Lauren Bacall

Actress Lauren Bacall has passed on.  I only saw a few of her movies with Humphrey Bogart.  I also saw her in the Stephen King movie Misery, in which she played author Paul Sheldon’s agent.  Apparently, she was also in an episode of Family Guy, but I would have to watch that episode again, as parts of it I remember, and parts of it are fuzzy to me.

I was thinking this morning about Ann Coulter’s reference to Bacall in her book, Treason, which was Coulter’s defense of McCarthyism.  According to Coulter, both Bacall and Bogie ultimately distanced themselves from the Hollywood Ten, who refused to answer questions by the House Committee on Un-American Activities about whether they were members of the Communist Party USA.

This stood out to me because I had often heard that Bogie and Bacall traveled to Washington, D.C. to support the Hollywood Ten, but not that they later rescinded that support.  Ann Coulter narrates that Bogie and Bacall were embarrassed by the Hollywood Ten’s extreme rants, such as the claim of one of the ten that the congressmen were Nazis and that concentration camps would be set up in America.  Lauren Bacall said, “We were so naive it was ridiculous.”  The article that Coulter cites for the Bacall quote, however, contextualizes it differently: Bacall was saying she was naive because reporters were asking her hard questions, and the actors and actresses there were accustomed to softball questions from movie magazines.  Bacall, after all, went on to say, “When the press started to ask us questions, they had a field day.”

Wikipedia acknowledges that Bogie and Bacall distanced themselves from the Hollywood Ten, but it narrates it a bit differently, as if Bogie and Bacall were trying to protect themselves:

“In October 1947, Bacall and Bogart traveled to Washington, D.C., along with other Hollywood stars, in a group that called itself the Committee for the First Amendment (CFA). She appeared alongside Humphrey Bogart in a photograph printed at the end of an article he wrote, titled I’m No Communist’, in the May 1948 edition of Photoplay magazine,^[47] written to counteract negative publicity resulting from his appearance before the House Un-American Activities Committee. Bogart and Bacall distanced themselves from the Hollywood Ten and said: ‘We’re about as much in favor of Communism as J. Edgar Hoover.'”^[48] 

Moreover, wikipedia’s article on the Hollywood Ten states: “In his 1981 autobiography, Hollywood Red, screenwriter Lester Cole [who was one of the Ten] stated that all of the Hollywood Ten had in fact been Communist Party USA members.^[66] Other members of the Hollywood Ten, such as Dalton Trumbo^[67] and Edward Dmytryk,^[68] have also admitted to being Communists at the time the Committee questioned them.”

You can click on the footnotes if you want to see wikipedia’s sources.

Why was this of concern?  Because there was fear that Hollywood Communists would use movies as Communist propaganda, portraying the Soviets as good and capitalists as evil.

Whatever she did during the Hollywood blacklisting years, Bacall remained a liberal throughout her life.

Anyway, this was a rather tedious post to write.  Maybe someone will find it interesting.

R.I.P., Lauren Bacall.

Roger Morris' Richard Milhous Nixon 1

I started Roger Morris' tome, Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of an American Politician.  Morris' book covers Richard Nixon's life up to and including 1952.  It also talks about people, places, and events prior to Richard Nixon's birth.

I was initially reluctant to include Morris' book in My Year (or More) of Nixon, since I don't have a desire to read every single book about Richard Nixon that was ever written.  Eventually, I want for my Year (or More) of Nixon to come to an end, so that I can move on to other books that I want to read!  But I decided to include Morris' book for a variety of reasons.  First, I was intrigued by Morris' story when I found out who Morris was.  Morris served under Henry Kissinger in Richard Nixon's National Security Council, and Morris resigned because he disagreed with Nixon's invasion of Cambodia.  In both volume 2 of his memoirs and In the Arena, Nixon appears to take some whacks at Morris, without mentioning Morris' name.  Second, I was interested in an alternative view on key events in Nixon's early political career, such as the Alger Hiss case and Nixon's controversial fund.  By and large, the books that I have read assume that Alger Hiss was a Communist spy, and Morris seems to disagree with that.  I'd like to read what Morris has to say.  Third, the book was really cheap on Amazon.  Of course, there are a lot of books that are cheap on Amazon, and I don't necessarily want to buy them.  But Morris has been cited so often in some of the books about Nixon that I have read, that I just have to give him a read.

A while back, I was reading a New York Times' review of Irwin Gellman's book about Richard Nixon's early political career, entitled The Contender, and the review praised Morris for his eloquence.  Personally, I find that I'll have to get used to Morris' writing-style.  As I look through the book, however, I have a hunch that I will enjoy reading it.  What stands out most to me is Morris' extensive research (which he gained through interviews and other sources), as well as his attention to detail.  While Morris will undoubtedly cover ground that I have already read in other books, I believe that I will learn things about Nixon from Morris' book that I have not learned from other sources.

Morris' discussion of events prior to Nixon's life also impressed me.  It gives me a cozy feeling when Morris goes into aspects of the history of the state of California, as well as discusses Quakerism and Richard Nixon's grandparents.  I do not entirely know what effect Morris believes these factors had on Richard Nixon himself, but I found something on the inside jacket of the book to be intriguing: "The story begins with the false promise of boomtime California during the early days of the century.  The second son of a Quaker family beset by tragedies large and small, Richard Nixon is first seen as the earnest boy pledged to success in a small town riven by hypocrisy and class division."  Reading this reminded me of Stephen King's IT in that the passage seemed to be implying that a town could have a certain character, if you will.

Something else that stood out to me was the quote that introduced the book.  Morris quotes Nixon's grandmother, Almira Burdg Milhous, who said, "If thee had gone up as thee came down, thee would have come down as thee went up."  I have to really ponder this to understand what Morris is getting at when he introduces the book with this quote.  Morris' book is essentially about how Nixon went up----his rise as a politician.  My impression from reading others is that Morris' book will be rather critical of Nixon: it will present Nixon as ambitious, as one who did not hesitate to destroy others, even as shady.  Morris may believe that these character flaws would contribute to Nixon's downfall in Watergate.  Perhaps Morris' point is that, had Nixon started his political career with the sort of humility that he had attained in the aftermath of Watergate, his outcome would not have been as bad.  But that's just my guess.

I'm not entirely sure how I will proceed in terms of my write-ups on this book.  I don't really want to get into the weeds of Nixon's 1946 congressional race, the Hiss case, Nixon's 1950 Senate race, what Nixon did and did not do at the 1952 Republican National Convention, and the fund, comparing what Morris says with what other authors have said.  I may do some of that, but I don't want it to turn out to be a consuming research project.  I could just write about the passages that stood out to me, whether or not that allows my posts to capture the essence of Morris' arguments.  In any case, we'll see how my posts turn out!

