Through the Force things you will see, other places,
    the future, the past, old friends long gone.
                 --Yoda training Luke Skywalker, The Empire Strikes Back

Every year for the past 25 years (yes, I’m that old) I’ve been the emcee of the church Variety Show. This year I welcomed everyone to the 150th annual Variety Show because it feels that long. (I’m a funny girl, yes I am.)

I actually prefer to be called impresario because I remember a time when that’s what producers of variety shows and musicals and special performances were called. I remember Sol Hurok who, among other things, arranged for Marian Anderson to sing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and brought the Bolshoi Ballet to the U.S. after the Cuban Missile Crisis. I said I was old.

But back to the Variety Show. For years I’ve discouraged folks from calling it the talent show. Talent Show implies a competition and, well, talent. Now all my performers in the show are “talented” just not in the way you think of talent. They’re talented in their fearless willingness to stand up in front of their friends and family and perform. But, some of my performers are more…skilled than others, and certainly some of them are more comfortable on stage than others. But everyone is welcome to do what they do — within the confines of family entertainment — on the stage for 5 minutes or so. Except of course the extremely skilled, almost ready for Broadway folks. They can stay up there for 7 minutes.

Like I said, I’ve been doing this for 25 years. Nobody has the institutional memory of this singular church event in the same way that I do. Oh, everyone vaguely remembers some of the performances from year to year, but barring the unusual occurrence in church — one year a member reading a selection during the church service backed into the table of candles and caught fire, but that wasn’t at the Variety Show — no one remembers the performances the way I do.

And no one has the bittersweet sentimental moments when I’m putting together the list of performers and I think of those old friends who will never perform again. I’ll mention a few.

Marty Fixman sang country songs acappella at shows for more than 10 years and, in the beginning, was terrible. But over time either his singing improved or he grew on me — probably some of both. Marty passed away some years ago, and he might not have been anyone’s favorite, but he was steady, dependable, and lovable in his desire to perform. He certainly wasn’t my worst experience as an impresario.

(That spot is reserved for the elderly veteran who did a comedy standup routine consisting entirely of jokes told at the minister’s expense. It wasn’t funny at all. If I had had a preview of the material — in the beginning of my tenure shows consisted of one surprise after another — I would have found someone to talk him out of it. That particular performance occurred during one of my first three shows. I cringe every time I think of it.)

Al Searle recited the funniest poem about death that he himself had written. Al Searle was like a shaman in our congregation who led the youth group on strenuous hikes even into his eighties. I served on the Religious Education Committee with him and for years I’d introduce myself as the longest serving member except for Al Searle. When he passed away in his nineties, his memorial service was standing room only.

Jay Holmes always showed up in a tuxedo and proceeded to thrill the crowd with a classic like “Stardust” or “Begin the Beguine.” He too was in his eighties but his tenor was lovely and only a little shaky at the end. One year when I introduced him, I declared him to be “all that and a bag of chips” which I sincerely meant as a compliment. He was adorable and charming and attended the shows even when he couldn’t perform.

I sigh when I think of them. But my heart drops when I remember the next two names:

Katie Tyson played piano ethereally (her mother always said wistfully “no one plays Clair De Lune like Katie”) and sang with a fine youthful soprano. She was a joy to hear especially in folk and pop tunes and if she wasn’t playing the piano she was accompanied by her father, Herb. Katie died in a car crash in 2009 a few months after her 21st birthday. She was a dear friend to my daughters and cherished by me as another child under my protection.

And then, of course, there’s her father, Herb Tyson. Herb who was drafted/volunteered for my second Variety Show became my “wow finish” for many years. The first year he brought the house down with a cover of Arlo Guthrie’s “The City of New Orleans”. Thereafter, he used the Variety Shows to premiere his latest compositions which would become instant hits in our church community. His songs were melodic and frequently funny although he had the heart of a romantic coupled with a stern knowledge of what was right and what was wrong. He was the perfect Unitarian troubadour. His songs “Our Doors Are Open” and “The Heart of It All” are standards in our church.

