January 6th, 2021 thousands, upon thousands storm our Nation’s Capitol face paint, horns, Trump flags, and MAGA merchandise doom, damn, and torch America for those that freely voted long lines, masked death and dying their loved ones in hospitals nurses, doctors, essential workers and our police all races, colors, and creeds scream in sacrificial love as the mask-less, Proud storm for their king; “Patriots,” he knighted while the King of all whipped stripes of leatherbound, rock, metal, and glass violence ripped in rage, gouging back, flesh, deep Blood screaming to the Father as they spit with vomit spew, “CRUCIFY HIM, CRUCIFY HIM!!”
my wife is wailing on the couch beside me, “NO, NO, they can’t be doing this!” and as a plexiglass shield and wood shaft breaches what fools like me and you call, “Freedom” a Jesus banner sags and flops on the Capitol wall gasping for breath,
“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
I’m deeply saddened in some family, friends and Americans that call themselves, Christians and in the gale winds of cultural upheaval with so many looking to them for direction they still choose to carry two flags; Politics and Jesus
and with windy, divided identity they’re blown off balance wrapped and tangled, whipped poles, flags and legs twisted they stumble, fall, hit the dirt choking rolling, rolling, downhill choking STOP
facedown in the powdered dust, last gaping breath sucking earth, spitting, cough, puff,
This autobiographical poem would have never existed had it not been for my good friend, Mike Freeman. I have known Mike since 2016 because of a wonderful program for high-risk youth called, “Zedbridge Make a Difference (zMAD)” that we were involved in. zMAD was a 40 hour leadership program that ran in the summers of 2016 and 2017 that our friend, Rajiv Patnaik started. Working with Rajiv, Mike, Carol Wertz, and Andy Mills as educators oh, how we worked to develop such lasting relationships with one another, our teenage students and other professionals in our community! I digress… Mike Freeman and Tyler Goold have a podcast that they started in June, 2020 entitled, “The Richest Man in Town” (https://rmit.buzzsprout.com/1018270). As in the classic movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life” Harry Bailey toasts his brother, George (played by Jimmy Stewart) as “the richest man in town!” that speaks to “rich” as not financial wealth, but qualities in bold and humble character that money surely cannot buy!
Having worked with me, Mike graciously pronounced me rich and so he asked to interview me with Tyler, on the Richest Man in Town; an honor of a lifetime. One of the questions Mike asked me right off was “Can you give me an “elevator speech” version of who you are?” Well, I sang a short elevator stop version of James Taylor’s, “Secret O’ Life” and then let Mike know that the elevator was in a full electrical shutdown and…. my autobiographic poem was born! Welcome and thanks for taking the time to read it.
Time Slowed Sweet
oldest of five boys and a sister to Stan and Gerry Mitchell
a geeky-kind kid, could have sworn I was being chased by girls as the 5th Beatle in “A Hard Day’s Night”
I even had a set of racing stripes on my 1963 Rambler in high school that had no reverse or 2nd gear, “You’ve Got a Friend”- Lory, my girlfriend man, she had real upper body strength to help push my car out of parallel parking jams
I was the life of the party at Chico State until drinking took the life out of relationships cars, and me clinging to God writing poetry and posting it on my dorm door connecting and learning from others about their lives and mine evolving
Europe for six months in ’76… Michelangelo, Vincent Van Gogh… and two girlfriends one in Switzerland and the other, Berkeley paint-flying-adventure in color splashed some beyond recognition and others photographs of David, the Pieta, crystal clear and a self portrait of a bearded -waft- pipe-smoking-man out ah window, right-hand drive Mini Cooper Edinburgh, Scotland click
jump to 1987 and I married my dearest friend, Julie and to Weaverville, God’s creation, working with artists and then through the greatest artist, Jesus, I was born again on the road to Trinity Center
two lovely children Blessed, Olivia and Taylor “Oh, how life flew by together” just the two of them in our VW bus and me summer vacation to Gold Bluffs Beach
time slowed sweet, as the bus forever crawled up Buckhorn Summit 60 horsepower Olivia, much more horsepower then that and at the age of 20, “Poppie, I just can’t play Candy Land one more time…” and “Ahhhh…” groaned Taylor at 16 still holding onto nostalgia and memories Cracker Jack’s clinging, smashed to our bums, “You guys wanna play another game?”
