My Perfect Summer Song

On a night like tonight, when the air is conditioned for remembering, this is the song that bundles all my summer nights of youth and college and band life and now and makes me relive them all in a few minutes. Even though there were years that went by that I didn't listen to this song or album, it still feels like it fits every moment. I feel like the lines "That's when I knew/that I could never have you/I knew that before you did...I'll get over you/You'll wonder who I am" sums up every relationship I was ever in, except for the one I was finally meant to be in. And I hate myself so much for that. But at the same time I love how the song floats feelings of bike rides on my red Schwinn through the cool night roads of Grantville. Smoking cloves in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn after work. Dreaming of sailing on back porches 'til dawn in some Midwestern city. Loving the way my life is changing in so many ways right now for the better. I think when things are changing in my life is when I love this song the most (The Cranberries' "Dreams" almost pulls an upset here). Because this song is a transitional song. It's leaving things behind and paddling out onto the ocean of the unknown. When you're a teenager, you feel like that's every other week. Your whole life is literally comprised of feeling so alone and so alive. It's less often now, but- as lame as it is- whenever I'm driving at night in the summer, the windows come down and this song comes on, and I'm that mixtape 16-year-old kid driving a Volkswagen Fox again (minus the braces, the chain necklace, the black lights in my car (wtf?), and... so, so many things). And it's kind of cool to still love that. Cause even though I'm almost twice that age, I still sometimes need to feel that age. I need to be naive and optimistic again, even if only for a stretch of highway and a side street and a parking space and the ending of a song collaborating with the turning off of the engine. I need that, just until I'm home.

The Ocean Becoming Light

Sometimes, when I really get to thinking about it, I have a lot of issues with the Bible. And sometimes, it takes a lot for me to remember why I shouldn’t.

When I step back from it, the Bible should just be stories written by men, and pretty crappy examples of men too. Men who were adulterers, men who were murderers, and men who were both (David, the man after God’s own heart). Written a couple thousand years ago, in a different continent, in a different language, in a different culture. It should just be a religious book, with its thesis centered on a great guy whose main mission was to help the poor and heal the sick. Sometimes, when I find myself away from God for a long period of time, I think that maybe that’s true. I mean, in a completely rational way, it is true. It’s just a book of stories, written by men, who followed another man.

            It’s usually in those questioning times that I feel like I can hold it all together myself. I can rationalize my life, I can determine what I need to maintain a certain level spirituality, and I can go about my own business without letting God mess it up too much. But it always seems like at the end of every day, and the beginning of the next, I’m trying to grasp that next thing ahead of me, or looking for that one thing- that mysterious thing- that will complete me. I know deep down it is all the pursuit of vanity, and yet when I am on my own, doing it by myself, I cannot stop trying to continually fill the sieve that is my life. The days and months begin running into one another, and despite the abundant fortune I’ve been given with a job, a great wife, and amazing friends, I still feel I’m missing something.

            Then somehow I end up talking to a friend about God, or actually opening my Bible (once my allergies let up from all the dust I shake off) and reading, aloud, a passage to myself. And then I’ll do it again the next day. I’ll think about it a little more, and ask God to make me a better person, and help me to be Christ’s kingdom on earth, to be a light in a darkened world. Suddenly, things start falling away in a way that I can’t explain. I start to realize how weak I am, and all that I thought I had built on my own was no better than a couple cardboard stage props for a low budget one act play. I find I have more peace about the once seemingly significant struggles in life. I find myself allowing others more grace (i.e.  allowing the car in front of me one extra second of not moving at a green light before I slam my horn).

