What did Frodo learn on the way to Mordor? A lesson we all could learn...

“Days of Our Lives: Following her hearing, Lexie was sentenced to probation, community service and mental counseling. She left the courthouse vowing revenge, which started when she sued the hospital. Colin is working with Tony, with their goal to get Tony installed as head of the DiMera house. Jack and Bo formed an alliance to expose Colin and Tony. No one believed Belle and Shawn’s claim that they had encountered aliens after the meteor crashed, but the strange beings stowed away in their truck. Billie phoned someone, explaining that Bo won’t find out she’s back until she wants him to know. Coming: Nicole tests Victors commitment.”

- From Scopin’ the Soaps, Sunday, July 14, 2002, a feature of Tribune Media Services. Scopin’ the Soaps, Sunday, July 14, 2002, a feature of Tribune Media Services.

Walking through the halls of nursing homes, I routinely hear the sounds of the daytime soaps . Normally, however, the televisions are just on. No one’s listening. It’s just sound; probably, a conspiratorial attempt to mock the silence of the place. Or, perhaps the yelling.

Meanwhile, outside, just down the street, those who have avoid nursing homes, are busy watching the soaps for real. So involved are these folks that week in and week out national newspapers recapitulate the latest comings and goings, alliances and dalliances, tragedies and triumphs, of each soap’s miscreants and heroes. Millions watch these stories. So intense are the goings-on that viewers must be updated in case they had to momentarily step away. Which is why we posted the weekly update above!

Without being trying to be insulting, I wonder: Do these soap watchers have a life of their own, a self-possessed story? The name of one of the longest running soaps, “One Life to Live,” begs an important question: Who’s life will it be? Will it be ours or a character’s on television? Undoubtedly, there are folks so confined, disabled, that there seems little else for them to do. I'm not really addressing these folks (although, I've met many such people, who in spite of great pain and disability, find some way to rise above their circumstances and make great stories).

The cliche, “Get a life,” says it pretty well. I think we have small lives, very small lives, indeed. The average story arc in modern society has become one hour, minus 20 minutes for commercials. It seems legitimate to ask, "Is this what I want to be my tale, my story?"

We're not just writing about television. We're writing about all the ventures that leave us feeling full of regret when we are preparing to complete life's story. If we have lived someone else's life, and not our own, then our own tale will likely have little meaning at life's conclusion. We will have lived a vicarious death.

What has happened to the great stories? Can we even tolerate the Great Stories?

Barb and I, and even Justin, my son, have enjoyed seeing Lord of the Rings at least six times. Others have shared our passion. The Lord of the Rings was released in mid-December, yet a couple of weeks ago, there was still a decent audience in the theater. We’ve ended up seeing it about once a month, right after we get fed up with the peevishness and triviality that embodies our current world view.

In the story (You have read it, or at least seen the movie, haven’t you?), Frodo Baggins, a short and harmless Hobbit, willingly enters a quest that involves nearly certain death, in order to bring an end to the evil Lord Sauron. Frodo is asked to give up the place that he loves the most, The Shire, for the Greater Good. His journey brings danger from both friend and foe, even sworn companions. Frodo pours out his deep sadness over all he has lost. When Gandalf replies to Frodo: “So it is for all those who have been called upon to bear great burdens. All you can do can is decide what to do with the time that you have left.” I feel that I understand Frodo’s pain and sadness. Yet, he decides that he must go on. When Boromir says, “It is long since we had any hope,” tears fill my eyes. Again, I understand. So do Justin and Barb and Tom and Sarah and many thousands of others. They understand what is is to have done some great mission with little pay, few thank-yous, and great personal sacrifice. And, that is the appeal of this movie. The story appeals to a hero deeply hidden in all of us.

A life well lived values substance above image, the transcendent above the temporal, greatness of soul above the “tyranny of the moment.” Justin’s going to be eleven next week. I pretty carefully screen the movies that Justin sees with me. But, this one he had to see. The truth is, if I can inculcate in my son a Frodo spirit, then I will have done my job as a Dad. I may fail in other areas, most certainly will. But this is one I want to get right. Mistakes are okay. Failures are certain. But the quest, the story, must go on.

Where have all the stories gone? It’s not that they’re gone. It’s just that they aren’t being told. Indeed, they have likely been dwelling in our hearts for years, itching to be heard and acted upon.

Stories require our time, energy and devotion. They require us to spend less time voyeuristically watching an actor's story, and more time creating our own. In short, they require continual nurture. And maybe that’s the real problem. We have neither the time nor the energy to create our own story. It’s work and leisure, taking turns constantly, with Maslow’s other needs sparsely interspersed, just enough to keep us in the jails of our mediocrity.

When was the last time we took a risk, stepped out beyond the timid boundaries that define us? When was the last time that we stood up for a cause that required us to take an unpopular position? When was the last time that we started on some surprising and engaging new direction, something that served a calling higher than ourselves? It is only in these kinds of undertakings that good and great stories are fertilized, conceived, born and bred. Real quests die at the hands of mediocrity and sameness.

Story-making is not just smelling the roses, it’s planting them.

With All Our Love,
Mike and Barb
ElderHope.com

Originally published in 2002.