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<div>Thank you for this, Jim.</div><div>I'm so appreciative of your grasp of JWM's 'presencing' as the one who calls us to authentic presence in the world and authentic 'all-in' expenditure.</div><div>Not only did JWM rock my boat (and my life). So did the elusive Mr. Salinger. So much so that I wrote my undergraduate honors thesis on his fiction.</div><div>You might also want to read Salinger's <i>Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters/Seymour: an Introduction</i> for more on Seymour.</div><div>Yesterday I passed through unbelievably intense security with a specially selected group of guests and entered the unbelievably remote and elegantly finished <a href="https://sf.curbed.com/2017/4/24/14831540/us-court-appeals-san-francisco-ninth" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Beaux-Arts world of the headquarters of the Ninth Circuit of Appeals</a> in San Francisco for the rare opportunity of a VIP tour guided by the in-house authority on the building and the court. Utter WOW!</div><div>And, as I exited this 'other world' of Federal Justice (protected by a photograph of a smiling 'you-know-who' in the WH) into the reality of Mission Street two hours later, there she was, waiting for us all: the heaviest, blackest, oldest, ugliest Fat Lady you can imagine, just sitting there on the raised concrete edge of the 'moat' (I mean this literally) that will protect the building from the rest of the world during the next earthquake. And struggling to breathe.</div><div>Not only will the Fat Lady never get past Security to go inside to take a free piss in one of the world's most elegant Beaux-Arts Ladies' Rooms. Or, more significantly, be allowed to take her seat with the very few members of the public who attend the arguments of the Court in one of the world's most elegant courtrooms. Because that's who Security intends to screen out! More importantly for all of us, it is doubtful whether there will ever be Justice for the Fat Lady--the one who first sat in the front of the bus and who struggled to walk over the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma.</div><div>As I write this, I'm thinking of the Fat Lady in Oombulgurri and the Fat Lady in Fifth City who never got to see the land we promised them, but who did get to participate in the movement of the Arc of history toward a Justice that is beyond our lifetimes and beyond our imaginations.</div><div>Grace and Peace,</div><div>Marshall Jones</div><div>BTW, the latest courtroom added to the building was finished in 1935 and has swastikas carved into the ceiling! Big clue about some hidden values ...</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>
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<div><b>From:</b> Sharon Texley texley@sbcglobal.net [earthrise] <earthrise-noreply@yahoogroups.com></div><div><b>To:</b> Jim Troxel <jtroxel49@gmail.com></div><div><b>Cc:</b> "earthrise@yahoogroups.com" <earthrise@yahoogroups.com></div><div><b>Sent:</b> Thursday, March 7, 2019, 6:48:00 AM PST</div><div><b>Subject:</b> Re: [earthrise] Re-discovering the Fat Lady</div><div><br></div>
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<p>Thanks for that, Jim. It brought back all those experiences. </p><div><br clear="none"></div><div>Sharon<br clear="none"><br clear="none"><div dir="ltr" id="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759AppleMailSignature">Sent from my iPhone</div><div class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759yqt6857292255" id="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759yqt19711"><div dir="ltr"><br clear="none">On Mar 7, 2019, at 6:47 AM, Jim Troxel <a shape="rect" href="mailto:jtroxel49@gmail.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">jtroxel49@gmail.com</a> [earthrise] <<a shape="rect" href="mailto:earthrise-noreply@yahoogroups.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">earthrise-noreply@yahoogroups.com</a>> wrote:<br clear="none"><br clear="none"></div><blockquote type="cite"><div dir="ltr">
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<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><b><i>Franny and Zooey</i></b>, J. D. Salinger, 1961.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">I met this book in 1967 in Chicago between my junior and senior years
in college. To be more precise, I met a small excerpt, five paragraphs, which
except for 3 others, were the last in the book. You might recall
these paragraphs because Salinger introduces us to the infamous “Last Fat
Lady.” One character was reminding another character how a mutual friend had
told them both, on separate occasions, to “shine their shoes for the fat lady,”
as preparation for their performances which was odd to both of them because
their performances were on the radio and clearly the “fat lady” would never see
their shined shoes, so why do it? Furthermore, this fat lady sat in an old
wicker chair all day, swatting flies with her big veiny legs. What an insult to
be shining your shoes for someone who seemed to care so little.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">Yet the one character who seems to be “preaching” (admonishing) to the
other drops two pennies. The first penny is that everyone has a “fat lady” - a person,
usually, who calls forth the best in all of us, even though it may not make any