            Somehow, when I finally throw in the towel on myself and actually search for God in a non-half-assed way, I find him. I don’t know how it happens, but it just does, and because it does- because of that tangible life experience- I have no option other than to believe. I cannot build a completeness myself, and trust me- I try incredibly hard most of the time. As much as I want to guide this ship every damn day, I realize I can’t do it on my own. My compass’ true north is not true at all.  It is only when I sit back and survey my life as I run it that I realize I’m not at the helm of a sleek cruiser yacht, but I’m standing knee deep in water in a wooden sloop with about twenty holes from the rocks that I’m dashed upon. The same rocks that I dash myself upon about every other day, and sometimes for years at a time.

            But when I come back to God, when I let go of my pride that I love so much, he is still there, and he gives me all that I could ask for, as if I had never left. And he knows that probably at some point again I’ll go on a solitary me-myself-and-I-bender and forget the way he loved me in my darkest moments, how he told me that I am his, that nothing I do can separate me from the way he loves me and wants me to stay, just so that he can breathe life into my bones when they are so tired from running.

That is not something I just recite as religious liturgy. It isn’t proverbs or psalms or words written on a page. It is something that I feel in a gospel that comes to life, inside my life and the lives of so many others who are so much more in love with God than me, people who can only be described as walking miracles. Because it’s those people who make me realize that somewhere in those 2,000 year-old words written by men, the hope of Christ was made clear. So clear, that when read and believed, people who have been locked in decades-long struggles in the gutter of humanity have been pulled out into a new life. Addicts who have shaken horrific addictions are released from their turmoil because when Christ said, “All you who are weary, come and I will give you rest,” they believed those words and the person that said them actually followed through. It is the poor made rich, the blind made to see, and the dead raised to life.

            When I allow myself to realize that, the logical issues I have with the Bible seem to fade away in the light of its true power. I admit it is not a logical book, because its message isn’t logical. It doesn’t make sense that those who are poor in spirit will inherit the earth. A savior dying a horrible death so that murderers, rapists, drug addicts and me can be given a life of hope almost doesn’t seem fair. In those things, the beauty of Christ and his resurrection are made apparent. Nothing we do on our own, nothing we can try to figure out from those words will ever make sense in a rational way. We are asked of so little- to believe in a hope that has been given freely.  So that us at our best is a life of stumbling and falling and forgetting God and remembering him again, and that Christ loves us despite of that. That is the transformative power of God’s word, and that is enough for me to believe.

The Guns, The Big Guns, and The Screwed-Over Little Guys

        *Full disclosure: I am pro-guns. I don’t think an assault weapons ban will solve whatever social epidemic plagues us. I also don’t think that banning assault weapons would be the worst compromise ever, but I also don’t own one. I also don’t own a regular handgun, but that is mainly because I don’t have the money to buy one, although I would like to at some point in the near future. Basically, I’m middle of the road on all of this, but am open to both sides of the discussion, as long as it doesn’t involve irrelevant pie charts or gun violence graphs posted on Facebook.

I also have a friend who’s been a vendor at the Eastern Sports and Outdoor show for the last six years or so. He owns many guns and puts most hunters to shame because he derives most of his meat from deer he either kills with one arrow or a couple bullets (imagine that, being skilled enough to not need a 30-round clip to hunt). He’s also built his business from the ground up, starting it right before the recession, and nurturing it into a pretty stable business in a pretty unstable industry. I actually helped him at his display the first year he exhibited. This kind of show was crucial to his business in the beginning for a couple reasons: 1) it was local, as was his business, and 2) it jumpstarted the year and brought in many new customers and future customers.

Upon the cancellation of this year’s show, he will lose tens of thousands of dollars in revenue. 

Harrisburg, PA

I guess when I think about the Outdoors show in Harrisburg, I think of it as a tradition just like the Farm Show, one that annually falls only a few weeks after. It’s a lot of country in a little time. As a regular camper and fisherman, I always knew that the hardest fish to ever catch was the farm-raised trout in a liner pool, ignoring a piece of junk bait on the end of a 1-pound test and a glorified stick. There’s was a beauty in the fly-fishing seminars, in the way that the flick of the rod by a trained hand is just as mesmerizing in a convention complex as it is in Montana. Also, there was a beauty in the way the Skoal girls stood in front of the Skoal display, beckoning you to take a dip. Not as wonderful were the clever “Git ‘er drunk and git ‘er done” or “Calvin peeing on whatever truck wasn’t yours” stickers sold every ten feet. But of all the things I’ve remembered from the times I’ve been there, I’ve never remembered looking at Modern Sporting Rifles/assault weapons. Maybe it was just ignorance, but I never even really knew they were allowed there. But I do now.

