Month: February 2020

Two of the three times we exchanged houses with John and Brenda Wright, we walked down to the Thames to see the Henley Royal Regatta.  We couldn’t resist one of the events of England’s social season, being so close by.

The second time, showers dampened the show. There were still men with striped blazers, spats, and straw hats and women with frilly frocks and showy hats, redolent with the charm of a period piece. 

A few of the ladies, carrying their strappy sandals, had to don Wellies to slog through the mud to the protection of event tents.

Some women protected their dresses with raincoats. They all took the bother of the weather in stride as they paraded along the eastern edge of the river, occasionally taking note of the sculls going by.

On our first visit, though, the sun was hot, the breeze intermittent, shade trees too few along the path. Nevertheless, we walked upriver to the start line, there to witness a display of raw human power, the physical kind.

In the two lanes sat sculls, each with eight oarsmen, who were tense, poised for the first stroke and the coxswain’s commands to follow. When the starter’s gun fired, the sixteen oarsmen created a sight, sound and sense that I can call to mind instantly, more than twenty years later. In that moment, they showed the power that can come from working together.

People of a Certain Age, don’t you have electric memories like this?

That memory came alive again when I read the book my brother gave me for Christmas, The Boys in the Boat, by Daniel James Brown. Like Joe said he felt, I didn’t want the book to end.

Brown tells the story of the 1936 crew from the University of Washington that won the gold medal for eights at the Olympic Games in Nazi Germany.  Brown uses the life of one of the crew, Joe Rantz, to spin his story, the outcome of which, of course, we already know.  Still, Brown charms us into the tale.

Brown begins each of his chapters with words from George Yeoman Pocock.  Pocock, who learned his craft downriver from Henley at Windsor, built the best boats. He was also the guru for crews, the one whose wisdom and insights motivated many oarsmen and women over the years.

I felt a connection to Pocock because Dad knew his son, Stan, also an oarsman and coach, when we lived in Seattle.  I think I remember visiting the UW boathouse. So Brown’s book brought back more memories, real or invented, for me. 

As compelling as is the story, the Pocock quotes have had significant staying power, too.  Like others who have succeeded in creating life messages out of aspects of their respective fields, George Yeoman Pocock used rowing to teach values.

“It is hard to make the boat go as fast as you want to. The enemy, of course, is the resistance of the water, as you have to displace the amount of water equal to the weight of the men and equipment, but that very water is what supports you and that very enemy is your friend. So in life: the very problems you must overcome also support you and make you stronger in overcoming them.”

“Harmony, balance, and rhythm. They’re the three things that stay with you your whole life. Without them, civilization is out of whack. And that’s why an oarsman, when he goes out in life, he can fight it, he can handle life. That’s what he gets from rowing.”

“One of the first admonitions of a good rowing coach, after the fundamentals are over, is “pull your own weight,” and the young oarsman does just that when he finds out that the boat goes better when he does.  There certainly is a social implication here.”

“It’s a great art, is rowing. It’s the finest art there is. It’s a symphony of motion. And when you’re rowing well, why it’s nearly perfection. And when you near perfection, you’re touching the Divine. It touches the you of you. Which is your soul.”

“Where is the spiritual value of rowing…? The losing of self entirely to the cooperative effort of the crew as a whole.”

I have no idea what has become of the sixteen oarsmen we watched trying to pull their own weight, displace enough water to go as fast as they could.  I’d like to think that they might have a gut-level understanding of what Pocock said.

I’d like to think that lessons like those drawn from George Yeoman Pocock are being learned by enough people these days to keep our boat moving forward as fast as it can, politics and circumstances notwithstanding, powered by people pulling their own weight giving themselves over to the cooperative benefit of the crew as a whole.

People of a Certain, Age, wouldn’t we all welcome the sight of a symphony of motion, nearing perfection, touching the Divine?

Daniel E. White

March 2, 2020

“In God We Trust” proclaims U.S. currency.  “All others pay cash,” advises the cynic in an old rejoinder.

Who Do You Trust? was a television game show from 1957-63 hosted by Johnny Carson.  I don’t remember much about the show although I think it involved married couples.  I can imagine that the set-up involved presenting contestants with situations or choices requiring that person to select the right or true option in order to win prizes.  Perhaps it presaged the popular “reality” TV of current fare.

I only recently learned, via Google, that Who Do You Trust? is the name of an album released in 2019 by Papa Roach.  I have no conjecture to offer about Mr. Roach’s song, only questions about his choice of surnames.

I was driving a two-lane road recently when I realized that every one of us on that road was in the act of trusting the others not to cross the center line or turn in front of our car abruptly or do anything that might upset the expected result that we would all stay in our lanes at reasonable speeds and distances from each other, arriving safely at our destinations.

Shortly thereafter, we boarded an airplane, bound for New Zealand, a 9-hour flight over the Pacific Ocean, How many acts of trust did it take for us to feel confident that the plane would land safely in Auckland?  Manufacturers, maintenance and mechanical personnel, pilots, flight attendants, food preparers, air traffic controllers and more; our confidence was based upon our expectation that they would all do their job well.

I’m quite comfortable trusting God in the larger sense but I don’t think the Divine services airplanes.  Trust rests in the hands of humans, too.

I read a novel recently about a young woman who, for a variety of reasons, had closed herself off to others, trusting her own judgment about the insufficiencies of others to do what she believes to be right.  I’ve known a person who had a similar suspicion about everyone else’s motives and competencies.  I wouldn’t want to live like that.

But, People of a Certain Age, do you sense, as do I, that a significant number of the people around us in our daily lives are more cautious about trusting others than before? Does aging contribute to a lessening of trust, an erosion that results from experience? Are we in that group? Is this a less trustworthy time in history?

I am the beneficiary of a set of stable relationships in my life, beginning with Judy and extending back through my family, my friends, my jobs.  Trust comes easily for me because of such stability, perhaps even making me too ready to trust for my own good.  In this, I believe, I am fortunate.

What have been the residuals endured by my friends when their experiences have included broken trust?

Political leaders used to speak of public office as a public trust, viewing their offices as contributions to a public good.  Our national history is populated with people who upheld that belief—and others who did not—but the language isn’t even used much anymore.

How many political leaders have even tried to articulate a concept of public good, and how many people believe that the office belongs to the public, held in trust until one’s term has ended? That language seems quite elevated when compared to political discourse these days.

One political leader in our lifetimes referred specifically to trust when describing his approach to working with the Soviet Union. Remember President Reagan quoting a Russian proverb, “trust but verify?”

Such caution might be prudent in foreign affairs. After all, every nation acts in what its leader believe to be the best interest of that nation (or himself), and an occasional check on the history of that nation’s abiding by its word in diplomacy does not seem out of line.

A few recent tragic helicopter crashes, on Kauai and in California, notwithstanding, if we had to live our lives constantly verifying, would we really ever trust anything or anybody?

It is axiomatic that, once trust has been broken, rebuilding it, if even possible, can take a lifetime. In the novel I noted above, the starting point for building trust was simple human kindness provided consistently, over time, no strings attached.  It required patience and dependability.

We can never be 100% sure that the other driver will stay in his lane or that the airplane mechanic has fixed every flaw.  We can take comfort in the percentages, though. Most drivers do what we expect them to do. Most planes don’t crash. Most foods marked safe for human consumption are.  We are in the habit of trusting.

What the television program and Papa Roach remind us, though, is that the decision whether to trust or not is ours to make.

A starting point is to be trustworthy. Trustworthiness can spread.

Trust me on that.

Daniel E. White

February 17, 2020