The story of American Religious tolerance

According to this article at the Smithsonian, America is not quite the bastion of religious freedom that it is so often portrayed to be, and it never was.

America can still be, as Madison perceived the nation in 1785, “an Asylum to the persecuted and oppressed of every Nation and Religion.” But recognizing that deep religious discord has been part of America’s social DNA is a healthy and necessary step. When we acknowledge that dark past, perhaps the nation will return to that “promised...lustre” of which Madison so grandiloquently wrote.

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Old photos

I co-founded a band in 1973. We called it Ego, and the 8 of us (sometimes nine) played the music of Chicago, Blood, Sweat and Tears, Doobie Brothers and many other types of music. Many of our arrangements were our own. The trumpet player for Ego (Ron Weaver) recently sent me some photos from our band days 35 years ago, and I'm astounded at the emotions that the photos have triggered. At this point (see below--I'm the 3rd from the left), we ranged in age from 16 to 20 years of age. We were all going to school and most of us were working other jobs too. Yet playing with Ego was our passion. The proof is that we were willing to split our $200 fees eight or nine ways. I'm now three times the age that I was back then, but I felt like an adult even back then. I was studying in a pre-med program, totally unaware that I would switch paths and end up practicing law. Totally unaware that I would be raising 10 and 12-year old daughters 35 years later. I could have never imagined giving up music, and I haven't, though I have never played with a large group since Ego. Several of the other players still have careers playing music, two of them (Charles Glenn and Kelly Durbin [not in the above photo]) on a high level. It was a lot of work to organize a band in 1974, given that this era was pre-email and pre-cellphone. We wrote out much of our own music with pencil and paper, including detailed brass parts. None of this could have happened without everyone pitching in, and the band was filled with talented and hard-working people, all of whom had good senses of humor. Somehow it all worked for more than two years before we went our separate ways, pulled by a variety of things, none of which I can clearly articulate at this point. There's nothing like an old photo to bring these memories flooding back. In fact, I'd never before seen this photo, so seeing it was like stepping into a time machine. This photo makes me want to jump back in time to play Chicago's "Make Me Smile" with the group or to struggle once more through an original tune we wrote in 7/4 time. It is such an amazing gift to see this photo so many years later (and to be alive to see it 35 years later). It is such an amazing thing that the mind, though it forgets so many episodes of the past, clings for decades to emotionally-embedded memories. This photo also makes me wonder whether it was the hard work of co-running and marketing a band that might have prepared me for resolving many of the conflicts I encountered later in life. There was a lot of improvising that was required back then and only some of it involved music. Much of that improvisation involved logistics, like how to afford necessary equipment, how to build our own mixer and lights and how many of us needed to convince parents yet again that we needed to borrow the family station wagons to make it to the gig. This photo also reminds me of that wonderful tired feeling, at about 3 am, when we had finished working and finished unloading the equipment back home, when we knew that we brought some joy to the audience, and that we would have a chance to do it again a day or a week later. In case it's not obvious, I'm really proud of what we accomplished as teenagers. If a parent asked me to suggest a way for their own teenager to grow into a responsible adult, I might blurt out: "Tell them to run a band." It's not the only way to come of age, but for me it was a terrific path. This photos is packed with emotion for me, and looking back at it, the emotion was the logic of what we did. Whoever says that humans are primarily rational rather than emotional creatures has it so very wrong, indeed.

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Tell them or I will tell them

I seem to attract a certain type of person. Every couple of days it seems like someone tells me that they wish they could tell someone X but that they "can't." One or two good questions later it is clear that they actually could tell someone X but they would rather not. They would rather not endure that short moment of discomfort, even though getting it off their chests would give them months or even years of sweet relief. Instead of telling someone X, the typical complainer tells me that they can't tell someone X, and I it seems that telling me about their unwillingness to tell another person who really needs to hear X, they get a small bit of relief. But this bit of relief for them is at my expense. It annoys me to hear that a complainer won't simply tell someone else something that they need to be hearing. If this sounds nebulous, let me offer a few examples: "I can't tell my roommate to quit eating my food without paying for it." "The neighbor's barking dogs are driving me crazy, but I don't dare tell the neighbor to do anything about it." "My boss won't give me a raise, but I dare not ask him for it, even though it's been 10 years since I received a raise and I deserve it." "My 38-year-old child needs to move out of the house, but I cannot ask her to do so." "My husband is almost always 20 minutes late for everything we do, but I am unable to talk to him about this problem." "My coworker keeps hanging around talking and this keeps me from getting my work done, but she's very sensitive so I am not able to say anything." Bullshit. You can say something. You should say something. Anything that can be said can be said by you, and it could be said succinctly and with kindness. And if you won't say it because you'd rather complain to me about it, I'm going to start taking law into my own hands and I'm going to tell them.

[Knock, knock, knock]. [Door opens] Erich: "Hello. You don't know me, but I work with your upstairs neighbor. Almost every day she complains to me about your loud yappy dog. Your dog keeps my coworker awake, and it keeps her from concentrating on her studies. You need to do something about your dog. Do you understand? Good. I hope there will be no need for me to stop by again. Thank you. Have a nice day.
Doing this sort of thing is not difficult for me. Half of the advice I already give to people is to encourage them to go say the thing they need to say to the person who needs to hear it. Maybe I should monetize this service, charging the complaining person $20 to go say the thing that they can't say. "Bob, please stop calling Amy because she really doesn't like talking to you; you see, she's afraid to tell you to quit calling her." Or this: "Amy, Bob asked me to tell you to quit flirting with him if you don't want him to call you." Actually, rather than doing the work myself, it might even more fun to drag the complaining person along and force the two of them to talk to each other. You know, teach a man to fish . . . I'd do that service cheap, for $20 per occurrence, and the world would be better for it. Or does someone already offer a service like this?

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