Charlene's Story

In my latest reading of People of the Lie: The Hope for Healing Human Evil, M. Scott Peck talked about Charlene.  Charlene was a lady in her thirties who played by her own set of rules, regardless of how that affected others.  She played by her own set of rules when she was in college, which meant that she did not fulfill assignments in the way that they were assigned.  The same went with the jobs that she had.  Moreover, she wanted Dr. Peck sexually, even though he told her that this was inappropriate because he was responsible for her growth as a human being, and a sexual relationship with him would hinder that.  She also came to Dr. Peck's house (which was also his workplace) even when she did not have an appointment.  For years, she came to Dr. Peck for psychotherapy, and she told him that this was for her own amusement because she liked to see how he'd react to what she said and did.

Charlene appeared to be fearless, in the sense that she was not afraid when she started a new job, but Peck concluded that this was because she played by her own rules anyway, so, of course, she wouldn't care whether she was successfully meeting others' demands or expectations.  But Peck speculated that she must have a great deal of fear: she desires control, and that's why she seeks to dominate situations.
She was in a church for a while, even in a position in which she taught Christian doctrine, but eventually she left Christianity and joined a cult.  Peck asked her what Christianity says the goal of life is, and she replied that it's to glorify God.  But she didn't care for that doctrine because she wondered where the room for her was in that.

One day, she came to her therapy session, behaved herself, and then remarked that this was her last session, and she was simply behaving herself to show Dr. Peck that she could.  Dr. Peck was flabbergasted and felt like a failure.

Peck says that he speculated that at least part of her problem was Oedipal.  I won't go into the details of that, but, essentially, in Peck's description, many kids at a young age go through the Oedipus complex and come to learn and accept that they can't have their cake and eat it, too.  But Charlene did not go through that stage because her parents really were not there for her when she was growing up.  Consequently, she retained a belief that she could live by her own set of rules, that she could have her cake and eat it, too.
Looking back, Peck says that he wished that he simply recognized when he was treating her that Charlene was evil.  This was why Charlene gave one of Peck's other patients the creeps whenever Charlene went through the waiting room!  At some point in his conversation with Charlene, they talk about exorcism.  An issue that comes up in this book is the source of evil.  Is it a medical condition?  There is another person whom Peck discusses, a lady named Sarah, who continually put down her husband, and there was a time when she was speaking to Peck that she did not manifest a continuous stream of thought.  Peck speculated that she may have had mild schizophrenia.  Is there a biological cause for evil?  Is evil due to poor nurture?  Or are there times when it's due to demons?

Peck does not think that Charlene was thoroughly evil.  She did, after all, refrain from getting married and having children.  Had she gotten married and had kids, Peck speculates, she would have been an evil mother like Mrs. R., and an evil wife like Sarah, in that her narcissism and desire for her own amusement would have harmed the lives of others.  But, through her avoidance of marriage and motherhood, she did not allow herself to do harm within a family context.

I thought about Leland Gaunt in Stephen King's Needful Things when I was reading about Charlene.  Gaunt liked to set people against each other for his own amusement.  Charlene didn't go that far, but, like the other "evil" people Peck discusses, she was narcissistic.  I don't think that it's so wrong to be an individual, to be creative, to be unique.  What the herd wants me to do is not right just because the herd is expressing its exalted viewpoint, and heaven forbid that I should disagree with the herd.  But I should not take these thoughts in the direction of narcissism.  If I'm working on a team, for example, then I should be a team-player.  If my boss wants me to do a job, I should do it, for I'm there to serve the company, not to fulfill whatever I may desire at the moment. 

Peace Is Not Avoidance

The topic at church this morning was peace, meaning inner peace.  The pastor in his sermon was saying that peace is not people avoiding unpleasant situations.  That reminded me of a sermon that Martin Luther King, Jr. gave, which is in his book, Strength to Love: that it's easy for people to have peace when they have lots of money in their pocket, but that God's peace gets people through tough situations.  When King received a death threat, for example, he prayed to God, and he felt a sense of peace.

I'm not sure what to say about all of this.  I actually am the type of person who likes to avoid unpleasant situations.  I don't like crisis.  I can identify with what one of the characters in Stephen King's Lisey's Story asked his wife: Are things the same?  And, to be honest, at least at this time in my life, I don't feel compelled to prove to people that I have inner peace----that I feel a-OK in horrible situations.  When people have remarked to me that I look calm in a crisis, I don't use that as an opportunity to witness.  Sometimes, I'm calm in a crisis because I can't do anything to solve it, and so all I can do it wait and see what happens.  I do admit, though, that prayer gets me through----at least it puts my mind at some rest while I am waiting.  But prayer hasn't made me perfect, not by a long shot.  I'm still fearful of unpleasant situations. 

Sweet to Hear

I finished Stephen King’s Needful Things. I’ll use as my starting point a passage on page 641: “Alan found himself remembering something else—-something his grandmother used to tell him when he was small: The devil’s voice is sweet to hear.”

That fits Leland Gaunt, the antagonist of the book. He comes across as a warm, urbane, compassionate man, at least when he’s not pushing people to pay up! Nettie ordinarily did not come out of her shell for people, but she really took to Leland Gaunt. And, at least on the surface, Gaunt appears to be doing some good for people. He sells Polly Chalmers an amulet that significantly lessens the pain of her arthritis. He sells Miss Ratcliffe a piece of Noah’s ark (or so it appears), which brings her inner peace and religious joy whenever she touches it.

In some cases, even the good that Gaunt does is tainted. Polly’s amulet makes her arthritic pain subside because it contains a spider that is feeding on her toxins and growing as a result. Miss Ratcliffe feels better whenever she touches the relic from Noah’s ark, but she does not want to share the relic with her boyfriend, whom she thinks is not spiritually mature enough to appreciate it. And so she’s both selfish and also spiritually snobbish.

What really makes Gaunt evil, however, is the deeds that he requires people to do to get their needful thing from his store. These deeds turn people in the community against each other. Often, Gaunt pretends to commiserate with people who have been hurt (usually, unknown to them, as a result to events that he himself set into motion), but this is only so he can encourage them to take revenge. He sells them special guns, or he encourages Danforth Keeton to get dynamite in order to blow up the town.

