My favorite atheist

Penn Jillette was at Lisner Auditorium this evening to promote his new book, God No!: Signs You May Already Be an Atheist and Other Magical Tales. I am a big fan of his Showtime program, Penn & Teller: Bullshit! and I've always admired the guy for being open-minded and outspoken. These are two qualities that rarely go together, but make for a powerful combination.

Open-minded people (and Jillette is no exception) as a general rule, openly and respectfully accept other peoples' beliefs - even when they are contrary to their own. They welcome the opinions of others and are willing to concede that they are not always right. This quality does not often run hand-in-hand with being opinionated and outspoken. The outspoken people are generally the ones who are absolute and unyielding in their beliefs. In any forum, it always seems to be the extremes on either side of an argument that are given the most attention. America loves the crazies. Unfortunately, the voices of the extremes often drown out the masses, who are generally in the middle. Certainly this is true in politics where the far left and the far right battle it out, while America is forced to choose the candidate that they find least objectionable. I see this drowning-out of moderate voices first-hand living in DC. There are often protests on the National Mall and thousands of people march and hold signs supporting their cause. Yet, the protest signs that make their way onto television are the photos with Hitler mustaches, or anything that seems in any way extreme or offensive. Those are the representations that are shown. Meanwhile, the masses of people who are holding boring signs that say, "Down with [that bad thing I'm here to protest]" do not make their way into the national consciousness. Most of us fall into that middle, boring category. While Penn Jillette is open-minded, he is far from boring. At 6-foot-7 with a commanding voice, he is hard to overlook; which is good because he brings forth an important message.

The book focuses on his atheist beliefs, but for me it is not his atheist beliefs nor his libertarian beliefs that make him an important voice. It is his unique ability to understand perspective.

I have an atheist friend who gets very upset when someone says to him, "God bless you," or "I will pray for you." He gets genuinely pissed off. To him, the other person is projecting their beliefs onto him. They are making an assumption about him and he rejects their prayers. Jillette, on the other hand, understands that the person is speaking from their own beliefs system. He explained his understanding that if someone believes that a saved soul will go on to everlasting life, it would be like watching someone standing in the middle of the railroad tracks. If you saw an oncoming train, you would do everything you could to persuade them to move out of the way. Even if they said, "There is no train coming. I don't believe there is a train. Richard Dawkins says there's no train," you would still do everything you can to save the person from the oncoming collision. He makes this comparison to Christians and proselytizing. They are speaking from their own understanding of the world. Unlike my friend, he sees this for what it is - a caring gesture. Certainly one that he does not appreciate in the way that they would like him to, but the gesture itself he can identify as coming from a place of caring.

One thing that drives me crazy about many atheists (including my friend and also Bill Maher, who is not my friend but I watch his HBO program) is their condescension toward religious people or believers. This is where Penn Jillette is exceptional because although he has strong beliefs, he also allows everyone else to be entitled to their own beliefs. He acknowledges that there is a fine line between having a civilized debate and stating the facts as you understand them, versus trying to manipulate an argument in an effort to win someone over to your side. His approach is to have a civil conversation and exchange ideas, not to disregard everything the other person says and try to bring them over to your side. This is how most debates seem to go, and it is sad. I wholeheartedly embrace Jillette's philosophy. It is the exchange of ideas that bring progress, not reiteration and condescension toward those who do not believe as you do. That form of communication does not solve problems or change anyone's mind, it simply ends in an uncompromising stalemate. [See: United States Congress]

Mr. Jillette seemed to speak off-the-cuff, but when you pay attention, you notice some very carefully-chosen words. A few times when speaking about stating facts or "the truth," he always followed it up with, "as they/I understand it." That is an important distinction that you rarely hear acknowledged. When people speak the truth or state facts to back up an argument, they are facts or truth as they understand them. Everyone understands the world based on their own personal experience. So it is possible for two people to have an argument and both be stating facts as they understand them, or the truth as they know it, but remain in complete conflict and disagreement. It doesn't always mean that one party is wrong and the other is right. We are all individuals, and just because someone's understanding of life does not match your own, it doesn't make their viewpoint any less valid. Just different. All we can do is respect one another's opinion and perhaps enlighten someone by communicating our own understanding; or agree to respectfully disagree. There are many things that Jillette spoke about that he disagreed with but did not condescend or disparage. To some it may have sounded like he was defending them, but it was something far more civilized than defense of another argument. He respectfully disagreed with many things, and that is something I do not hear often enough.

