Do the Thing

    I’ve developed a guiding philosophy: “do the thing.” Everyone has a “thing.” There is something, some activity, that drives you and fills your soul with joy. You don’t necessarily need to do it for a living. Your passion doesn’t have to be your paycheck. It might be teaching, or nursing, or painting, or playing a sport. For me, it’s acting.

    I am an actor. I don’t get paid, at least not yet, and maybe never, but I am an actor. In one sense I am new at this. I’ve only been on the stage plying my craft since early last year. But, in a more fundamental sense, I’ve always been an actor. I literally cannot remember a time when I did not want to act for a living. My mom tells a story of us watching TV when I was small — maybe four years old. I saw a character get shot, and asked her if he was dead. She explained that the character was dead, but that the person was pretending, and when the camera stopped, he would get up and go home to his family. From that moment on, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

    All through Junior High and High School, I took Drama classes and competed on the forensics team — sort of acting with your feet stapled to the floor. My “plan,” for lack of a better word, was to move to Orlando after graduation, get a job at Disney’s Universal Studios, be discovered, and BAM: working actor. As you are doubtlessly aware, moving halfway across the state is far easier said than done. So, I languished in dead-end, minimum wage jobs for a while, and eventually enlisted in the Air Force. For the five years prior to my enlistment, and the twenty years I served, my dream was shelved — relegated to occasional daydreams. After retirement, I eventually enrolled here at Thomas Nelson as a theatre major in the Fall of 2017.

    In March of 2018, I debuted as Dr. Bradman in Noel Coward’s Blithe Spirit, here at Thomas Nelson. In the past two years, I have auditioned for and been cast in four different productions, and I have never in my life been as consistently happy as I have been these past two years. If you don’t know what your thing is, find it. You may not see a path to doing your thing. You may not be capable of devoting time and resources to it at the moment. That’s ok. Just, whatever you do, don’t let go of the thing. Shelve it if you must, but don’t give up entirely. Find your thing, and do it.

Are We So Different?

I gave a couple speeches in class this semester. I'd like to share them with you. This is a transcript of the first.

Before I get started, could I get a few volunteers that don’t mind standing for a few minutes? [Have them stand in the back]

This is a lovely picture — a happy picture. One that looks like it could easily be on my mother’s mantle, or your grandparents’. But if you look closer, you’ll see why neither your family nor mine would ever display it, even if a family member were pictured. It is a picture of some of the SS staff at Auschwitz, perhaps the most well-known Nazi death camp from WWII. They look like normal people, don’t they? I can’t speak for these specific individuals, but most Germans were normal people. How could they condone the atrocities committed by their government? Hitler, and his government used a number of techniques, including nationalism, demonization of minority groups, and control of information to manipulate the populace. One of the first things the Nazis did was evoke a sense of nationalism, of German identity, in the German people.

In the late 1920s, Germany was a beaten nation. They had lost WWI, so their pride was hurting. They were forced to pay reparations, so there was resentment toward other European nations. And, if that financial burden wasn’t enough, the Great Depression sent their economy even further into decline. In Mein Kampf, and in speeches, Hitler set the country up on a pedestal and declared that service to one’s nation was the highest ideal. That’s not an unpopular idea even today. It sounds a lot like patriotism, which, I’m sure we’d all agree is a good thing. But things can get dark when pride in one’s country becomes a prime motivator. “Deutschland uber alles,” or “Germany over all others” from the national anthem took on a sinister new meaning as they invaded Poland for “Lebensraum” or “living space.” Things get even more sinister when you start restricting what, or who, is part of that country.

Most of us have read this poem, or some part of it. It was written by a Lutheran pastor who had been imprisoned in Dachau, when they came for him. It is usually named “Confession.” On February 27th, 1932, a man set fire to the Reichstag — like the Senate chambers. The man who was arrested and later convicted was a Communist. Incidentally, Benjamin Hett, who got his PhD in modern German History says that it was impossible for the arsonist to be working alone, and all the evidence points to Nazi assistance on the job. On February 28th, 1932 — literally the next day — the Reichstag Fire Decree was issued. It dissolved many civil liberties, and the suppression of Communists began. Soon after, it was Social Democrats and even the German National People’s Party that were banned. It didn’t take long for Hitler to begin scapegoating Jews as well. To define them as outsiders, as undesirable. And he didn’t stop there. Germans were strong, and healthy, and made strong families. The disabled, the sick, homosexuals — they also didn’t fit in the Fuhrer’s vision of Germany. All of these people needed to be removed, for the sake of Germany, of course. They were all “resettled.” Resettlement is fairly easy to accept, when that’s all you know about it. Because the Nazi party worked hard to control the flow of information.

Part of that work was in ways you expect. Unwelcome news outlets were dismissed as “lügenpresse” or “lying press.” Goebbels, the Reich’s Propaganda Minister regulated Germany’s more than 10,000 magazines and periodicals, directing their output much like a conductor does an orchestra. He said “not everyone has the right to play what he pleases…. we only want them to blow according to one plan.” However, one tactic they used is less often considered: just keeping things out of sight. For example, when the Nazis started transitioning from concentration camps to death camps like Auschwitz, those new camps were built in Poland, well away from the eyes of German citizens. When prisoners were transferred to those camps, and even when they were then killed, they were often listed in camp records as “resettled.”

Of course, many knew what was happening. I’m sure there were plenty of true believers in Hitler’s message of German racial superiority. But it’s not hard to see how dangerous it can be to turn a blind eye to single-minded nationalism; to demonization of the other, be it racial, religious, political, or what-have-you; to manipulation of the press and other information sources. It’s a danger we all need to be aware of and vigilant for. And, in case you’re thinking it could never happen to you, ask yourself: “have I forgotten about my classmates standing in the back of the room?”