In many cases, people who have been hurt are so focused on their anger and getting revenge that they neglect other things. When Gaunt persuades Alan that Ace Merrill was the one who killed Alan’s wife and son, Alan (the sheriff) forgets that his town is in chaos, and he forgets the people whom he loves and who love him (such as Polly). He is wearing blinders, and his entire focus is on his anger. Sometimes, in cases such as this, there are voices that try to dissuade people from believing Gaunt’s lies, and they take the shape of people who have died. They may be from ghosts, or perhaps people are simply thinking thoughts while using the voices of certain dead folks. In Polly’s head is the voice of her late aunt, who was a source of practical wisdom to her, and this voice leads Polly to ask if the Alan she knows is really capable of doing what Gaunt has portrayed him as doing (namely, Gaunt manufactured a letter from a child welfare office saying that Alan was snooping around in Polly’s past). In Alan’s head is the voice of Brian, Gaunt’s first customer in Castle Rock who committed suicide in sorrow over the part he played in setting disastrous events into motion, at Gaunt’s instigation. The voice of Brian essentially tells Alan not to believe Gaunt’s lies.

Gaunt can be a fairly decent liar, but his lies are sometimes flawed. Lies in general are flawed because they’re untrue, but what I’m saying is this: A good liar can make a lie at least look real—-as something that has a degree of logic, inner consistency, and accordance with facts. Gaunt is able to manufacture things that, on the surface, look real. He’s able to manufacture a letter from a child welfare office saying that Alan is snooping around in Polly’s past. He can manufacture photographs—-as he does when he makes a fake photo of Miss Ratcliffe’s boyfriend, Lester, cheating on her in a bar. He can simulate events on a video, as when he shows Alan a video of Alan’s wife and son dying in a car accident due to Ace Merrill.

Gaunt has this talent, and he knows enough about people to realize what lies he can tell them that will really push their buttons. But there are indications that Gaunt doesn’t always think things through. For example, in the video that Alan saw, Alan’s wife is wearing her seatbelt, even though it was established after the accident that she was not wearing her seatbelt when the accident occurred. When Gaunt has Hugh Priest kill Nettie’s dog and leave a note making it look like Wilma did the dastardly deed, Gaunt apparently does not consider that the authorities will be able to compare the handwriting on the note with Wilma’s handwriting and see that they differ, or that they’ll notice that Hugh’s bloody fingerprints on Nettie’s door do not match Wilma’s, or that they’ll take into consideration the timing of events. Why didn’t Gaunt use his manufacturing talent in these cases? He could have produced notes in Wilma’s handwriting, for example! Gaunt either didn’t think things completely through, or certain things simply did not occur to him. (I initially thought that Gaunt may be playing games with Alan and the other authorities, as if Gaunt wants for Alan to figure out that Gaunt is behind the events; but I don’t think that’s true, for Gaunt just wants Alan to get off his case.)

To return to what Alan’s grandmother said about the devil’s voice being pleasing, I don’t think that this has to mean that every pleasing voice is from the devil. Some Christians seem to think that we should dismiss as Satanic any voice that differs from their depiction of God as an ogre, or that encourages us to feel good about ourselves. I disagree with that approach. But I think that it’s necessary to dismiss voices that encourage us to hate, or to seek revenge. And it’s good to hear another perspective from people—-to shed light on issues we may not have considered, to encourage us to see even those whom we hate as human beings, or to focus our attention away from our hate and onto our role in facilitating the general well-being of humanity.

The Seventh-Day Adventists

For my write-up today on Stephen King’s Needful Things, I’ll use as my starting-point a statement on page 608:

“Babs and her husband were, after all, Seventh-Day Adventists, and as far as she was concerned, the Catholics and the Baptists deserved just what they got…”

The context of this passage is the feud between the Catholics and the Baptists over a Casino Night that the Catholic church is hosting, and yet I must note that the Baptist minister has other issues with Catholicism as well, such as Mariology (which many Catholics would say that he misunderstands). Babs is doing a prank that will exasperate that conflict because that is part of her payment to Leland Gaunt for a “needful thing” that he is selling her. And she does not care that she is exasperating the conflict, for she, as a Seventh-Day Adventist, does not like Baptists or Catholics.

I must emphasize that this is the character Babs’ particular Seventh-Day Adventist view, and it does not reflect how all or even most Seventh-Day Adventists see the world. In my own experience of Seventh-Day Adventism, the general belief is that the Roman Catholic Church is the Antichrist, that Sunday-observance is the mark of the Beast, and that the evil second beast in Revelation 13 represents the United States imposing a National Sunday Law. The upside to this view is that Seventh-Day Adventism opposes legal attempts to shove religion down people’s throats, plus it firmly supports freedom of religion. The downside to the view is that it influences some Seventh-Day Adventists to look down on Catholics and Sunday-observing Protestants, as if they are some sort of threat. I remember when I told a Catholic priest that I attend a Seventh-Day Adventist church, and he replied, “Oh, well, I’m surprised you’re even shaking my hand!”

Even here, however, I can’t speak in absolutes. There are many Adventists who believe that they as Christians should love everybody, regardless of what they believe. Ellen White acknowledged that there could be true Christians even in the Catholic church (which is rather condescending, but it’s a step up from saying no Catholic is saved). And I’m not sure if every single Adventist takes Adventist eschatology seriously. I went to places where that eschatology was taken seriously, but I wonder if that is the case with every Adventist church.

Company When Watching Stuff; the Cleansed Zealot

I have two items from yesterday’s reading of Stephen King’s Needful Things:

1. Eleven-year-old Brian Rusk committed suicide because he felt guilty about setting into motion a chain of events that took two people’s lives, all to get a baseball card from Leland Gaunt. Sheriff Alan Pangborn is questioning Brian’s little brother, Sean, at the hospital. Sean tells Alan that he and Brian saw the movie Young Guns on the VCR, and they both enjoyed it. Sean says they were both looking forward to seeing Young Guns II once it came out on video, but now Brian won’t be able to see it because he’s dead. Sean says that he’ll now have to watch the movie by himself, and that won’t be any fun because he won’t be able to hear Brian’s “stupid jokes” (page 586).

Do I like to watch TV or movies by myself, or with other people? It depends. I have had rewarding experiences watching things with other people. I like making stupid jokes with my brother while watching stuff. It’s also a rewarding experience when I share something that I enjoy with my Mom and her husband, and they also end up enjoying it—-such as The West Wing, Dexter, and The Dead Zone.

