My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Hiding Humanity
Institutions and images challenge and confront one another. Ideologies and opinions come into conflict. But behind the image is a person. The institution is ultimately flesh and blood. The opinion conceals who stands behind it, nor do ideologies live apart from their disciples. Nothing survives as an idea. It must be sustained in the mind and heart of the believer. However, it is far easier, so much safer, to hide humanity in a movement. To be a something attaching a something else is as secure as it is impersonal.
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