Groucho

Groucho

I'm old enough to remember the Marx brothers, particularly Groucho and his television program, “You Bet Your Life.” Groucho is best known for saying that he would not belong to a club that would have a member such as he. Now, one of the many private clubs in London is called, “Grouchos.”

This poor farm boy knew nothing about private clubs, civic clubs, country clubs, even clicks. In the home and community at which I was reared we knew only about God, family and country. Our family life revolved around the church house and school house, and so it had always been. My grandparents and parents had attended small, two room, country schools. The church was real, Christianity was real. The country school where I attended 12 grades, graduated 13 in my graduation class. We had REAL teachers, I love them all. Back then, my 5^th grade teacher, Ms. Buffalo, made 85 dollars a month. Teaching like preaching was a calling. Money did not enter the equation.

Then, I entered the university and for the first time in my young life, discovered exclusive clubs, elitist people. College social fraternities were a real mystery to me, as I walked by the “frat houses” on campus. Just what went on in those places? Why did the “frat men” feel they were superior to the rest of us, with their little pins on their cashmere sweaters, their convertibles, their “rush” weeks, their “BMOC” attitudes, wherein they got special attention from University officials-professors. One of these young men lowered himself to become my friend. His father was a superior court judge. He told me that the University had special intermediaries to make sure the sons of the state's elite were well treated at the University.

Then, I discovered other type clubs, Masons, Moose, Elks, etc. I remembered as a child, back seat of our Chevrolet, passing a large country club, grown men in strange outfits, hitting a small ball. My father had explained that these men were the rich, playing golf in their special clothing. He had said, “They are better than the rest of us.” I can only imagine what the black people thought as they witnessed this display of humanity in every area of their life, separate toilets, separate water fountains, unable to eat in public places, separate waiting rooms at the doctor's office, unable to even try on a pair of shoes or other article of clothing which they purchased with the same color money as others.

Then, having experience, elitism, in academic circles, I received my military commission as a medical officer. At each assignment, an officers club. The entitlements-benefits of selection, the result of your time and cramming for achieving academic success. Anyone can become a member of this club, it is a result of your own ambition, unlike, the military academies (West Point, Army, Navy, Air Force, etc) where appointment is due to politics. Have you ever known a boy or girl from a poor-insignificant family to get a military academy appointment? Senator McCane's father was a naval officer, so was his grandfather (admirals). Study every appointee to a military academy, all made by congressional representatives, all due to politics, exclusivity from the world's most exclusive club, the congress of the United States. The officer wearing his insignias because of hard work is never accepted by the officer's who got theirs by political appointments. The officer, first in the enlisted ranks, particularly one of a darker skin color, never fully recognized by those with congressional influence. This officer learned this the hard way, his first “orders.” I was assigned to the infirmary in New York City but another doctor, better breeding-better looks-better congressional influence, got his orders to Korea changed to NYC and mine to Korea. The “big I, little you” mentality even in a Democratic Republic, still alive and well. It is still the sons and daughters of the poor and disenfranchised who go to the front lines.

Then, traveling the world, ever learn that it is who you know, not what you know. “Money talks.” I was staying at Hong Kong's great Peninsula Hotel, a medical associate from New York's, father living in Hong Kong assisted on meeting me. He asked me to be his guest at his “club” in Hong Kong. It was there, perhaps more so than any of the exclusive upper-east side clubs, where I had been a guest in Manhattan (Harvard club, etc.) that I witnessed how the rich and famous are treated. At these exclusive clubs for the elitist, men are pampered like pets. One of my friends of long ago, assistant to a congress person, had told me how congressman are pampered at their clubs and I had heard how the power shakers of the world, men of wealth and influence, are pampered in their clubs. I felt a little like Judas, one of our blessed Lord's disciples who betrayed him and we have no record that he was ever saved, confused about the “waste” with the alabaster box. The time when Mary, broke an alabaster box and anointed the feet of our blessed Lord (Mat 26:7). And, anytime I see adult men pampered simply because they can afford to pay the price, OR, are, the winners of life's lottery, I think of REAL men like my father, his ancestors before him, covered with dirt and sweat. Other REAL men of the world, building families, cultures, from REAL work, the many REAL soldiers buried on foreign soils who too, had only one life to live. WHY THE DESPARATY?

Then, there were the private, exclusive clubs located in hotels, oasis' hedged from the problems of the world's poverty. I think of the Bangalore Club in Southern India, a product of colonial England. When I was there, tiger skins on the walls, moth eaten, but still the prestige of the place was strident. On the west coast of Africa, Benin, millions of African's living like animals in huts above water, just miles from exclusive hotels built from the oil money of their nation. Perhaps there has never been, in any place, the exclusivity, partisan to Western civilization of the clubs in London, England. The most famous, Whites, traditional gentleman's club founded in 1693, probably the world's most famous gentleman's club known for its etiquette. When this writer was there, almost embarrassed to mention it, a member said to me, I was in a fleet street restaurant yesterday and who should be there but Monica Lewinsky, who “serviced” your President.

Then, just yesterday, this old, blind veteran was polishing the wood work in the lobby of an office building, an office complex which he owns. A lady came out of one office and commented about my work, even sent me an email later in the day, complementing me for still working at my age (82). Little did she realize that I am a member of a very exclusive club. One who is grateful for everyday. Grateful to work in buildings which I have been blessed to own. Grateful to have the continued faith and knowledge of being chosen-elected as a joint heir of Jesus Christ, the creator of the world and everything in it. (Romans 8:17)