But there are other times when I prefer to watch things alone because then I feel free to have my own reactions, rather than trying to fit in and becoming resentful when people don’t find funny or moving what I find funny or moving. But when I’m in a place where I feel accepted, I don’t care as much if others have the same reactions that I do. For example, I can laugh at certain scenes of Family Guy while others don’t, or others can laugh at things that I don’t. It’s good when I’m in a group where I can be myself and have my own reactions, rather than worrying about whether or not I’m fitting in.

2. In Needful Things, there is a feud between the local Baptist preacher, William Rose, and the Catholic priest, John Brigham. One of their points of contention is a Casino Night that the Catholic church is holding, which Rose thinks is gambling. I’ll share two passages about that.

Lester Pratt goes to Rose’s church, but he’s having a hard time thinking about Rose’s campaign against Casino Night because he has his own problems: he thinks that his girlfriend is cheating on him. On page 473, we read that Lester initially was “more than ready to ring a few sets of Catholic chimes, but now the entire affair seemed distant and rather childish”, for “Who really cared if the Catholics gambled for play money and gave away a few new tires and kitchen appliances?”

On page 601, however, we read aspects of William Rose’s life-story that explain why he is so passionate in opposing Casino Night: “[Father Brigham] had known his Baptist counterpart would not like the idea of Casino Nite, but he did not understand how deeply the concept of church-supported gaming enraged and offended the Baptist preacher. He did not know that Steamboat Willie’s father had been a compulsive gambler who had abandoned the family on many occasions when the gambling fever took him, or that the man had finally shot himself in the back room of a dance-hall after a losing night at craps. And the unlovely truth about Father Brigham was this: it probably would not have made any difference to him even if he had known.”

The passage about Rose reminded me of several things. I thought about the punctilious Inspector Javert in Les Meserables, who became a firm absolutist on law-and-order because of his own hard upbringing when he was a child. I think of the passage in C.S. Lewis’ Reflections on the Psalms, in which Lewis says that becoming a Christian can be a double-edged sword, for it can lead a person to become loving, compassionate, and understanding, but it can also lead one to become a person who takes good and evil seriously and thus becomes an inquisitor! I thought of a true story I heard about a woman who is in a hyper-fundamentalist cult-group, and she even frowns on little white lies (i.e., she doesn’t want people to tell others she’s not at home when she is). But her life was morally loose before she entered the group, and now she has gone the other extreme of being morally punctilious in every detail, and of judging those who are not as conscientious as she.

Jesus says in Matthew 23:15 (in the King James Version): “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is made, ye make him twofold more the child of hell than yourselves.” Religion can make people rather judgmental and unbearable. I used to pray for non-Christians I know, that they might become saved. Nowadays, while I do hope that they come to know that God loves them, I’m not sure if I’d be comfortable around them if they were evangelical Christians—-with a narrow, judgmental, cut-and-dry attitude on the world and how God works.

I can understand coming from a life where one feels dirty, and desiring to be clean. But I have problems when that desire becomes judgmental towards others, or hyper-zealous, or in-your-face fanatical—-at least when I have to be around it. I think it’s refreshing when people can become Christians and remain regular folks—-like Lester was when he saw how childish the crusade against Casino Night was. There’s something to be said for recognizing and abhorring sin and its damaging effects, but there’s also something to be said for a live-and-let-live attitude.

Epistemology and Funerals

I read a lot of Stephen King’s Needful Things yesterday. I have two items:

1. There were a couple of passages on pages 405-406 that stood out to me, a wannabe academic. Sheriff Alan Pangborn and Henry Payton of the Maine state police are comparing notes on the case of Nettie Cobb and Wilma Jerzyck. On the surface, the case looks rather cut-and-dry: Wilma killed Nettie’s dog, Nettie then retaliated by trashing Wilma’s house with rocks, and the two then met in the street and killed each other. We the readers know that this is not true, however, for we realize that Leland Gaunt, the owner of the new shop in town, had others do these dirty deeds in exchange for something that they wanted from Gaunt’s store. Brian Rusk wanted a Sandy Koufax baseball card that Gaunt was selling, and part of Brian’s payment to Gaunt was trashing Wilma’s house. Hugh Priest desired a fox-tail, and his payment to Gaunt was killing Nettie’s dog. But Gaunt wants for Nettie and Wilma to blame each other, for he likes to instigate conflict and exasperate feuds for his own personal amusement.

At times, Alan and Henry seem to accept the standard narrative—-that Wilma killed Nettie’s dog and that Nettie trashed Wilma’s house—-but there is a small suspicion within them that something about the standard narrative is not quite right. Things don’t add up—-such as the timing of events. I won’t go into detail on that in this post, but I will say that it was interesting to read, even if I did not understand every detail of their reasoning. What I want to highlight are a couple of passages that occur within the context of Alan and Henry hashing out ideas and scenarios.

On page 405, we read: “[Alan] was thinking of the Agatha Christie novels which [his late wife] Annie had read by the dozen. In those, it seemed there was always some doddering village doctor who was more than willing to set the time of death between 4:30 p.m. and quarter past five. After almost twenty years as a law-enforcement officer, Alan knew a more realistic response to the time-of-death question was ‘Sometime last week. Maybe.’”

On page 406, Henry tells Alan that the bloody fingerprints in Nettie’s house of the one who killed her dog do not match Wilma’s fingerprints or correspond with Wilma’s small hands. But Henry cannot use that information in court because the fingerprints in Nettie’s house are only partial. Henry eloquently says: “…if I testified in court on something like that, the defense would chew me a new asshole. But since we’re sitting at the bullshit table, so to speak—-they’re nothing alike.”

I liked these passages because they illustrate how hard it is to know things exactly, and yet it may be productive to throw out some ideas for consideration. Even if those ideas do not exactly follow a high standard of logic and evidence, maybe they can lead somewhere, or generate new questions, or point out new angles, or highlight important issues. As a wannabe academic in the humanities, there are plenty of things that I am reluctant to say that I know for certain. But it’s good to read and hear different ideas. Does that mean that I’m saying that everything is speculation and so people can pick whatever narrative they prefer? Not really, for evidence is still important. Even when Henry and Alan were speculating, they were appealing to some evidence, or they were raising questions about the standard narrative on the basis of facts. But there are cases in which, even with evidence to work with, we cannot arrive at definitive answers, and so the best we can do is propose different scenarios or ideas. I think of the scholarly attempts to define and to account for Paul’s view on the Torah. I wouldn’t lay down my life on any of these scholarly constructions being true. But they are interesting and plausible ways to emplot and account for the evidence (or, actually, some ways are more plausible than others), and so perhaps they can help me to have a conception of my own when it comes to Paul’s approach to the Torah.