            This year, the 50-year tenure of the Eastern Sports and Outdoor show will come to a close, for now. It’s the largest hunting and fishing show in North America, generating an estimated $74 million in revenues for exhibitors, small businesses, and not-for-profits, and $44 million for the struggling, poorly managed, and essentially bankrupt city of Harrisburg. The reasoning for suspending the show started a few weeks ago, but really, a month and a half ago, with the Newtown massacre. In the midst of the modern sporting rifle (MSR)/tactical assault weapon (pick your side, then your nomenclature) gray area that developed with that tragedy, the event organizer (UK-based Reed Exhibitions), decided to ban vendors from selling any MSRs or extended capacity magazines, as well as the promotion of either or both. In the wake of that announcement, vendors began pulling out by the bunches. First, the gun vendors, then over 300 more of the roughly thousand slated vendors. The hammer dropped when Cabela’s, the world’s largest direct marketer of outdoor goods, officially pulled out.

            In the case of Cabela’s, the move was brilliant. As the banner vendor at the Outdoor Show, their name has appeared in nearly every news story and every write-up related to the boycott. The money they stood to make at the show should easily rebound as their customer base’s loyalty level will soar higher than the craggy peaks of their in-store mountain displays. The same probably goes for Trop Gun shop in Elizabethtown, which is currently having a “Solidarity Sale” this weekend, giving away an AR-15 to a lucky person who brings in a receipt from any of the vendors that pulled out of the show. Gun shops around the country can’t keep their stock of MSRs, with some models on backorder for up to a year or two.

            This boycott was great for them, in that they stood up for their beliefs, and will still profit from them.

            Much of the boycott is focused on these vendors and the David vs. Goliath storyline, David as the true American rising up to defend his tribe against the tidal wave of reform bearing down on his God-given rights. They were the impetus that defended this half-century institution of east coast outdoorsmen, prying it from the hands of a nameless, faceless events organizer from across the Atlantic. It makes for pretty good news for both sides in this kind of post-Virginia Tech/Aurora/Newtown climate.

However, of all that’s been said about the 300-plus vendors that pulled out, whether good or bad, not much has been said about the 700 that didn’t. Without a doubt, many of these vendors would’ve liked to make a stand in favor of MSRs, because they either believed in it or knew their customer base would take the pro-boycott stance hook, line, and sinker. And probably swivel, leader, and pole. But that 10-day show is a lot of money, as much as some may generate in a couple months of business at their brick and mortar or online store. Taking a stance is one thing, losing a big chunk of your livelihood is another thing altogether. So instead of pulling out, they took the wait-and-see approach.

In the same way, if—God forbid—one of the many non-gun vendors sided with the MSR ban, as a logical business decision they couldn’t possibly announce their views publicly to a customer base that defends the Second Amendment like it’s their first-born son. A stance against the general consensus of your own customers would surely cement your place as next-in-line on the Second Amendment heretical chopping block.

In this situation, in the midst of a “with-us-or-against-us-issue,” the atom splits again, so that the whole things starts to look like a pyramid scheme of epic divisiveness. Pro-gun and not pro-gun. Beneath that, pro-gun, but not pro-assault. Further down, pro-boycotting, but not pro-boycotting and losing money. And so the boycott became a lopsided split comprised of those who voiced vehement demands, or those who stayed mum and hoped for the best.

Turns out, those hoping for the best got a good dose of the worst, from their fellow outdoorsmen, nonetheless.

Albeit, all of the blame for this loss shouldn’t be placed squarely on the boycotters—it is pretty crummy that the MSR ban was made known to them a mere two weeks before the event, after many of them booked plane tickets, hotels, over-stocked their goods, etc. In fact, it seems that Reed didn’t work much with the vendors at all in terms of communication, notification, or compromise. Prior to the current gun control debate, they heavily supported guns and shows of all kinds, and even managed the National Shooting Sports Foundation Shot Show, held two weeks ago in Nevada (note: although they manage this show, all policies and actions are made at the NSSF’s discretion.)

To that extent, surely some responsibility should be attached to Reed Exhibitions for their overarching hand in all of this. But consider this—they’re the world’s largest events organizer, with 500 events in 39 countries. They grossed over $1 billion in revenue last year. Most of their events aren’t attended by the typical Outdoor Show attendee who strolls the Pennsylvania Farm Show complex with a hunk of beef jerky in one hand and a spitter cup in the other, sticking around to catch the log-rolling competition in the Equine Arena. Many of the Reeds events around the world center around sustainable energy, biofuels, the entertainment industry, etc. In fact, Reed’s biggest show is MIPCOM- a five-day marketing and networking event for people in the TV and film industry. Held in Cannes, France, it attracts heads of large studios and networks, as well as the movers and shakers from across the cultural spectrum—from Facebook execs to the cast of hit television shows like Mad Men and The Walking Dead.  Out of all their North American shows scheduled for this year, it appears only two are related to in any way to guns or outdoor supplies. Their world isn’t Harrisburg, PA. It’s literally the world. And in that world outside of this world, MSRs aren’t as widely accepted as they are in Bucks or Perry County.

To put it another way, imagine this, as a corporate business owner:

You own a company that mostly sells fruits and vegetables all over the world. However, in Brazil, there’s a large contingency that eats meat, and loves it, and has always loved it since their country’s inception, since they produce some of the best meat in the world. You have a store in Rio that stocks and sells mostly meats. In the last fifty years, Brazil produced a strain of super meat that was very healthy to some people, produced more powerful flavors, and could be made in a variety of ways. In the hands of a good chef it is not inherently dangerous, but if it is not kept at the right temperature, or if handled by an irresponsible cook at a restaurant, it could poison all the customers sitting down to eat if it were put on the buffet that night. One day, this meat kills 24 people who had no idea it was even in that restaurant. Unfortunately, this incident happened six weeks before the biggest month for meat and super meat sales in Rio. During the interim, a social debate ensues, with a kind of ferocity that hasn’t been seen in nearly twenty years.

Questions arise. How do we know this super meat won’t accidentally get labeled wrong and cooked by a teenage kid with no training? Why can’t people be satisfied with the other meats that are generally delicious? Why is there such a focus on this super meat if it only killed a handful of people in comparison to the deaths of others who choked on the tougher kinds of meats? How can we make sure no one in a restaurant (not located in a poor, crime ridden part of the inner city) ever dies from this super meat again?

Despite the debate, most of Brazil still loves meat and is okay with most of it. Strict vegetarians don’t see the point, because their lives are fine without it. On the other hand, those who had a taste of this super meat, and who have working refrigerators with shelves high enough that their kids can’t reach it, are embittered. And so the fire rages, pulling back and forth between the super meat eaters, the normal meat eaters, the sometimes meat eaters, and the vegetarians.

Back to the store you own that sells the super meat. This store represents about a quarter of one percent of your total revenue globally. The majority of your other stores are okay with that store selling their normal meats, but on the other hand, many of the clientele and managers of those stores are diametrically opposed to the super meat. So, as the owner of a large corporation dealing with a lot of customers on the con side of the meat argument, you decide that sacrificing a small portion of your business will be better in the long run, for you and the majority of your customers. After all, it wouldn’t be prudent for you if the managers of your mega-stores in New York City and Los Angeles see that you’re allowing the controversial super meat to be sold in another store, and decide to shut down until you pull the meat from the shelves. This would be a huge revenue hit for you and for those local economies.

So for now, you decide the super meat should be banned from your stores in Brazil until the issue settles down a bit. The stores can still conduct business as usual otherwise. Some of the contracted in-store meat vendors will have to sell their super meat as street vendors, but will still make almost as much money as they would have selling in-store (if not more, since super meat loyalists will flock to them). In addition, all of the other employees will get to keep their jobs.

Except the management at that store thinks your business decision is violating their rights as all-around meat-lovers, who feel they should be able to eat whatever they want, whenever they want. So they refuse to come into work on account of your decision. As do half the cashiers, and twenty percent of the stockers. If you don’t support their eating habits, you won’t get their money.

Meanwhile, the people who are working as meat slicers want to keep their jobs because they need to provide for their families this month, and February is the busiest time of year for selling meats. Same goes for the bread bakers (Brazilians like bread for a side), who have no idea how they got wrapped up in this. But because so many people stopped working at the store, you can’t hire enough people to fill their spots and the other 70 percent of the workers who still wanted their jobs, are suddenly without work and an entire month’s paycheck. Not only that, but this poor section of Rio is hammered with losses in its struggling business sector (not to mention the down economy in Brazil as a whole), as their meat selection is one of the best in the country and people come from hundreds of miles away to visit here this time of year. Most of the tourists have little to no interest in the super meat, but enjoy the atmosphere of the store and the many other food offerings it carries.

Your store isn’t entirely pleased with this, but it’s barely going to move your bottom line this fiscal quarter. The big-time meat vendors just gained a ton of loyal meat customers for sticking up for their rights. Those people will come back again and again and buy from them. The ban on super meat in the Rio store might have been the best thing that happened to them to this quarter. All the other meat vendors have back orders and will be fine.

Back to reality.

The small archery store looking to jump-start their business in a slow January just suffered a huge setback for their 2013 profits. The fishing guide from Virginia lost possibly months worth of bookings this summer, and will have to crack other shows or regions with which they’re completely unfamiliar. The new business owner from Harrisburg who is trying to sell his innovative RV accessory won’t get an initial surge in revenue, and will struggle for the next year to get his company off the ground, if it even does.

It’s obvious Reed didn’t exactly play the role of the good guy in this disaster, but they’re also a large corporation pulling their PR puppet strings from an office across the Atlantic, so one can only expect so much in terms of cooperation and compassion. It also seems that the original boycotters merely wanted their voices to be heard in the beginning, to gain a little leverage and back Reed into a corner. They probably didn’t see it blowing up into the wildfire that it finally became, and the ensuing cancellation of the show for all involved.

In the end though, the boycotters aren’t exactly sticking it to the man on this one. There wasn’t much to gain for the smaller guys, although the larger ones will have a nice cushion of loyal customers following them through the ensuing arms desert, where lines will surely be drawn into the sand until the winds of some kind of change come along and change them once again. Unfortunately, the boycotters are joining in with Reed in sticking it to the man next to them in line at Bass Pro, the one who’s buying his compound bow there because the store down the street went out of business this year. There's even calls by some to release the names of the other 700, so people can boycott them (their own outdoorsmen family!), an act that would twist the knife even deeper.

There’s a reason when something major happens that affects other people, it’s called a trickle down effect. The river doesn’t typically surge upstream. In this case, it’s carrying a swift tide to those below, and for their sake, and the outdoors trade in general, let’s hope they’re not dashed on the rocks by a knee-jerk swell, for the mere purpose of making a statement.

Let’s hope the collateral damage isn’t so severe that we can’t enjoy this kind of show for years to come, without the controversies and soapboxing that can derail the main goal of these gatherings—to promote the outdoors and the many unadulterated pleasures it provides, without taking away from those who provide us the means to do that.