Herb died in 2018 of cancer. His last performance was in 2016. He was diagnosed before the next performance and became too ill to perform. And now he’s been gone for two shows, and I will miss him forever. His wife, Karen, one of my best friends, preceded him in 2012. Herb always said the stress of Katie’s death caused Karen’s cancer. Two years before his death in 2016 he found love again thankfully, because someone like Herb shouldn’t be alone, and remarried.

I miss them all, my friends. For me the Variety Show is some weird kind of nexus that seems to whisk me back in time.

         In memory yet green, in joy still felt,
         The scenes of life rise sharply into view.
         We triumph; Life's disasters are undealt,
         And while all else is old, the world is new.
                                         -- Isaac Asimov

The world is indeed new when I produce a new show and a new performer presents me with a surprise that reminds me that the unknown is nothing to fear. But the past is always with me, “in memory yet green.”

“Franklin:   Mr. Adams
But, Mr. Adams
The things I write are only light extemporania
I won't put politics on paper, it's a mania!
So I refuse to use the pen in Pennsylvania”

From “But, Mr. Adams” by  Sherman Edwards appearing in the Original Broadway Cast album 1776 (1969)

OK, that’s the background, and remember I was only half-smart which I define as having read a lot of stuff and memorized a lot of facts, but I didn’t have anything in my fluffy little head that really made sense of my facts and stuff. But I loved the back-and-forth, the wheeling-dealing, the this-for-that, the dare we say, quid pro quo, of politics. Because that’s what it was: you vote for this bill and I’ll vote for that bill. For sure this led to a lot of abuse: military bases, VA hospitals, highways, bridges, being built in maybe not the most efficacious, appropriate, or useful areas. Ask yourself: why is the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, California while rockets are built in Huntsville, Alabama and the Johnson Space Center is in Houston, Texas?

But the awkward inefficiencies aside, a lot of good got done with the quid pro quo of politics: Social Security, desegregation, the Voting Rights Act, Medicare, Medicaid, the EPA, the National Environmental Protection Act, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.

I loved the wheeling and dealing, the negotiating for advantage. I had read The Selling of the President as well as The Making of the President – 1968. I was enthralled by those books. To show us how the process worked and disabuse some of us of our idealistic notions, the political science department staged a mock nominating convention (not a mock election). I, being only half-smart, and apparently having no idealistic notions whatsoever, managed to align myself with the dark horse candidate who won. He (of course, it was a he, this was the sixties, man) and his supporters got A’s, everyone else something less. The favorite candidate was extremely annoyed he lost. He was also a pompous ass. His comeuppance was delicious.

This quid pro quo is how we imperfectly move forward as a society. Two steps forward, one step back, the good with the bad, the salt with the sugar, but slowly a world gets made that while imperfect, is at least worth living in.

Yup. It’s all local. Because you can always attack your opponent where he lives. You can always use past misdeeds or perceived misdeeds to paint your opponent in an unflattering light. I accept this because we all have to own up to our mistakes and do better. It’s not the crime folks, it’s the coverup.

Here’s what I can’t accept:

Lies. Too much money. No quid pro quo. Lies.

John McCain saw the rot in the Federal Budget and thought that elimination of pork barrel spending – the this-for-that that had oiled the wheels of progress for so long – would, at a minimum, pare down unnecessary and ill-considered spending. It may have. But his Earmark Elimination Act, introduced on January 23, 2018 removed a pin from the three-legged stool that made the House and Senate work. Without those this-for-that earmarks, there was no reason to walk across the aisle and get someone to vote with you. There were no carrots any more, only sticks. And everyone proceeded to use their sticks on each other.

The Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act (also known as the McCain-Feingold Act which was the Senate bill that didn’t actually get enacted but rather the Shays-Meehan Act which originated in the House) was supposed to effect real campaign finance reform. Unfortunately when challenged in court it led to the infamous Supreme Court Citizens United v. FEC ruling which opened the floodgates on corporate money by holding that corporations had the right of free speech. The sheer piles and quantity and mounds and heaps of money that are allowed in running for public office are astounding. Look at Mike Bloomberg’s ad buys – its possible he may actually buy a nomination. Money was always in politics but now the wealthy took a page from Reagan’s playbook on ending the Cold War – spend your enemy into oblivion – and obliterate any pol or issue that comes at odds with their purposes. Money can swamp anything.