The good news of the evening was that although there will not be a new season of Penn & Teller: Bullshit!, the duo has a new show coming out soon. It will be on the Discovery Channel (or, the Disco Channel as he would like everyone to refer to it, since that is how it appears on his TV menu.)

Reflection and Perspective

I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't know how to read. If you ask my mother, she will probably tell you that as soon as the umbilical cord was severed, I read the hospital chart to learn my last name. Mothers are prone to exaggeration.

Exaggerations and proud parents aside, one of my earliest memories is before I began Kindergarten. The details of my memory are somewhat unreliable, but I believe it was an assessment before I started school. A young woman sat across from me and said, "When I say a word, I want you to repeat after me, okay?" I consented, eager to please. She began, "Okay, repeat after me. DOG." I quickly responded, "D-O-G." For whatever reason, I spelled the word instead of repeating it. As I remember it, it was an automatic reaction to her ridiculously easy exercise, but memory being unreliable I will not count out that this younger version of me was simply trying to show off. It is entirely possible that my aim was to impress the lady.

Whatever my intentions, the thing I remember next is her getting up immediately after I spelled the word and going over to talk to someone else. I was certain that I was in trouble. I hadn't followed directions. I was paralyzed in fear. I had screwed up and not followed directions and now they weren't going to let me into school. Oh how excited I was to finally begin school and right then I had just ruined it with the word dog. (or was it cat? Perhaps I spelled out a dog-cat-house trifecta and sent this woman off in a flurry.) As it turns out, I was not in trouble at all. I had impressed her with my superior spelling skills and the resulting discussion amongst grown ups was to discuss my accelerated reading skills. I was allowed to go to school after all. Kindergarten was a half day, beginning at noon. I spent the following years unable to understand why I couldn't begin every day at noon and revolting against anything that began before 11 a.m. This is something I still struggle with today.

There is a reason I have been reflecting upon my literary beginnings. I have to give credit (or blame?) to my good friend Paul on this one. Paul is an extremely talented writer and he has always encouraged me to continue to write and complimented my abilities to put words together - whether it be on a blog, in a million letters written back and forth, or (ideally) somewhere that people would actually pay money to read what I have written. The latter being unlikely without a great deal of work, I appreciate Paul's nudges to continue to keep my writing skills sharp in whatever way possible. Recently after reading my blog and learning of my financial shortcomings, he sent me words of encouragement. He reminded me to keep writing, and assured me that one day I would look back and see this period of my life as "character building."

I say this with full confidence that anyone who knows me will agree: If I had any more character, I would need to be described as "A character." I have gotten myself into more "character building" situations than I care to admit. But I can't deny that the difficult times have taught me a lot about myself, and those lessons are invaluable. So, considering Paul's advice and encouragement, I began to reflect upon my favorite books throughout my life.

When I consider the most influential books throughout my life, one theme is constantly repeated. Without question, the most inspiring book of my youth was A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. As I read the story of Francie Nolan escaping the realities of her difficult young life through her imagination and love of reading, I escaped my own challenges and awkwardness. I was very young when I read Little Women by Louisa May Alcott and immediately felt a connection to Jo March as she read to her little sisters and felt a passion for writing. In my adult life, I was moved by Frank McCourt's memoir, Angela's Ashes. Again, I felt an emotional connection to the story about someone who survived unimaginable circumstances and poverty by relying on imagination and his natural storytelling ability. All of these books have such a special place in my heart, and each of them tells the story of someone who survives poverty by relying upon the strength of family, and the power of imagination.

As desperate as my financial situation feels, my life is privileged when compared to my literary heroes. To compare my challenges to theirs (and their respective authors) even in my current situation would be to celebrate my own prosperity. I may whine about my well-being, but I am far from tearing down the ceilings in my apartment to keep the fire going for heat. I face challenges, but I can not describe myself as suffering. For this, I gain strength from the perseverance shown by the characters in these books. And like them, I gain strength from the people around me.

I would never have had the courage to move to Washington, D.C. on my own and pursue a career if I did not have the strength of my friends and family back home. Sometimes the word "friends" is not strong enough, and the people in my life can only be described as family. Now that I am here, it is the new friendships I have made that encourages me to stay and find fulfillment in D.C. Even if it means working seven days a week, trying to climb a ladder that often doesn't appear to have steps, and to do whatever it takes to keep afloat in difficult financial times. It has been difficult, nearly impossible, to live within my means in my current situation. It is difficult when you don't have enough money to make ends meet. But I would not trade the people in my life for all the money in the world. My financial situation is coming together and will eventually be in order. I can live with these months of sacrifices and I can even stay positive if I keep reminding myself to rely on those two important things. The support of the people around me, and the power of the imagination. As long as I have my friends and family, I will never be alone. As long as I have my imagination, I will never be bored. Sometimes I just need to remind myself never to take either of those things for granted. And sometimes I need Paul to remind me. Thanks, Paul. And thanks to all of the people I am incredibly blessed to have in my life: My friends, my family, and my books.