rational sense. And the second penny is that the Fat Lady is Christ Himself..<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">I encountered the Fat Lady in 1967 at a summer program of the ICA (nee
EI). I was selected by Doris Hahn, one of our pedagogues in the six-week
student program, to read the passage while the participants, a group of 50 or
so college students, were eating their breakfast together. (Part of the program
included hearing various readings over meal times). I was forewarned by Doris
so I practiced and I’d have to say in all humility I gave those six paragraphs
my theatrical best. Even I was moved.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">Over the next few years these same words would reappear in our work
though over time they dissipated in frequency and potency. I guess they became
sort of “politically incorrect.” But, I remember along the way I promised
myself that one day I’d read the whole book and find out the context for the
passage.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">That day finally arrived. Recently I was putting some books from our
family library as part of our downsizing into our neighborhood Little Library
kiosk and as I was doing so, looking back at me was a copy of <i>Franny and Zooey</i>. I picked it up
promising to read it during our annual Mexico Playa Litibu winter sojourn.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">In doing so I discovered a lot more about Franny, an insecure senior in
college, uncertain of her future calling and the target of our famed sermonizing
passage, and Zooey, her older brother by seven years and a “sought after” actor
who delivered the pointed message. I met their siblings and their mother,
Franny’s boyfriend and one of her professors, Tupper by name, who appears in
our passage. Another sibling, Seymour, the oldest who had committed suicide,
appears in the passage. The profound passage, so long ago, to me and my
erstwhile college students, uncertain of our own futures, now fell into
context. And its power found a home.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span>I met another character as I was
reading the book – Joe Mathews. He came in and out of the character of Zooey. Zooey
was a thespian who had not reached his potential. A cigar-smoking pontificator
on all subjects and judged by his mother and siblings a sort of lovable smart-aleck.
And the power of Zooey’s two pennies, for me, were rekindled by remembrances of
Joe, especially in his talks in Room A and the Great Hall in the late ‘60’s and
early ‘70s till his last talk in the summer of 1977. I think of Joe as, more
than anything else, a thespian at heart, a profession he sought before being
called elsewhere.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759MsoNormal" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">His every talk was an “event.” He was pure theater. This fact was
brought home to me when I had the chance to read the book of his talks. None of
them were comprehensible in a rational sense. You had to have been there to
experience them. They were happenings, not intellectual dissertations. They
were being delivered by someone who was in a way fulfilling his calling to be
an actor for the purposes of his audience to discover their own Fat Lady. Joe,
I think, knew this, too. Sometimes, as he gave one of his talks, I think he
even knew he didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, but he delivered it
with such sincere passion that you couldn’t help yourself not believe him.
You’ll recall, on occasion, Joe referred to himself as an old Fat Man, an
illusion, I contend, back to our passage. This was the role of Zooey,
delivering the Word that would set you free even if it didn’t make rational
sense.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">I found another character in the book that I recognized.
I was Franny. On the last stage of my college career wondering what in the hell
I was supposed to do with my life, and was told to “shine my shoes for the Fat
lady.” And, suddenly, it all made sense. I had my calling and direction.<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">I confess there are days (weeks, months, years) when I
forget to shine my shoes, and in fact there are days when on purpose I don’t
shine my shoes. But mostly, I try to figure out who in my life is giving me the
opportunity for me to be my best?<span> </span>Who or
what is calling forth my greatness?<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">And, you? Who is that person who you might imagine
sitting in that awful wicker chair with thick, veiny legs and listening to talk
radio or TV all-day long, filled with cancer that is giving you the chance to
be your best?<span></span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;"><span> </span></p>
<p class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail-MsoNoSpacing" style="margin:0in 0in 0.0001pt;font-size:11pt;">Jim Troxel<span></span></p>
</div><br clear="none">-- <br clear="none"><div class="ydp742474bdyiv1975851759gmail_signature" dir="ltr"><div>Jim Troxel</div><div><a shape="rect" href="mailto:jtroxel49@gmail.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">jtroxel49@gmail.com</a></div><div>Home: 773-506-2551</div><div>Cell: 312-404-9920</div></div></div>
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