“Respect is Free.” Rest in Power Russell Lincoln Smith

 

Russell was a good man. He had a big smile to go along with his tremendous heart. One of his favorite sayings was “Respect is Free.”

For a long time that struck me as wrong. Somehow, I got the idea that respect had to be earned and to earn it certain expectations must be met. Many years have passed and much learning taken place for me to arrive at what Russell was talking about. We shared many tours together. Many hours of discussing the ills of the world. He took tremendous pride in his family and his native country of Belize. Yet for all the time we spent together, I never got to know much about him. I don’t recall many discussions about his life growing up, or how he came to be a New York City Building inspector. 

 

What I do know about him makes a world of difference to me. He and I shared much in common when it came to the importance of justice. In justice, there is respect for human life. Regardless of where you come from or who your parents are, all human beings are due respect and dignity for the sanctity of their very existence. This is the lesson I learned from a man who challenged my perception of the world with three little words. “Respect is free.”

People who value human life did not write the rules of earned respect. These rules evolved to maintain order. A particular type of order structured to keep human beings in a constant state of war. The people who believe in these rules, written or unwritten, have a vested interest in keeping them in place. It seems there is an impression that to lose or change these rules, something will be lost. My wife likes to point out that equal human rights are not like slices of pie. More for others does not mean less for you.

 

God Bless You Russell. You are part of the unforgettable fire. You will be missed.

 

 

 

Giving Voice on Netflix

 

There’s a headline for a story about the actor Johnny Depp on my feed about how he has become “radioactive in the business.” 

 

I ponder what if. What if he doesn’t care? What if he is over the fame and celebrity? What if he just wants to be.

 

What is it like to just “be”? No ambition to accomplish anything except the bare essentials of life? Food. Shelter. Love. No pressure to perform, to achieve, to produce…, or reproduce. Not living for pleasure…but experiencing the pleasure of living. Breathing. In and out with an audible breath like the gentle lap of waves upon a calm shore. The scent of sea-foam envelopes me. Sand and surf, sea-birds and dolphin, big open sky, horizon to forever.

 

 

 

Even when I lived in the big city, I felt isolated in my own mind. I would go places often alone and experience theatre. Just being in a Starbucks was an ever unfolding drama. Watching the detectives, oh, so cute. Watching the watchers like myself, just observing. Sipping, noshing, writing in longhand, navigating their laptops, or simply staring out of the window as sun creeps slowly from behind gray clouds. Watching the baristas work, the nanny’s work, watching the business people conduct business like leading  an orchestra, yet only they hear the music.

 

I was working too. Working on my thoughts. Working on figuring things out.

 

The other night we watched Giving Voice on Netflix. A beautiful documentary about the August Wilson Monologue Contest. So rewarding to see a specific kind of meaningful impact that an artist and playwright has on his audience. It transcends the proscenium, reaches beyond enclosed spaces of  auditoriums, enters into the mind and heart of both observer, and observed.

 

Wilson completed his brilliant Century Cycle by the time he was 60. In it, he captures the timely and the timeless of not just the Black experience, but of human experience in totality. This contest inspires the next generation of not only theatre artists, but the next generation of leaders, advocates, and most important, dreamers. People who envision a future where we can all live together and share each other’s pain as well as joy. Aid and revel in each other’s struggle and success. 

 

“Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.”

 

This documentary creates no illusions. The odds against success in the arts are formidable, yet in the process, great life lessons are offered and received to anyone daring enough to take that leap. Near the end, Denzel Washington makes a simple, yet profound comment on fame, fortune, and success. He asks simply, “What does that even mean?” And in his simple statement is an empowering message. 

 

That one decides for one’s self what that means.

 https://www.netflix.com/title/81290388