Remembering Frank McCourt

I am saddened today by the news that author Frank McCourt passed away. I read his first Memoir, Angela's Ashes, not long after it came out and it immediately became my favorite book. It was one of those rare reads that reaches you so deeply that you feel like you have grown as a person. The kind you finish in a day or two and immediately begin to buy copies for everyone you know. I am sure that some of you reading this blog have read the book upon my recommendation, or perhaps on your own accord. At any rate, I hope it reaches you the same way it has reached me.

I know some people did not enjoy the book as much as I because they found it depressing. The situation is most certainly heartbreaking - being raised in Ireland in such poverty, siblings starving and even dying in the bed next to him. What I found so inspirational about the memoir was Mr. McCourt's ability to shed light to his story by bringing humor through his innocent perspective as a child who knew no other life. There is nothing in my lifetime that could ever compare to what he endured in his childhood. If he can keep that in perspective and share his experience in such a moving memoir, I have no excuses to let anything hold me back. That is the inspiration his words bring to me. He was a wonderful storyteller and through it all he kept his sense of humor. Or perhaps that is how he developed one.

In 2006, Frank McCourt came to Iowa City through the University of Iowa Lecture Series. I attended his lecture about his years teaching and he was an inspiration as always. Afterward, some friends and I went to a local bar and before I had finished my first drink, I saw Frank McCourt walk in the door. Of course, I did what anyone does when they run into someone they idolize, I told everyone who would listen, "That's Frank McCourt! You guys, Frank McCourt is here! Oh my God I don't know what to do, Frank McCourt is sitting across the room from me." Then I remembered to breathe.

Normally I hate being in these situations because I do not want to invade anyone's privacy. As much as I want to let someone know how much I appreciate them and how much of a fan I am, I do not want to interrupt anyone's free time to gush incoherently about how great they are. I think fame would be a curse. I can't imagine not being able to go about my normal life without being interrupted and having to act interested in what people have to say when really you just want to eat a sandwich. That would be difficult, but I really did want to meet him.

Luckily, icebreakers are much easier when the person is Irish. How do you let an Irishman know you appreciate him? You buy him a drink! I asked the waitress to bring is next drink on me. When she brought it over she pointed me out and we did a "cheers" across the bar. I'm sure I blushed from head to toe, but I was honored to buy the man a drink.

Later (after his meal) when I was getting up, Mr. McCourt waved me over to his table. He was sitting with a couple of people on the UI Lecture Committee and a young man who worked for his publisher and was traveling with him. I sat down and talked to them a bit and Frank McCourt was every bit as charming as I expected he would be. He ended up leaving shortly after but the rest of us stayed and had a few more drinks together.

I exchanged emails with the guy who worked for the publisher but it has been a long time. When I heard the news today, I found the email address and explained that I had met them in Iowa City. I expressed my condolences and asked that he let Mr. McCourt's family and loved ones know how much he was appreciated by so many of us. Frank McCourt truly was a national treasure.

I was not sure if I would get a response or if the email address was still current. To my surprise, he responded right away and told me he remembered the night. After a few email exchanges back and forth, he confessed what Frank McCourt whispered after he waved me over to the table. The following is from his email...

But I distinctly remember when the waitress came by and said that there was a lady that wanted to buy him a drink. And his response was, "Tell her I accept." When the waitress came back with the drink he suggested we invite you to come by the table. As you were approaching - he could see you, and I couldn't... he said you were my type.

I'll never forget him saying that he thought you were my type, and that since he was happily married, he'd happily be my 75 year old Irish, bestselling author and Pulitzer Prize winning wingman! And whatever happened in Iowa City, stayed in Iowa City.

This morning I was sad when I heard of his death, and today I have had a good laugh to know that when I met this man I have so much respect for, he was acting like a frat boy. (How many senior citizens know what a wingman is?!?!) The man truly was someone who comes along only once in a lifetime. There will never be another Frank McCourt, and I know at least one person who will have a hell of a time finding another 75 year old Irish, bestselling author and Pulitzer Prize winning wingman.

May he rest in peace. He's always been an inspiration to me, but I could not adore Frank McCourt any more than I do at this very moment.