The Wonderful Mr. Roosevelt

In my mind, Theodore Roosevelt was, without question, the most amazing American this nation has ever produced. He was a genetic freak, who encompassed strengths normally found on the opposite end of the spectrum:

            He was an intellectual, who was people person.

            In his lifetime, Roosevelt wrote over thirty-five books and well over 100, 000 letters. During the course of his life, he read thousands of books, which included complex works on German warfare-in German and ancient Greek classics-in the original Greek.

            Yet, TR cultivated friendships with people, which transcended economic and social strata and lasted a lifetime. Because of his family’s social position and travels, Roosevelt formed friendships with members of Europe’s upper class, dating from his youth. He was equally at home in the old west, having lived in the Dakota badlands during the DEADWOOD era. Cowboys from that time remained his friends until death.

            He was a brilliant natural scientist, who loved poetry and literature.

            Beginning in boyhood, Roosevelt engaged in the complex analysis of animals in the natural world. His area of advanced expertise was ornithology—birds. During his presidency, the Smithsonian Institution’s museum of natural history would send specimens over for his identification. After his presidency, Roosevelt lectured on natural science in some of the finest universities in Europe.

            Roosevelt read virtually every classic work of literature in the English language. He also read some of the great works in other languages including French, German, Latin, and Greek. His love of poetry was so great; he could recite, decades later, complete poems, including those in foreign languages, which he had only read once.

            TR freely engaged in the world of the complex—working through slow, methodical analysis. Yet, he was equally in his heart, a romantic.            

            He was a warrior, who won the Nobel Peace Prize.

            Roosevelt was famous for leading the charge up San Juan Hill in the Spanish American war. For this, he became a war hero and legend.

            As president, Roosevelt brokered a settlement ending the war in 1905 between Japan and Russia. His work precluded an event that, though not as catastrophic as World War I, would have wreaked havoc on Europe and Asia, had it continued.

            He was an astounding success in various careers—political, military, writing…--yet, he was a marvelous family man.

            By any standard, Roosevelt was a success in his work: President, military leader, and writer of what is still today the definitive work on the naval war of 1812 (at age 23!).

            However, Roosevelt enjoyed a rapturous marriage with his wife, Edith. By every account, his six children adored him and he spent much time with them.

            One can see why his children loved him so much in the published work, THEODORE ROOSEVELT’S LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. I own this work on my iPhone’s Kindle App. These letters are replete with Roosevelt’s love, affection, and personality. What amazes me, though, are the details he would include in his letters, describing his experiences. Some go on for pages.

            The only other president I have seen even remotely close to the giftedness of Roosevelt was Bill Clinton. The difference, as one would suspect, was the moral center. The only way a man can survive this level of talent and giftedness and avoid self-destruction is to cultivate and maintain a strong moral center.

            I finished Edmund Morris’ COLONEL ROOSEVELT last week. In doing so, I could not help but feel a twinge of sadness. For over thirty years now, I have had a new work to anticipate, with eagerness, from the pen of Edmund Morris. That part of my life is now over.

            I rank the three volumes of Morris’ trilogy in the following order:

            1) THE RISE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT. This volume captured the pouring of the foundation for what would be a colossal career. Morris captures the spirit and energy of young Roosevelt. The narrative flows like an adventure series—a true page-turner. This is the greatest biographical volume I have ever read.

            2) COLONEL ROOSEVELT. This was a close call with volume two, THEODORE REX. I concede the edge to the final volume because Morris captures better than any other biographer I read of this period (including Kathleen Dalton, H. W. Brands, and Patricia O’Toole—all produced good work) Roosevelt’s slow, yet perceptible descent into an early old age. Due to injuries, exotic fevers, and heart disease, the apostle of the strenuous life is an old man by age 55. Morris particularly captures well the descent of Roosevelt’s spirit. It is sad for the reader to observe Roosevelt’s slow, emotional surrender, culminating with the tragic death of his youngest son, Quentin, in World War I. At the end of his life, Roosevelt knew the presidency was likely his in 1920. Yet, the honor held no meaning for him. His energy, vitality, and joy were depleted.

            3) THEODORE REX. I completed this second volume for the third time last week—via an audio work. Morris, in this volume, produced the most compelling narrative of a president’s years in office I have ever read—and I have read some good ones. Roosevelt single-handedly changed the presidency at just the right time in our nation’s history. Only forty-two when he assumed office, Roosevelt became our youngest president. Reading this volume, the reader has fun joining Roosevelt on his journey. The unique item Morris brings to the table in his work is the nuance that lies in Roosevelt’s character. He is far from the “shoot-from-the-hip” caricature. Rather, he is shown as a circumspect leader always aware of the importance of balance. Having become a great fan of Aristotle’s concept of virtue over the past few years, I cannot help but note Roosevelt’s innate wisdom in judging that virtue lies within the middle of two extremes. For example, charity is that virtue found between enabling a person, in need, too much, and destroying him by offering too little. Morris does the best work of any biographer in relating Roosevelt’s endless pursuit of balance.

            I possess in my library a READER'S DIGEST condensed novel on the life of Theodore Roosevelt called TR. The author, Noel B. Gerson, was inspired by his father. In the preface, the author wrote there was only one time he ever saw his father cry.

            Gerson's father was the city editor of a Chicago daily paper, and the toughest man his son ever knew. When the author was a boy, his father returned home from work one day--and burst into tears.

            Why? Why would this tough, dependable man break into tears? Before the boy could ask, his father blurted out the answer.
            "Theodore Roosevelt is dead."

Five Things I Think I Think (with a nod to Peter King for this idea)

1. I got to share with my two oldest, one of the great scary movies, on Saturday night—THE CHANGLING. With a marvelous cast headed by George C. Scott and Melvyn Douglas, this was a classy movie—something you do not always see in this genre. Classic scary movie moment: Scott’s character, living alone in the huge, historic old house, being awakened every morning at 6:00 by the pounding sound that literally causes the house to vibrate. This movie was made in 1979, and I have seen it through the years at least 6 or 7 times.

2. Yes, I did enjoy the football season. Now, I am enjoying the beginning of a six-month break.

3. I’ve got to admit, I have a hankering to watch Matthew Perry’s new series, MR. SUNSHINE. For some reason, the previews strike me as funny. I’m going to hold off, though. The nice thing about this day and age, I can always watch it on HULU or something if the urge strikes later.

4. Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope your wishes were fulfilled. I’m grateful mine were.

5. I hope Judy thinks her wishes were. I subscribe to the Tommy Nelson theory—I attempt to supply romance long before Valentine’s Day. I do write her a poem or love letter—delivered on Valentine’s Day. She always seems to appreciate those.

Overflow

Take a glass. Put it in a bowl. Take a water pitcher. Fill it with water. Pour water from the pitcher into the glass until the glass overflows with water. Let the over flow fill the bowl. Drink water until your thirst is quenched. If you drain the glass and are still thirsty, fill it again from the pitcher.

After your thirst is quenched, pour water from the overflow (in the bowl) into the glass. Chances are, the overflow will not satisfy like that first drink did from the pitcher.

The gap between having a need and satisfying it can be great. Meeting that need can be a very fulfilling experience—maybe even a very happy one.

Once that need is met, the gap between satisfying a need and receiving emotional blessing is small, maybe even miniscule. You can keep drinking water from the overflow, but it is not going to be an immensely fulfilling experience. (Filling, yes, but not FULfilling.) It will not add greatly to your happiness. It may even create discomfort.

Ever hear that you are supposed to drink eight glasses of water a day? I have rarely tried to do so, when it was not an experience of discipline--even suffering. Some days, I could not even attempt it, unless, I knew I was going to be near a bathroom. My body, after glass three, would say, “Enough of this.” I would feel bloated. Not a good thing.

Now, on a hot summer day, after mowing, I might drink four glasses of water. I needed that much to meet a need. And, oh, did it feel good. Once that need was met, satisfaction dwindled.

You may own one home. If it keeps you dry and comfortable, that need is satisfied and you can’t do much better. Donald Trump owns a few homes—maybe five or ten. Donald Trump is not five or ten times more happy than you.

You may need a billion dollars in the bank, and you may have a billion dollars in the bank. Bill Gates has $55 billion in the bank. I assure you, Bill Gates is not $55 billion happier than you.

Here is my point. Jesus promised us that God would take care of our basic needs and to not worry about them. Most of us, when we worry, are not worried about basic needs; they are being met. Instead, we are worrying about the overflow of blessings God provides.

We are not worrying about getting the drink of water from the glass. That is being provided. We are worrying about the overflow of water in the bowl. 

Five Things I Think I Think (with a nod to Peter King for this idea)

1. Dallas Cowboys, I hardly known ye.

2. As I posted on Facebook, the weekend before Thanksgiving begins my favorite six-week period of the year.

3. I saw Edmund Morris last night on C-Span. I cannot wait to read COLONEL ROOSEVELT. I was a senior in high school when he published the first volume of the Roosevelt trilogy. Now I am fifty. Amazing.

4. Way to go ETCA girls’ basketball team. You are undefeated. Samantha Phillips, you are an amazing player.

5. Congratulations to the ETCA girls volleyball team for your awards. Parental pride: my oldest daughter, Haleigh, was named first team all-state.

Be Careful What You Wish For

John Wooden was the greatest American coach of the twentieth century. One reason, so many organizations voted him this honor, was because his UCLA teams won ten national championships. With this in mind, of all of the things John Wooden ever wrote, two paragraphs stand out to me as the most intriguing. The following quote is not a misprint:

Many times I have suggested to interested observers that if I ever met a magical genie who could grant me two wishes, I knew what they would be. First, for those many coaches whom I respect and have warm feelings toward I would wish each one a national championship.