2. Wilma and Nettie had separate funerals. Wilma’s funeral was at her Catholic church, and many cars were lining up outside of the church for that event, as people came for Wilma’s husband, Peter, “if not for his dead wife” (page 435). But only five people attended Nettie’s funeral: her friend and employer Polly, Sheriff Alan Pangborn, Deputy Norris Ridgewick, Rosalie Drake, and old Lenny Partidge. Lenny went to all funerals except for Catholic ones, but Polly and Alan went because they cared for Nettie. The preacher at Nettie’s funeral was Tom Killingworth, a Methodist, and he knew Nettie when she was at Juniper Hill (an insane asylum), for he conducted services there. On page 434, the narrator sums up the nature of Tom’s homily: “The homily was brief and warm, full of reference to the Nettie Cobb this man had known, a woman who had been slowly and bravely coming out of the shadows of insanity, a woman who had taken the courageous decision to try to treat once more with the world that had hurt her so badly.”

This funeral somewhat reminded me of the funeral for Paul in the second season of Dexter. Paul was a heroine addict who abused his wife, and yet he was nice to his children, and they motivated him to try to change. At his funeral, only four people showed up: Dexter, Paul’s ex-wife Rita, and Paul’s two children Cody and Astor. But the pastor gave a beautiful homily about how Paul may have had his struggles with darkness, and yet his children brought out the good in him. In my opinion, that’s how funerals should be: highlighting the good that people have done. And it doesn’t matter if many people show up to the funeral or only a few. Each life is valuable, whether or not anyone attends a person’s funeral. And yet it’s good when people at least have one person who cares for them enough to show up.

Friendship, Mr. Gaunt's Way, Christian Sub-Cultures, Fine Days

Yesterday, I got a lot of reading done of Stephen King's Needful Things. Here are four passages that stood out to me, along with my comments:

1. On page 302, we read the following about Alan:

"He reached the corner of Main and Laurel, signalled a left turn, then halted in the middle of the intersection and turned right instead. To hell with going home. That was a cold and empty place...There were too many closed doors and too many memories lurking behind them in that house. On the other side of town there was a live woman who might need someone quite badly just now. Almost as badly, perhaps, as this live man needed her."

Alan is going to Polly's place so that he can comfort her after the death of her friend, Nettie, and also because he doesn't want to go back to his empty house, which has a lot of memories lurking there from his late wife and son. That reminded me of a couple of things. First of all, I remember when I was in college, and I wasn't really in the mood to be pouring over every last detail of my homework. I decided to go hang out with my friends, for that was fun. In time, the opposite came to be true, for I preferred the solitude of reading and of academic accomplishments over being with people, some of whom ridiculed or insulted me. But there was a time when I could prefer the company of others over being alone, which felt dark and joyless. Second, I thought of Romans 1:11-12, where Paul states (according to the KJV): "For I long to see you, that I may impart unto you some spiritual gift, to the end ye may be established; That is, that I may be comforted together with you by the mutual faith both of you and me." Paul wanted to go to Rome to help the Roman Christians, but then he realized that such a visit would comfort and support him, as well."

2. On pages 393-394, Leland Gaunt says to drug-dealer Ace Merrill, whom he has hired (and who is also a villain in Stand by Me): "You'll find that things go more smoothly for you, Ace, if you look at working for me the way you would look at serving in the Army. There are three ways of doing things for you now----the right way, the wrong way, and Mr. Gaunt's way. If you always opt for the third choice, trouble will never find you."

That's true in many cases throughout this book. Nettie Cobb is posting citations in Danforth Keeton's home, and Gaunt gives her telepathic instructions on how she can safely escape right before Danforth returns to his house. Basically, she needs to leave the house calmly, in a manner that does not draw attention. Brian Rusk threw stones at Wilma Jerzyck's house, and he is afraid that the police will find out that he did that. But Gaunt reassures him and offers him valid reasons that this will not happen. Gaunt wants Ace to transport illegal guns from Boston to Castle Rock, and he assures Ace that the police will not stop him. Sure enough, the trip goes smoothly for Ace, for the police do not even see the car that Ace is riding when it passes them. Gaunt takes care of people and assuages their fears, but only so long as he needs them. He has no moral compunctions about sacrificing people for his own amusement. Nettie and Wilma kill each other, for instance, because Nettie thinks that Wilma killed Nettie's dog, and Wilma thinks that Nettie trashed Wilma's house, when actually somebody else did those things, under the instigation of Gaunt, who is looking for amusement.

But the passage stood out to me because I feel good when my worries are assuaged, especially since I am someone who can get stressed out by every conceivable loose-end that enters my mind. I also like the promise that following a certain path will make my life less complicated, even though, of course, everybody has problems, including those who live right.

3. Page 398: "Lester went along [with his friends to tent revivals] mostly to be friendly, and because he always liked to listen to some good preaching and do some singing after an exhilerating afternoon of head-knocking and body-blocking. It was the best way of cooling down he knew."

I never really fit into the "jock Christian" sub-culture. But, come to think of it, I never fit into the intellectual Christian sub-culture, either. In terms of which one I fit into more, I'm not sure. The former tended to simplify issues, but at least (on some level) it respected me when I made objections. The latter saw more nuance in issues but trivialized or pompously ridiculed my objections. But I cannot absolutize or generalize, here.

4. Page 399: "Every day was a fine day when you'd given your heart to Jesus, but some days were finer than others."

Lester Pratt thinks this in the book. I like the idea of believing in Jesus leading to joy, and, even when it does not totally, the worse days now being better than our best days before we became Christians (or entered recovery, or embraced some sort of golden path). It would be nice if each day were fine, and some days were even finer.

Danforth, Myrtle, and Empathy

For my write-up today on Stephen King's Needful Things, I'll write some about Myrtle Keeton.

In my post here, I wrote about Danforth Keeton and how he is ordinarily verbally abusive to his wife, Myrtle, but he is nice to her when things are going his way----since he now has a device that helps him to predict the outcome of horse races. But things change for Danforth, for, when he comes home after a pleasant day with his wife, he sees posted around his house a bunch of obnoxious citations, which he believes were put there by a deputy. Danforth's mood changes. He wants to be alone in his study. When his wife tries to check on him, he replies, "Leave me alone! Can't you leave me alone, you stupid bitch?" The "rage and unbridled hate in his voice" hurt Myrtle's feelings. Often, she talks to her dolls to feel better after her husband berates her, since she doesn't really have a human being she can talk to. But now her misery is filling her throat and blocking her breathing. She sobs for herself, but she is also worried about her husband and his sudden change in mood, especially after such a pleasant day.

