Published November 7, 2009
I’m not a baseball fan—I’ll give you that. Still, I'm also not an anti-fan. I care if my son’s favorite teams win (which means the Red Sox and anyone playing the Yankees) and I like the Angels—because Reggie Willits is a real live angel, that’s why. (See caption at right for proof of this fact.) But no, I didn't watch the 2009 World Series. I did hear it, though; and I heard a lot about it.
Back in 1967, according to Google Answers, the average pro baseball player made around $6000 a year. In 2000, the average salary for the same job was $1.9 million. But get this. The median household income in 1967? Around $33,000. In 2000? Approximately $45,000. So, let’s just make this simple. In 1967, a pro ball player made one-fifth of his annual income playing ball; he made the rest some other way or he slipped below the average. Today, a ballplayer makes enough for his family plus 41 other families to live at the level of the common folk. (These numbers are, of course, for salaries, and don’t include income from commercial endorsements. I think we can assume there were no such things back in the 1960’s.)
Then there are the ads. An ad for this year’s World Series ran, on the low side, $100,000 for a 30 second spot. These ads tried to get you and me to buy stuff: stuff or services, we can’t afford because we don’t make $1.9 million, but that we will pull out our plastic and purchase because we think we will be better off if we have that which is advertised. (Also, perhaps, a discussion for another time.)
All this is appalling, but I heard something today that absoflippinglutely blew my mind. If you watched the World Series you noticed that during the game, little banners ran across the top of your screen pulling your eyes away from the batter. Stats of the player? Details about the game? NO! Another dadgum advertisement. You get this right: the $100,000 and up for the actual commercials was not enough! They needed more. What in the Sam Hill?
I don't care how much a person likes baseball. This is crazy.
Greed. It’s a nasty business.
And [Jesus] said to them, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” Luke 12:15 (NRSV)
(In the words of my preacher friends, "That'll preach.")
As a parent volunteer, I have often tutored kids for whom English is a second language. Such was the case a few years ago when I was working with a young Russian boy who was a student at my children’s elementary school. One day, we were working on adjective/noun constructions. He had written a story about building "a house from snow." I gave him some examples of the preferred English structure.
"If you build a house from brick, you call it a brick house. A house from stone is a stone house. A house from clay is a clay house. Is that clear?”
He nodded, eyes bright with new awareness.
Ahh, the joy of teaching: of shining the light of information into the darkness of ignorance. How much better off would this child be because I, the educated one, had taken time from my all-important schedule to stoop to his level of academic neediness, bringing him this nugget of knowledge? Surely his life was now changed forever because I had shared my gift of teaching with him.
Energized, I pressed on. "Great. So if a house from brick is a brick house and a house from stone is a stone house, what would we call a house from snow?"
He smiled and with great confidence he answered, "Igloo!"
Have you noticed all the half-priced candied hearts and discounted chocolates? Ahha. It must be February. February: Valentine’s Day, President’s Day and Dental Health Month! I wonder. Did America’s dentists choose this month because we eat so much chocolate, or because George Washington’s teeth were notoriously unhealthy? The world may never know.
In any case, I’m thinking more about truffles and petit fours than toothbrushes and presidents, how about you? Chocolate. It’s everywhere. No longer content to be confined to the candy shelf, in February, Chocolate struts its stuff on every aisle in every store. It sprawls out over office desks, offering free pleasure to all who will take and eat. Shameless!
So what’s a sweets-freak like me supposed to do when Chocolate starts putting on the moves? Tell you what I want to do. I want to jump headlong into the waiting arms of the tempter: gorgeous, luscious, sweet-talking Chocolate. Chocolate accepts me just the way I am. It doesn’t care if I add a Hershey bar to each hip every hour. It never asks me to limit my portions. Never. Instead, Chocolate says, “Have just a little bit more. It’s okay.” Who could resist?
Meanwhile, there stands Healthy Choices. HC says, “I love you just the way you are too. And I love you too much to let you abuse yourself.”
I don’t want to hear it.
HC persists. “I’ll take long walks with you. I’ll keep you company when you plan your meals and when you do your grocery shopping.”
Chocolate’s melting, looking a little weepy.
HC stands taller. “Come on, let’s grow young together.”
And so we live happily ever after. Occasionally we even enjoy the company of our friend Chocolate, a real sweetie who I like to visit, as long as Healthy Choices comes with me.
I've been wanting to start a blog for a long time and finally figured out how to do it. Yay me. I got busy getting this done so that I could blog while I'm in Israel--May 12-24, 2008.
So stay tuned! More to come.
Blessings and all that,