The Greatest American Hero

For months I have held off on writing anything explicitly related to the death of my father. For one thing, no one in their right mind should want to express such deeply emotional experiences to the impersonal void that is the internet. But beyond that, his death affected my views on people and society in such a profound way that I felt like referencing it might come off as, and in fact may be, a cheap way of exploiting his demise in order to bolster the emotional context of my writing rather than appealing to rational argumentation. But in fact, it is that same drive to protect both reason and his memory that motivated me to write this blog.

I became an atheist and left the pulpit it because I came to understand that the material universe in which we live is all that there is. Our existence is not a preamble to something more awesome upon death. This is it - this is our chance to live, our chance to shine. Nothing else is relevant. Some may still cling to escapist fantasies because they are disatisfied with life but that doesn't change the fact the material universe is all that there is, all that ever has been, and all that ever will be. It may change shape and density but no supernatural force guides it.

When my dad, Charles Barrett Porterfield, died he didn't go to wait for me in some mystical dugout while I stepped up to bat - he simply died. The man that didn't get my jokes, the man that thought I was "crazy as hell" at times, the man that loved my mother, the man that sold his Jag so he could feed me and my brother, the man who loved the Braves, the man who was drafted to fight in Vietnam, the man who took me to see a battle royal at a skating rink, the man that thanked me for reaching out to him and looking after my mother didn't go to heaven, he didn't enter paradise, he simply died. If ever a man walking this planet deserved to be considered holy it was the man that put up with my shit growing up. But my father wasn't holy - he was simply an honest, hard-working man who used the same finite capabilities that humans possess to take care of his family. He contributed time and money to charites to help out other poor. He gave 100 mile rides to people with broken down cars. He would trim elderly people's hedges when his body still had the strength to do so. While some individuals claim to be experts on human dignity and compassion because followers call them "His Holiness" my father showed me what compassion was by the way he lived his life. He didn't offer prayers, he didn't read 'scripture' to people, and he never told anyone how to live their lives. My dad was a quiet man whose let the actions of his life teach me this lesson: if I want a better life, if I want a better world then I am the one responsible for making it happen. He was one of those crazy people, like myself, that believed that individuals matter and that the United States of America is the greatest place on Earth.

I'm an atheist liberterian and offer no apologies about this. I do not talk to an imaginary friend for guidance on my life or on how to make the decisions that will most benefit me and the world in which I live. Look at the actions of yourself and those around you and you will see that by and large people are overwhelmingly good. Despite the cries of religious propagandists people don't need to believe in fairy tales to know that murder and rape are wrong and that exhibiting concern for yourself and others is right. It is literally built into our genes and brains. Religious dogma may make you feel bad about fucking your wife while she's on her period but the reality is that most of us are benevolent and it's time that we recognize that. We all take steps to improve things in our lives and few of us go out of our way to harm others around us.

Despite this reality religion thrives on perpetuating myths and ideas that we are broken, mishapen, evil creatures that must defer to something "greater" or at least different than ourselves in order to fix this overstated malady. It has been historically demonstrated - from the god-emperors of Japan to the the Divine Right of European kings to the God of Freedom in the Bush administration - that you can convince large populations to follow you if you but claim supernatural blessings to your cause. You don't need proof or statistics or data - you only need statements of mystic guidance and you can take a position of leadership. And all of it is predicated on lies.

Throughout Barack Obama's campaign I heard him quoting from the Sermon on the Mount, discussing his faith in God, beseeching us to faithfully buy into an illusory thing he called "hope". T-shirts sold at corner gas stations were brazened with his quote, "I'm asking you to believe." During yesterday's Inaugaration how many goddamned prayers were offered by people described as "controversial" because of their ideology and not because they can pretend to speak to magical, fantasy characters while keeping a straight face? Barack is just a man, a famous man who looks great in a bathing suit, true, but still just a man. I'm glad that my niece and nephews, who are themselves African-American, will be able to see a black individual in the news who isn't a preacher, entertainer, or sports star and that this may help break down many of the devisive walls that we separate ourselves with. But believe me, President Obama is no gift from heaven or a prophet of god. He's ambitious, intelligent and talented but he's just a plain old Homo sapien like all of us.

Which brings me back to my father. A lot of people have found a new hero to 'believe' in. I had a hero and he is no longer alive. As sad as that may be, I remain optimistic about my own life and the rest of the world. Nothing is promised to us so we must be grateful for every day and every moment we have in life. The internet (and the birth city of my father and myself) is filled with a lot of smug assholes who think that because they support the politics of a new president rather than an outgoing president that they have demonstrated moral fortitude. My father voted for Reagan and both Bushes. Had he lived he would have voted for McCain. He and I disagreed on many social and political issues but I always maintained my respect for him because, even when he was wrong, he was a man who loved his family, his country, and his friends. I am humbled by his memory for he was the greatest man I have ever known.

And now, Mr. President and supporters, I let you have your celebration. Consider yourselves on notice.;)