I can identify with Danforth and Myrtle. Often, when I feel bad, I just want to be left alone. I don't want to be quizzed about how I am feeling. I don't want to be pressured to socialize. I just want solitude. But, like Myrtle, I also want for people to be pleasant around me. I don't like to be lashed out at, especially when I am trying to help. And I try to cope, as Myrtle does, not so much by talking to a doll, but through prayer. But Myrtle wants a human being to whom she could communicate her problems----someone who would make her feel valued and less alone, especially after her husband is dissatisfied with her efforts to help and berates her as stupid. I think that the lesson for me here is to try to see things from the other person's perspective: When I feel like a Danforth, I should remember what it's like to be a Myrtle, and I should communicate my desire to be alone in a tactful manner. When I feel like a Myrtle, I should remember what it's like to be a Danforth and give that person some space.

Cumulative Benefits, and Then Some Musings

On pages 282-283 of Stephen King’s Needful Things, Leland Gaunt tells Polly Chalmers the following about an azka on a necklace that he is selling to her in order to treat her arthritis:

“You shouldn’t take it off, not even in the shower…There’s no need to. The ball is real silver, and won’t rust. [T]he beneficial effect of the azka is cumulative. The wearer is a little better today, a little better tomorrow, and so on…If the azka is removed, however, the wearer reverts to his or her former painful state not slowly but at once, and then has to wait for days or perhaps weeks to regain the lost ground once the azka is put back on.”

Leland Gaunt is evil, and his goal is most likely to get Polly addicted to the azka so that she will do whatever he wants in order to keep it. But his presentation of the azka‘s healing effects as cumulative intrigues me because it makes me think about other issues. For example, suppose there is an alcoholic who has been in recovery for years and he relapses. Does that invalidate his learning and his growth prior to the relapse? Many would say that the alcoholic may find himself picking up right where he left off, in terms of the quantity of his drinking. That resembles what Leland Gaunt says happens when the azka comes off: a person goes right back to where he was before. At the same time, many would also say that recovery has become such a part of the alcoholic, that he may not be able to escape its positive effects even when he relapses. The things that he has learned in recovery will ruin his high, many have stated. In this scenario, the alcoholic may not have applied the principles of recovery thoroughly or correctly, but the wisdom and growth that he accumulated in recovery are not lost to him once he resumes drinking: they’re still a part of him. But, in order to continue to learn and to grow on the recovery path, he needs to get back into recovery.

Janet Oberholtzer talks about something similar in her post on Rachel Held Evans’ blog: Janet Oberholtzer: Pushing Through a Bad Run. Janet is comparing running to her spiritual life. Her running when she did not feel like running (because it was painful and tiring, and the weather was bad) prepared her for a later run that was good—-when she felt stronger and the day was beautiful. But what would have happened had she quit when the going got tough? Would she have had that later good run? The benefits of physical exercise are cumulative: you need to keep exercising in order to experience its benefits and to progress, and the benefits do not last if you stop exercising. Then, you have to regain lost ground, as Leland Gaunt said about the azka. And there are other fields in which “Use it or lose it” is a principle.

In terms of Janet’s spiritual life, Janet says that she’s currently in a state in which she does not like to read her Bible, listen to sermons, or go to seminars. She thinks that she’s in a bad spiritual run. She says: “I realize that to give up on faith during this funk would not be wise. Though I still have bad running days, my running has been on a gradual incline over the past few years, which came about through practice and by educating myself through running books, blogs and seminars. Shouldn’t I give my spirit the same treatment? Maybe I need to practice different spiritual techniques to find one that works best for me. Maybe finding new ways to use my slacking spiritual muscles would help me. Is there some type of beep that could signal between times to challenge and times to energize my spirit?”

In my case, I concluded that sticking with certain things was unhealthy for me, and, by “certain things”, I mean listening to abusive sermons and accepting whatever they say as if they’re “Thus saith the Lord”s. I still listen to sermons and read my Bible, but I don’t feel compelled to accept them if I find that they are unhealthy for me—-if they make me feel like garbage about myself, or if they mandate that I do something that I feel unable or ill-equipped to do at this stage of my life. I could have said to myself that I should stick with these things and then I would progress and life would get easier, and those things would come to help me—-as if the years of Bible study and listening to sermons would finally pay off. But, in my opinion, there came a point where I had to ask: Where’s the evidence that these things are even helping me to progress in the first place? Maybe they’re unhealthy, or the way that I’m interpreting or applying them is unhealthy.

But I’m reluctant to give up completely on sermons, Bible reading, etc., for there’s always the possibility that I will hear something that will encourage me and help me to make sense of things. And perhaps God can even use some of the things that I’ve heard in the past, for I do not like to think that my past has been a waste. But I am hopefully pursuing a road that is more healthy, rather than hoping that an unhealthy road will show itself to be healthy.

Longing for Home

For my write-up today on Stephen King’s Needful Things, I will talk about a passage on page 263:

“Home, that was the thing to think about. Home and her beautiful carnival glass lampshade. Home and the Sunday Super Movie. Home and [her dog] Raider. When she was at home with the door locked, the shades pulled, the TV on, and Raider sleeping at her feet, all of this would seem like a horrible dream…”

The context of this passage is that Nettie Cobb is at Danforth Keeton’s house while he is away, and she is putting up citations throughout his house to make it look as if a deputy is harassing him. She is doing this because that is part of her payment to Leland Gaunt for a lampshade that she bought from him, and Gaunt’s goal is to divide the community. But Danforth is about to return to his home, and Nettie does not want for him to see her there!

I identified somewhat with what Nettie was thinking about home—-as a place of refuge and escape. Granted, I do not trespass into other people’s houses, but there have been situations that have made me long to go home—-to my comfort zone, where I can watch TV, or read, or pet pets. Such situations have included social events, or school. Looking forward to going home can make those situations more bearable. But, sometimes, the situations can go so badly that they pollute my rest and peace at home. In those cases, I need to pray after I get home, until my mind returns to a point of stability.

In Good Times, and Bad Times

In my reading last night of Stephen King’s Needful Things, Danforth Keeton is nice to his wife, for a change. Ordinarily, he is verbally abusive towards her, as he harshly berates her whenever things don’t go his way. But he’s happy right now because he got from Leland Gaunt a device that helps him to predict winners in horse-races.

