in just about any contest. As Kennith was three years older than me, so Eddie was four years older than Kennith.

Kennith became Ken in his later years, but while he was still “Kennith”, while he was a very young “Kennith”, he decided what he would do with his life. While still in elementary school, he decided he wanted to be a math teacher, a goal he pursued with some enthusiasm. Graduating from high school in 1959, he enrolled in college and went straight through, completing his undergraduate degree in four years. After graduating from Oklahoma Christian College with a B.S. degree in Mathematics, he began his teaching career at Western Heights High School in Oklahoma City. The year 1963 was an interesting time in public education in Oklahoma. Typical of his peers, he began his career earning about $3,000 annually. Yes, for that time and in that place, $3,000 wasn’t much money. And, it surely wasn’t much money for a person with a college education and a professional certification.

He taught there for a brief period and then moved to the Detroit area where he taught at Michigan Christian College. By then, he had completed his work on his M.S. degree in mathematics. He taught at M.C.C. for the next ten years.

Kennith started something by going to college. There were five children in our family and when you review all the education and higher degrees we hold, it is amazing when one considers our mother did not complete her senior year of high school and our father quit school in the eighth grade, not an uncommon situation among Depression Era kids. Ken was the first in our family, and the first in either side of the family, to attend college and eventually graduate with a degree. Both my sisters and I followed him to college where we were all able to get at least a master’s degree and even more. I’m not sure any of us would have done this without his example.

After ten years in Michigan, he returned to Oklahoma where he gave up his teaching career to work for Southwestern Bell. He began there about the time computers were making their way into the workplace. Not only were they new to companies, but the personal computer was making its way into the American society. The company purchased a large number of these and Kennith saw his opportunity to make his mark. They were a company with a host of powerful pieces of equipment, but their employees didn’t know what to do with them. Seeing an opportunity, he began rewriting the instruction manuals so the workers could understand the new versions written in plain English. He then began teaching employees to use these new devises and how to apply them for greater productivity. For years, when I was asked what my brother did for Southwestern Bell, I had to simply tell them I had no idea, all I knew was that he did something with computers.

I was always envious of Kennith. As kids, he was faster and stronger than was I. I thought he looked better than I did, and there was no doubt he had much greater self-confidence. I think he had a more positive high school experience than I did. He was three years older and, thus, three years ahead of me in school. When I went to high school, I tried to follow in his steps. I joined the same organizations he joined and tried my hand at the same activities he did before me, sometimes with greater success than he experienced, often with less.

After going to college and securing his degree in math, he entered the teaching profession. I followed three years later and selected math as my major as well. I was pretty good at arithmetic, so why not. I discovered calculus my second year in college. He tried to help me through it, but it simply made no sense at all. Even before my calculus experience, I was losing interest in math. Even as a kid, I had always been interested in the past. I liked stories and I liked to tell stories, not just for the entertainment value, but for the educational value. Of course, it doesn’t hurt anything to be entertaining as well. I first moved into history and then into religion and eventually into the ministry, leaving all thoughts of math behind. Math was Kennith’s interest and I realized from that point on that I needed to be my own person and quit trying to follow in his steps.

Kennith raised two daughters, both of whom are a credit to their parents. Like most of us, he has lived a quiet life, enjoying his family and trying to make a difference in his small community and circle of friends. And, he has made a difference. He and Linda have taken on a cause of helping abused, battered and neglected children. Through his social club, he has championed these underprivileged children, taking their pains as his own, and their needs as a cry for help he could hardly ignore. He took to heart the words of Jesus, “Insomuch as you did it to the least of these, you have done it unto me.”

Kennith became Ken and, following his retirement from Southwestern Bell, he began teaching at the Oklahoma State University campus in Oklahoma City. He teaches math. It all makes perfect sense to him and he is masterful at imparting that knowledge to his students. Some people are talented like that. Perhaps the final words used to describe him should be, “Master Teacher.”

Kennith, as he’ll always be known to me, will turn 70 his next birthday. He will be the second of the Franklin kids to enter the eighth decade of life. The 40s didn’t bother me at all. The 50s and the 60s were taken in stride, but when my oldest brother turned 70 a few years back, it was difficult for me to take. We weren’t supposed to get older; we were supposed to remain carefree kids on the farm, as we were so long ago. But, Eddie turned 70; now, Kennith is about to turn 70; and, I’m only three years behind him.

“If I Were a Rich Man”

Fiddler on the Roof is one of the classics of musical theater. Set in 1905 Tsarist Russia, it features a milkman named Tevye, a member of a Jewish community who faces conflicts in his life, both within his family from his wife and daughters and from the authorities who, by the end of the play, will order the expulsion of all Jews from the area. Toward the end of the musical, or the movie if one watches the film version, there is the pathetic movement of the refugee Jews leaving what was their homeland, carrying and dragging and pulling and pushing their few meager belongings. However, with all its sadness, the story is a delightfully funny study of human relationships.

The story is based on Tevye and his Daughters (or Tevye the Milkman and Other Tales) by Sholem Aleichem. Tevye is the father of five daughters, three of whom are of marriageable age. He has been married to Golde since they were young and the two of them have not accomplished much in life, monetarily. The show in its most early scenes shows Tevye, the local milkman, delivering milk. His horse is lame so he is shown pulling the milk cart himself. Speaking to himself, deploring his lot in life, he asks God, who would it hurt “if I were a rich man?” He then breaks into a song by that title, “If I Were a Rich Man.”

If he was a rich man, of course, he “wouldn’t have to work hard.” More than that, he’d “build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen, right in the middle of the town.” That house would have “one long staircase just going up, and one even longer coming down, and one more going nowhere, just for show.”

Poignantly, he also thinks of his wife, Golde. “I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man’s wife with a proper double-chin. Supervising meals to her heart’s delight. I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock. Oy, what a happy mood she’s in. Screaming at the servants, day and night.”

Then he turns the song to the most important thing he could enjoy, if only he were a wealthy man.

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like Solomon the wise.
“If you please, Reb Tevye…”
“Pardon me, Reb Tevye…”
Posing problems that would cross a Rabbi’s eyes!

And it won’t make one bit of difference if I answer right or wrong.
When you’re rich, they think you really know!
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.

And I’d discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.

I can relate to Tevye. Who would it have hurt if I were a rich man? I, too, would live in a fine tall house with three staircases, one for “up”, one for “down” and the other just to look at. I’d have ducks and chickens and geese in the front yard, making noise as if to say, “There goes a wealthy man!” And, like Tevye, people would think I was smart. I could discuss the holy books with the learned men of town and I might even get a choice seat at church. And, I might be consulted in order to give my opinion about issues which matter.

I once attended a rich man’s funeral. A large crowd showed up to share their grief with the hundreds of people who filled the sanctuary to capacity. I told someone I didn’t know he was a member of the church which he so loved and worked so hard to carry on his own shoulders. Eyes rolled with a simple declaration, “He was on the rolls.”

Ah, yes, I thought, as I tried to think of six people who would care enough if I died that they might serve as pall bearers.

If I were a rich man,
ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum.