Breakfast of Champions, The Muad’dib & Hospital Visits

Thursday last I ventured with an older gentleman to some local hospitals. We called on the elderly and infirm in hopes to raise their spirits. This guy’s a pro—he’s been doing this for years, visiting sick people in the hospital, praying for any who request it, listening to them ramble about stories of the old country or of one of the many wars, always with a broader smile than I can invoke on my face, the kind of smile that gets both eyes, your nose and your teeth involved. That smile cheers them up more than anything, people who have nobody or few somebodies to come and visit them when they fall or get an infection or go through surgery or when their mind starts to wonder why it keeps wandering. Hold that thought…

Breakfast of Champions I can recommend to those of you who enjoy Vonnegut, can stomach pessimism and who understand satirically symbolic uses of sex or violence. If you answered “no” to two or more of those, probably go read something else after this post. Thing is, summarizing Vonnegut falls somewhere between summarizing Monty Python and summarizing The Taming of the ShrewI cannot possibly show what really happened. Regardless, Vonnegut employed, yet again, the theme of every life counts. He takes every character and ventures off to tell their story until we know enough for him to tack a colossal etcetera or “and so on” to the end of their tale, the attention-deficit version of storytelling. Through this, he forms one thought: all of us or none of us are the main characters of life’s story. The good side of this theme is that he values every human life. The bad side of this is that he devalues (some might argue “deconstructs”) the notion that there are significant, wholesome characters in the epic we call “history.” I tend to think, for instance, the world has hated few men more than Adolf Hitler. I also think few people have been more loved in history than people like Ghandi, Momma T, Dr. King and, of course, Jesus. I agree with him but perhaps disagree with some of his delivery. For the time, let’s work with what Father Kurt and I agree with—valuing every human life. Hold that thought too…

I also read book two of Herbert’s Dune this weekend—the Muad’dib. About halfway through, I realized that I wasn’t reading book two, only part two of Dune. Why yes, my people, I do in fact feel like a moron. Technically, I’ve yet to finish Dune. Thought it was a trilogy in one volume, but turned out to be a really really really long sci-fi novel. Oh well, more fun for me. Paul develops his prescience in this part, something Herbert displays in dream-like vision sequences. Paul’s mind opens up and sees every possible path from a given situation, helping him empathize with people yet to be born. Through this, he navigates present danger and future apocalypse alike.

You know, I’ve tried to live the kind of life that helps other people. I’m not patting myself on the back here, ride with me for a second…

READ NEXT:  The best really short stories

What I mean is, I have friends that do better at investing in the next generation than I do—investing in youth or mentoring relationships. They’re more like Paul, they see coming dangers and invest in the future now. Me? I’m a bit more like Vonnugut who shows up as a broken character in his own broken story. I’ve always had friends in crisis. One goes through a divorce before thirty, one loses all faith in God, one goes to prison, one gets chewed up by a church, one goes on a long bout with drugs only to walk a painful road to recovery, one nearly gets arrested for dealing, one gets married and a month after his honeymoon his wife developed leukemia. I struggle with the mentoring thing, but deep down I think I’ve been there for friends in crises. Especially back when I worked at the hospital.

More than this, I’ve always thought about checking in at a nursing home and collecting stories from the dying, help them spread the word about their lives, help others see how even dying lives matter. Those nursing homes are our houses of the dying, by the way. We put people there. We stay away unless we land a job at a home or if we’re trying to hang around grandma and land a stake in her will. We fear death, the look of death and hope to be forever twenty-one. There’s another way, a harder way but a better way. We could face death, spend time with the dying, hear their stories.

A couple of years ago, I started collecting stories for story our life. I’ll write a post on it sometime. In the midst of that, Grandma Schaubert wrote me her life story and my Grandpa Jerry’s life story. I wept when I read them—their struggles at twenty-five were pretty much the same as my own, and they turned out okay. I asked my Great Grandmother Della McCormick about our family past, she and my Grandpa Deano Bubba started telling stories about different relatives—Pentecostal preachers and murderers who got out of prison in two years, simple farmers and great businessmen, all valuable lives, even the one who didn’t value life.

I guess what I’m saying is I’m looking forward to hospital calls on Thursdays. I’m looking forward to spending time with the wounded and forgotten human lives that changed the course of history. I’m looking forward to being a character in their broken stories.

After all, that’s probably what I’ve liked doing all along.

PS> How do sick or dying people make you feel?


Be sure to share and comment. And subscribe.

Comment early, comment often, keep it civil:

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  1. Jess Smart Smiley

    Lance – this is a great post! I play music (mostly by myself), and started a tradition several years ago that’s really become something that I look forward to each year. I take my guitar and a friend or two, and we visit the hospital during the month of December, playing Christmas carols, for those who will hear us. It always touches me and I’m usually the first one to tear up. Whenever I play, I get a real sense for how much we need each other. That every life does count. Thanks for the reminder 🙂

    1. lanceschaubert

      Well thank you, Jess. That’s awesome! We did something like that in college and the stories… the stories of these people. And we lose tons every year because we neglect and ignore.

      Yeah, I feel you. Those moments move me too. They do. And you’re welcome.

  2. SitOnTheCat

    Reblogged this on SitOnTheCat and commented:
    Any with a piece of KV is good for me! I like this post a lot; thank you.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Thanks so much for the reblog! Glad you liked it. And thanks for stopping by.

  3. SitOnTheCat

    Great post, as a Vonnegut fan I was very interested in your ‘Champions’ take on things. Thanks
    Matt

    1. lanceschaubert

      Well thanks, sotc. It was, as is most of Kurt’s stuff, hilarious and profound at once.

  4. Lancelot Schaubert

    Coming back here to say that hospital calls ended up being some of the more valuable things I did back then. I’m going this week on hospital calls to a film and theater director / producer who is 77 and knowing what to do in that room while everyone else is standing around awkwardly has been invaluable.

    What about you?

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

Please comment & share with friends how you prefer to share:

Follow The Showbear Family Circus on WordPress.com

Thanks for reading the Showbear Family Circus.
  1. "I think you can write about yourself without the vain, self-focused naval gazing. Good storytelling is a gift from writers…

  2. "His fans didn’t just write fiction about it. One calculated the tensile strength of the material it was made of.…

  3. My mother was the volatile Italian and my dad was the calming influence when things went awry. Dad was our…

  4. Lancelot, thank you, for that congrats, but I fear that continues my jinxed lament - that the late Andy Warhol…

Copyright © 2010— 2023 Lancelot Schaubert.
All Rights Reserved.
If we catch you using any of the substance of this site to train any form of artificial intelligence, we will prosecute
to the fullest extent permitted by any law.

Human children and adults always welcome
to learn bountifully and in joy.