It can be a challenge to be nice to people (especially family) when one is in a bad mood, or when things are not going one’s way. But there are many people who manage to do it. What is their secret?

Worth the Effort

On page 245 of Stephen King’s Needful Things, we read:

“He had discovered another large fact about possessions and the peculiar psychological state they induce: the more one has to go through because of something one owns, the more one wants to keep that thing.”

I’m not really in the mood right now to provide the context for this passage, but I’ll comment on the passage’s concept. Some possessions may not be worth the effort, if keeping them entails a lot of effort. But there are plenty of things that are worthwhile and do not come cheaply. And I’m not just speaking monetarily. Getting a job can be a difficult process, for God does not always drop a job opportunity into our laps. Then there are other things worth fighting for, such as peace of mind.

Empathy for People and Sympathy for Animals

In Stephen King’s Needful Things, a supernatural shopkeeper named Leland Gaunt sells things to people in exchange for a prank. Hugh Priest is the town alcoholic, and Gaunt sells him a fox-tail but requires him to kill Nettie Cobb’s dog and to make it look like Wilma Jerzyck killed him. Nettie and Wilma are feuding, and Gaunt (for some malevolent purpose) is trying to exacerbate that tension. On page 239, we read Hugh’s initial reaction to what he had done:

“Hugh stood up, his heart thumping heavily. He suddenly felt very bad about what he had done—-almost ill. Maybe she was crazy, maybe not, but she was alone in the world, and he had killed what was probably her only…friend.”

Alcoholics are often stereotyped as very selfish, but Hugh manages to have a sense of empathy for Nettie after doing his dastardly deed.

Empathy for people does not always come easy for me, perhaps because I do not feel that many people like me, and so I have a hard time caring for them. Or perhaps my empathy depends on the situation—-if I have experienced something that someone else has experienced, or if I have a fairly decent relationship with that person, or other factors. I think that it’s important for me to cultivate and to encourage empathy within myself—-whether the person suffering likes me or not, or would like me or not. Hugh did not have a good relationship with Nettie, and he did not even particularly like her. But he could imagine how painful it would be to be alone in the world—-without family—-and that led him to empathize and to sympathize with Nettie, and to hate himself for killing her only friend.

This scene also reminds me of how much I hate for people to kill or to hurt animals. This is probably because I like animals better than I like most people (since I find animals more accepting), but I think it’s also because animals strike me as so innocent, and (in many cases) as creatures simply trying to get by in the world. In the scene in Needful Things, the dog that Hugh kills is so trusting.

Polly's Lessons

For my write-up today on Stephen King’s Needful Things, I will focus on Polly Chalmer’s background.

Polly Chalmers had a baby out of wedlock, whom she named Kelton, and she became alienated from her parents on account of that. As the book narrates, her parents said things that tore away the “last tenuous bridge” between them and their daughter. But Polly still communicated with her parents via mail, for she felt that this interaction was less acrimonious than in-person interaction. Right when Polly had finally qualified to receive state assistance, Polly’s child died in a fire while Polly was away at work, and that is a secret that Polly has been keeping from others (including her significant other, Alan, who knows that she is keeping a secret but is giving her the time and the space to reveal that secret to him in her good time). But Polly’s parents also pass on—-her father due to cancer, and her mother due to a heart attack. At her parents’ funeral, Polly’s eighty-eight year-old Aunt Evvie tells Polly: “Baby Kelton’s dead…but you’re not…So what are you going to do about it?” Aunt Evvie exhorts Polly to let go of the ghosts of the past and to make a life for herself. At the same time, while Aunt Evvie encourages Polly to feel free to go to new places, Aunt Evvie thinks that Polly will ultimately return to her hometown of Castle Rock and settle there, for Aunt Evvie feels that Polly was made for Castle Rock.

There’s a lot there—-about communicating and keeping in touch with people in a manner in which one is most comfortable, of being thankful to be alive and taking advantage of the life that one has, and of being made for a specific place, but returning there after seeing the world. For the first issue, I like to communicate online, since I feel rather awkward in person. At the same time, it’s not always easy for me to come up with things to say online. I can’t just let the other person talk, as I can in person. For the second issue, I should definitely enjoy the life that I have rather than beating myself up over anything that happened in the past. I should learn from the past, but I shouldn’t allow the past to hinder my enjoyment of my life today. For the third issue, I’ve lived in different places. I can’t say that I was “made” for a specific place, though, including my hometown in Indiana. Actually, I’d prefer not to live in the town where I grew up—-though, of course, it’s nice to visit my family there.

Danforth Keeton's Addiction

For my write-up today on Stephen King’s Needful Things, I will talk about Danforth “Buster” Keeton. Danforth is a town selectman who has developed a gambling problem, and he’s getting on the radar of the authorities because he has been embezzling money on account of his gambling problem. Danforth does not appear to acknowledge his own role in his difficulties, however, for he blames his “persecutors” rather than himself. Danforth did not always have a gambling problem. He was student council President in high school, and he made straight A’s at a business college. He was responsible, he was organized, and he was going somewhere. But when the head selectman, Steve Frazier, invited him to the race-track, Danforth went and got caught up in the excitement of the game and his surroundings, and he was also happy to have won some money. Danforth rarely felt as if he were a part of anything, but he now felt included in something.

There’s a lot of interesting stuff there. The narrative that I have heard from twelfth-step recoverers is that sobriety can help a person to go places—-that alcoholism is an elevator that only goes down. In a sense, that is true. Granted, as far as I know (and that is a key phrase, for there is a lot that I do not know, and I could be wrong even on this), studies do not indicate that people who don’t drink make more money than those who do drink. Some have even referred to studies in which the opposite is shown to be the case. But I do believe that alcoholics do better—-financially, socially, etc.—-when they do not drink, for drinking often does cost them relationships, money, and (in some cases) even their freedom.

The problem is that many with alcoholism or addictions feel as if they are outsiders. I’ve heard stories from real-live people about this, but, to return to the imaginary world of our novel (or, actually, Stephen King’s novel), Danforth felt empty, even though he was going somewhere professionally. Danforth was a part of things, for he was on the Board of Selectmen, and he had a wife. But he only felt like he was a part of something at the track—-and the track also appears to be the only place where he experienced excitement.