The lies. The out and out lying on Facebook, the revolting tweets, the opinion commentators on Fox and MSNBC and CNN that masquerade as news — a plague on all your houses. The Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act requires that any ad promoting a candidate for public office must have the words I’m so-and-so and I approve this ad attached to it. It may be in teeny tiny type but it’s there. At least if you’re telling baldfaced falsehoods about your opponent you have to confess to telling them. But this doesn’t stop PACs from running ads that imply a whole host of misleading half-truths.

(Now to get another more in-depth perspective you might want to look at this article on Vox from June 2017 – Two eminent political scientists: The problem with democracy is voters and if you get really interested then look at their book, Democracy for Realists.)

But back to my original statement which if you forgot (you’re still here? Man, are you bored) is why I won’t write about politics here.

Politics isn’t fun any more because no one knows how to do it. Everyone has run to their ideological corners and won’t come out. The Democrats try to pry the Republicans out of that corner and wheedle them into the light to pass some watered-down legislation. But unless it includes money for something the Republicans really, really want or tax cuts for someone the Republicans really, really owe – no dice. The most laughable example of this was the passage of the Affordable Care Act. Here were the Democrats trying to come up with a win-win for everybody and the Republicans pretending to want to work together. After they drained the Act of the public option, weighed it down with the individual mandate (an idea that originated at the Heritage Foundation and was originally proposed by Newt Gingrich) the Republicans ultimately voted against it’s passage. Not one Republican could bring themselves to cross the aisle and take a step to solving a problem which has been talked about since before FDR’s time. Talk about Lucy ripping the football away just as Charlie Brown tries to kick it. Ditto issues like immigration, climate change, reining in government spending — nothing is getting done.

Politics is inherently a creature of compromise. It embodies the principle of half a loaf is better than none. If you don’t understand that, I got nothing for you.

Politics is about accomplishing goals to further a more perfect union. Why else do it? Power is not a satisfying end in itself, not really. It must be used, for good or ill. But, why not for good? Why not for lasting achievement? OK, apparently some idealism took root somewhere along the way.

But power as wielded by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell is largely to block the other side and to insure that any accomplishments by the Republican side will be upheld in the courts even after their power is gone. There’s no bargaining, no negotiating, no give-and-take. No politics.

Well where’s the fun in that? And this is from a person who can tell you the battleground states. Who can tell you some funny stories about Lyndon Johnson and Everett Dirksen and who remembers that once upon a time Montana and Idaho sent DEMOCRATIC Senators to Washington. A person who has lived long enough to look at the presidencies of Johnson and Nixon and see not only the failures but also the accomplishments. While I won’t ever feel sympathy for Nixon, I feel sad that Johnson inherited the Vietnam War from Eisenhower and Kennedy because it overshadowed his truly amazing (and I don’t use that word lightly) achievements. And as a veteran of anti-war marches that’s saying something.

Both sides are in the business of winning at all costs. There are some respectable folk who’ve had no choice but to leave in disgust. Jeff Flake of Arizona and Tom Davis of Virginia, both Republicans, come to mind. Prominent Republicans like Steve Schmidt (McCain’s campaign manager) and Joe Scarborough, former Florida congressman, have renounced the GOP and become independents.

Currently I’m blaming the Republicans for not playing by the rules. The Democrats in the far past behaved just as badly. I’ve voted in every election since I could vote in 1972. I’ve voted Republican. I’ve voted Libertarian. I’ve voted Independent. I’ve voted Democrat. I’ve only voted for the winning presidential candidate in four elections out of twelve.

No one knows how to do politics any more. It’s a vicious free-for-all with no rules. (I haven’t even touched on gerrymandering and voter suppression which is just…wrong.) There is no desire to form a more perfect union. There is only us and them. And pretty soon, if this keeps up, both sides will lose.