For those few coaches for whom I have less-than-warm feelings, my wish would be that they win many national championships. However, in truth, I’m not sure I would wish that on anybody. [Italics mine.]

Why would John Wooden write this? Because his life became practically unbearable after winning so many championships, and by “practically” I mean just that—life was no longer practical under the structure of so much “success.” As the amount of championships Wooden’s teams won increased, so too did the amount of attention Wooden received. Questions from reporters and fans, crowds forming around him, requests for his time—all of the demands reached a disproportionate level in his life.

As Wooden wrote in his book, WOODEN ON LEADERSHIP, “I felt more and more that crowds were closing in and enveloping me. I seemed to be constantly surrounded. This great frenzy of activity and attention was more than unwelcome; it was unnatural.”

Finally, Wooden concluded that his life had become irrevocably out of balance. “Balance is crucial in everything we do…. The body has to be in balance; the mind has to be in balance; emotions must be in balance. Balance is important everywhere and in everything we do.”

“Unfortunately, over the last years of my coaching at UCLA things had gotten out of balance. Perhaps my subconscious mind figured out that the only way to regain the balance I required personally and professionally was to leave the game I love.”

And he did. He announced his retirement, and two days later, UCLA won its final national championship for John Wooden.

Man was not created to be a rock star. At some point, what we call success is really a disaster in the making, not unlike a hurricane forming off of a coast.

We see people experience what Wooden describes all of the time; we just don’t recognize it. Moreover, we lock in on the aberrant behavior that people typically demonstrate in a sad attempt to cope.

I think these pressures are what often lie behind the star, who overdoses on drugs, and even takes his or her own life. I believe Wooden is describing some of the background behind Tiger Woods’ self-destructive behavior. The proverbial “cry for help” really is that. Life has hurled itself out of balance. The “successful” person desperately searches for a means to bring it back into stability.

The Beatles were before my time, but I think it is fascinating to trace the arc of the world’s most successful rock band. In 1966, they chose to discontinue touring. Crowds had become too wild. Life had become too chaotic. Therefore, the Beatles decided to accelerate their drug use (abuse), produce studio albums, and travel to India to study with the Maharishi.

None of those actions were enough. Finally, the band disbanded.

I take from all of this a warning. In a culture that accentuates “success,” there is a level of “success” that is too far. Cross that line, and you cross the threshold marking off the restraints that help keep life in check.

I believe these realties lay behind God’s decision to sabotage the Tower of Babel. (“The LORD said, "If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them.”)

After pondering these issues and many more, the writer of Ecclesiastes offered some sage advice, “11:13 Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.”

In our culture, we see illustration, after illustration, after illustration, detailing for us the price of too much success. Maybe the writer of Ecclesiastes is right—maybe we should redefine what life’s great need is, and what life’s great success is.

Five Things I Think I Think (with a nod to Peter King for this idea)

1. Timothy Edge has a new hobby. He has given up magic for chess. He has really gotten into chess. At last, I found what motivates him to read. He reads a chess book that teaches checkmate moves while he plays his older sisters in chess matches. Hey, whatever it takes. As for magic, I guess his last trick was his best one. He has made his magic tricks disappear from the Edge household.

2. Buzz has already begun on Edmund Morris’ final volume of his biography of Theodore Roosevelt. It will be called COLONEL ROOSEVELT and is set to release late November early December. If it is anything like the first two volumes, it will be a marvelous work. Coupling Morris, the writer, with a subject so compelling as Theodore Roosevelt, and you’ve got a categorical nightmare. Is it great literature or history? I think both. By the way, if Random House would like for me to do an in-depth review, all they need to do is send me an advanced copy. I’ll gladly take care of the rest.

3. I had a great time at the North Street church of Christ in Nacogdoches, Texas yesterday. Every August, they bring in a different preacher and his wife each weekend of the month. They put the couple up in the Fredonia Hotel (built in 1955 and restored, it is a neat place to stay.) Sunday morning, the preacher teachers a combined Bible class and preaches. It is sort of like a weekly lectureship for August.

            The church has a marvelous campus ministry to Stephen F. Austin University. Their campus presence is known as the “Yellow House” and has been a present for a few decades now.

            I’ve known Dr. Michael Harbour, their preacher, since 1995, when we both lived in the valley of Texas. He has a marvelous mind, as well as, other assorted skills, and I think is the ideal fit for that ministry context.

            I have some old friends that attend there and it was so good to see them. Parents of some of our Shiloh folks attend North Street also; I was grateful to get to know them.

            Thank you North Street.

4. Three out of five against Boston and New York—not a bad homestand Texas Rangers. And over 235,000 fans attended the homestand. I can remember when 235,000 fans represented a little less than a third of the season’s attendance.

5. School starts this week at ETCA. I knew summer would be over in a hurry!