I think that recovery includes a variety of elements. A significant part of it is to try to help people with addictions to feel less like outsiders. This is attempted through recovery groups, and also through the twelve steps, which help people to identify how they have wrecked their relationships. Rather than blaming other people (as Danforth did), people with addictions take a good hard look at themselves to identify where they were at fault (which is not to say that they were necessarily the only ones at fault in their situations). People have told me that they experience happiness when they become a part of a community and deal with their personal baggage, and they gain hope when they get advice on how to deal and to cope with the challenges of life.

One factor in the lives of many addicts is a craving for drama and excitement (which was what Danforth sought at the race track). I do not know how that problem is addressed in every case, but I do know that many recovering addicts get to the point where they are tired of drama: they simply want for life to run smoothly, and, for them, that is more likely to happen when they are sober.

On a related note, I really liked the latest episode of Desperate Housewives. Carlos is developing a drinking problem, and that is causing him to miss meetings at work. When a rich client learns that Carlos has a drinking problem, he demands to see Carlos right away. Right when we think that the client is about to chew Carlos out, the client shows Carlos his sobriety chip and tells Carlos his story about his own recovery. The client is there to help Carlos, not to chew him out.

Upset Over Speculation, Part 2

My write-up today of Stephen King’s Needful Things will overlap with a post I wrote a few days ago (which was also about Needful Things): Upset Over Speculation. I’ll start with what Polly Chalmers says to Alan Pangborn on page 185, then I’ll give some background information for that quote:

“…there are too many maybes to support your anger. And even if the worst things you suspect are true, you’ll never know, will you?”

The background is this: Alan’s wife Annie and his son Todd died in a car accident. Annie had a brain tumor, and the pain from that could have been what caused the accident. Or Annie could have had suicidal thoughts on account of her tumor and planned in a state of temporary insanity to take down her son with her, to spare him the pain of not having a mother. In any case, Annie was not wearing her seat-belt, which was unusual for her. Was she not wearing it because she was planning to die, and the wreck was caused when she tried to remove her son’s seat-belt? Or did she simply forget to put on her seat-belt?

Alan at first blamed himself for the death of his wife and his son, for he did not spot his wife’s problem when she was alive. As sheriff, he was occupied with the events that are narrated in Stephen King’s The Dark Half. But Polly, who owned the sewing shop where Annie worked, tells Alan that he is wrong to blame himself, for she, Todd, and the doctor also didn’t recognize Annie’s problem. Eventually, Alan gets to the point where he blames Annie for her own death and the death of her son. But Polly tells Alan that this is speculative—-that he does not know that Annie set out to kill herself and Todd, that there are other possible explanations for the accident, and that there is no way that Alan even can know what actually happened. So why should be get angry over maybes that he does not know are true, and that he cannot verify one way or the other?

That’s good advice. For me, it’s easier said than done, since I find myself getting mad at the very possibility that someone might have said or done something. But what’s the point of such anger?

Placebos Would Work on Me

In Stephen King’s Needful Things, Polly Chalmers has arthritis, and she is going out with the Castle Rock sheriff, Alan Pangborn. On pages 162-163, we read the following about Polly’s thoughts regarding her arthritis and its impact on her relationship with Alan:

“She had actually taken three [pills]—-two in the morning, one in the early afternoon—-and the pain was not much better today than it had been yesterday. She was afraid that the tingle of which she had spoken [which indicates improvement in her condition] was mostly a figment of her own wistful imagination. She didn’t like lying to Alan [about her pain]; she believed that lying and love rarely went together, and never for long. But she had been on her own for a long time, and a part of her was still terrified by his relentless concern. She trusted him, but she was afraid to let him know too much. He had grown steadily more insistent about the Mayo Clinic, and she knew that, if he really understood how bad the pain was this time, he would grow more insistent still. She did not want her…hands to become the most important component of their love…and she was also afraid of what a consultation at a place like the Mayo might show. She could live with pain; she was not sure if she could live without hope.”

I can identify with some of this. In the past, there have been times when I have been reluctant to tell people about physical pain that I was experiencing, for I did not want to be hounded, nagged, or inconvenienced. I also didn’t want to go to the doctor. Some of this was because I was afraid that they’d make me worry more, and I figured that what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me. But I also dreaded the medical costs.

I have desired, though, for people I trust to tell me that I’m all right. When that happens, my physical pain usually dwindles. I think that my worrying about my pain often causes me more problems than the pain itself. Placebos would work on me!

But I’m not making an absolute statement here. There are times when pain is real and is serious, and a person then should probably see a doctor.

Propitiating the Volcano

On page 144 of Stephen King’s Needful Things, there is the following passage about Pete Jerzyck’s thoughts about his cantankerous wife, Wilma:

“He did not just live in fear of her; he lived in awe of her, as natives in certain tropical climes once supposedly lived in awe and superstitious dread of the Great God Thunder Mountain, which might brood silently over their sunny lives for years or even generations before suddenly exploding in a murderous tirade of burning lava. Such natives, whether real of hypothetical, undoubtedly had their own rituals of propitiation. These may not have helped much when the mountain awoke and cast its bolts of thunders and rivers of fire at their villages, but they surely improved everyone’s peace of mind when the mountain was quiet. Pete Jerzyck had no high rituals with which he could worship Wilma; it seemed that more prosaic measures would have to serve. Prescription drugs instead of Communion wafers, for instance.” That means that Pete put anti-depressant pills in Wilma’s coffee or tea to calm her down.

This passage about religion reminds me of what Job did in Job 1: Every day, he offered sacrifices on his sons’ behalf because he feared that they might have cursed God in their hearts, and Job sought to appease God for them, perhaps so that God would not punish them. This was before Job experienced his calamity. He was offering these sacrifices when things were going well for him and his family. He may have felt that he was keeping things as they were—-that he was covering his bases with God so that his peace and prosperity and that of his family might continue. The ritual of offering sacrifices probably gave him a peace of mind, even though I suppose one could argue that the very fact that he was making them in the first place indicated that he did not have perfect peace, for he saw God as one who would strike his loved ones dead for cursing God in their hearts.

What is interesting about the Needful Things passage is that it is acknowledged that the rituals did not prevent the eruption of the Great God Thunder Mountain, but that the rituals were a way for the natives to channel their fear when things were going well—-so that they could feel that they were at least doing their part to keep themselves safe, whatever the god ultimately decided. Otherwise, they’d be terrified on a continual basis. I can sympathize with that use of ritual—-an attempt to control the uncontrollable. And I’d be lying if I were to deny that such a mindset is somewhere in my own religious beliefs. But what I try to hold onto is that God loves me and my loved ones, whatever may happen to us, and that this present life is not all that there is.