And in conclusion on the elevator here now, Lord Jesus and my loving family, Grace Abounds
missing my Mom & Dad
and after 30 years of teaching, still bubbling with laughter and joy my former students now in their twenties spot and bolt to stand in front of me in a Target and a bit shocked I jump with a Medicare hop,
“Remember me, Mr. M., remember my first name, my last… ahh come-on, Mr. M!!!” Smiling they wait for what seems like hours and on a stage of old I remember, every once and a while, their name will boldly proclaim what their eyes spoke so clearly before…
“Levi?” “Yep”, he beams and as natural and free as an eagle soaring he quips, “Yah, know, Mr. M., you look a lot better than I thought you would!”
And, “Yep”… it just doesn’t get much better than that.
As stated in my opening, “Rust Never Sleeps” this poem came as a result of a sever hangover and with years of the tugging-battle, “Just three beers, hold it to a six pack, just nine…” and failure after failure I knew I was out of control. In my own case I would get drunk once a week, maybe it was once every two weeks, but I had no ultimate control of my drinking and my addictive behaviors. To not go to the depths of the car I loved and totaled, the cars I damaged. or most importantly the risk I put on myself and others was driving myself into the ground.
There were many turning points along the way, but one that had a great impact on me came in a book entitled, “Courage to Change” by Dennis Wholey. In that book was a recovering testimony through alcoholic, Grace Slick, the lead singer of the Jefferson Airplane, later to be Jefferson Starship. She simple and profoundly stated, “If you think you have a problem, you probably do.” That was a light switch that remains to this day and whether it is with my daily sobriety or behaviors that need personal or relational reflection and change… “Problem. What are you going to do about it?” remains. Through the grace of the Lord and through my own step-by-step work, and often with help from others that love me, continue Living. As with Grace Slick’s quote and revelation, welcome to the bottom of the bucket for Steven Mitchell in January of 1986:
The Neil Young album, “Rust Never Sleeps” was released in 1979. The name of that album never left me and years later, as I worked with a non-profit organization called zMAD (Zedbridge Make a Difference), a leadership academy for at-risk kids, “rust never sleeps” started percolating. Too, I had a classic VW bus that I was restoring at the time that was in the body shop for close to nine months and again and again my main body man, Lavant would ask… With the depth of this rust it looks like we need to cut it out and weld in new metal, Steve… On this one, we could fix the dent and with just surface rust we could get by with bondo, primer and paint… What do you want to do?
From there the concept of rust never sleeping came back and I started developing a slide presentation for our zMAD kids with photos and questions that I posed to them after giving them a scientific explanation of rust:
“Without using names,” I would ask, “what kinds of rust do you have in your life or in the lives of others that you know that needs to be cut-out completely, because as you know, rust never sleeps…”
“Certain friends, because we always get into trouble when we are together…” “Drugs”, “Sex”, “Social media” “Pornography”… they easily and transparently would continue far beyond anything I thought they might ever share…
We’d then turn the next corner and I’d ask, “What kinds of habits, attitudes or lifestyle choices do you see in your own life or in the life of another where dents and surface rust might be removed, bondoed, sanded, primed and painted?
“My negative attitude, I keep putting myself down, and I know that doesn’t help” “Supporting my friend with a text or a phone call to bring them up in a tough time” “Asking for forgiveness or bringing myself to forgive another that I have wronged…”
And in my Christian faith and because I am a recovering alcoholic of 32 years I have presented “Rust Never Sleeps” to the wonderful folks of the Good News Rescue Mission here in Redding.
I read my poem, “Flesh Bucket” and immediately following there is a very audible sigh… “Would anyone like to share, briefly where does that take you?” Many remain silent, some respond with wonderfully, powerful testimonies and then I eventually continue… “Here in the back of my MGB-GT I took the woman of my dreams, Julie (that I have been married to for well over thirty years…), cross country skiing for our first big outing. At the same time I was falling head-over-heels-over-her I wrote, ‘Flesh Bucket’. One year into our marriage and with Julie’s steadfast love and God’s love, grace and mercies anew I quit drinking and still to this day, one day at a time, like you, I move forward in wonderful sobriety.”
To my family, friends and readers I may know or never may know – “Welcome!” May your rear view mirror of shame and guilt be made smaller with each passing post and the grace and love of God make the windshield of our lives expand, panoramic, as far as the east is from the west!
Rust Never Sleeps 