Xavier Bishop

I had lunch with my friend Skippy recently and before our food could arrive the conversation turned to healthcare reform.

Skippy vehemently opposes virtually all efforts to reform the healthcare system, citing the Federal Government’s inability to do anything right except defend our country.

I reminded him that it wasn’t long ago the healthcare debate was whether employers should fund healthcare for their employees. Labor unions wanted it and were called anarchist when they made it part of contract negotiations.

Now most employers provide some type of healthcare for their employees and we take employee “benefits” for granted in much the same way we take for granted the 8-hour workday and safe working conditions.

My point simply was that no matter how radical we perceive healthcare reform, chances are in 5, 10 or 20 years, we will have forgotten the debate and wonder what the fuss was all about.

As Skippy sat across from me extolling the virtues of a free market solution to solving the healthcare crisis, I couldn’t help but wonder if we weren’t playing out our role as middle-aged Americans: Seeing change as such a radical departure from the past that it ought to be avoided. After all, wasn’t that what our parents did when they were our age?

On the other hand maybe this is how change takes place in a civil society: Some people promote it, while others resist it. We argue, fight and move on. Ultimately though, as history has shown us, change happens.

Franklin Roosevelt faced enormous opposition to creation of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, the Federal Crop Insurance Corporation, the Tennessee Valley Authority, the GI Bill of Rights and of course Social Security. Hard to believe at one time there was even opposition to public education. Today all of these programs survive as institutions and as a symbol of our nation’s maturation.

I remember the reaction in the late 50s and early 60s when the Federal Government weighed in on civil rights. At that time arguments were strong for and against the Federal Government playing a direct role in overhauling what most people agreed was a social justice system in need of radical reform.

The steps the Federal Government took to reform our social justice system and advance civil rights didn’t work flawlessly, nor did they produce a perfect outcome. Social justice remains in some ways a work in progress.

However most people would agree those seemingly radical steps taken more than 50 years ago produced a more just and inclusive society, and advanced our nation at home and in the eyes of the world, contributing to the dignity and pride that we feel as Americans.

So perhaps the debate over healthcare reform that’s being played out in restaurants, in the workplace and in the halls of Congress is a reflection of how our society prepares for change. Maybe the change we’ve been debating is simply a rite of passage for an evolving society, and part of our evolution as an advanced civilization. After all, if we can see the value of having public education, then why not public healthcare?

Casinos have had an enormous economic impact on the Coast. They’ve spawned considerable growth in all of the cities that have them. The rise of Biloxi as a Coastal superpower is directly linked to having casinos. So imagine what a casino could do for Moss Point.

By some estimates a casino in Moss Point would bring in revenues of around 4 – 6 million dollars per year. That’s because over 70% of the patrons who visit casinos in Biloxi travel through Moss Point and Jackson County to get there.

But current legislation makes it nearly impossible for Moss Point to ever have a casino. And there’s an effort in the general assembly to pass legislation that would limit the placement of casinos in the state to counties where they currently exist, effectively closing the door to the cities in Jackson County ever benefiting from casinos.

All of this goes a long way toward solidifying Biloxi’s status as the casino capital of the Coast, but more importantly it gives that city a virtual monopoly on casino revenues along the Coast.

Had the voters in Jackson County approved casinos we could have tried to place a casino somewhere in the county, but it would have been more practical to broker a partnership with Biloxi.

Consider this: In exchange for not having a casino in Jackson County (and thereby conceding casinos to Biloxi and Harrison County,) we could have sought a partnership agreement with Biloxi whereby we’d share the revenues generated by their exclusive right to casinos. Think about, we could have agreed not to have casinos in Jackson County, allowing hundreds of thousands of people to pass through to the casinos in Biloxi, and in exchange Biloxi would agree to share its revenue. That would have been a true win-win.

 Sound far-fetched? Maybe, maybe not. But by voting “no” to casinos in Jackson County, and with the governor certain to sign into law legislation that would limit casinos to counties where they already exist, all we’re left to ponder is the proverbial question: What if?

Bishop Family Top-Ten Tips for taking your vacation by car.   

1 – 2. TIME OUT. Unless you’re driving to take another form of transportation in order to complete your vacation, the first order of business is to let go of time. That’s right, ditch the clock.  Time is the driving force behind so much of our daily life the last thing you want to do is allow it to control your vacation too. Relax time’s control and mastery of your family.

Make plans to leave for your vacation at a particular time but if you’re “running behind schedule” don’t panic or become frustrated. Relax, you’re on vacation.  Enjoy the time you spend preparing to leave for your trip.  Make it all part of the vacation. It will help set the tone for the remainder of your trip.

3 – 4. ENJOY THE JOURNEY. Say your destination is to the mountains, the valley or maybe to the sea. No doubt you can’t wait to get there. On average, when traveling by car as much time is spent getting to the destination as there is often spent at the destination.  So relax and enjoy the ride. Not just the roadside, but also the places in between. All of the cities, attractions and landmarks that define our beautiful country.  

Try this, take an unexpected detour into a town you know little about and discover why people live there.  Make an unplanned stop by a landmark you come pass along the way. There are many little known landmarks that can leave you with wonderful memories and they also make the perfect backdrop for those must-have family portraits.

5 – 6. RELAX THE RULES. If you’re like me maybe you’re used to a high degree of structure and order in your life. For many of us it’s the secret for getting lots of different things done.  And if you’re like me you probably believe that structure and order can “benefit” nearly all areas of your life just as well. Not necessarily so when you’re on vacation.

Instead of treating vacation as your home away from home, do things differently. Just for the experience of it. If you normally eat pizza with a knife and fork, try eating it with your hands. Bend a little. Don’t be so rigid.

7-8. BE A FAMILY.  The average American family spends less than 2 hours per day interacting together as a family. A family vacation by car is a great way to get to know each other all over again. Don’t loose that opportunity by doing “private” activities like playing personal music devices, videos or even reading while traveling as a family. Set aside some of your drivetime for talking, listening and truly getting to know one another. And once you reach your destination, have as part of your vacation plan, sightseeing and visiting others together as a family. Rediscover the joy of living together.

9-10. LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION. Yes, getting to your destination is half the fun. But make certain where you’re going to is worth it – for everyone. Choose a destination that others in your family will want to go to.  Make certain there are activities that will satisfy everyone’s needs, even the youngest member of the family. Of course you’ll want to be sure you’re all well rested so no one feels cheated on his or her favorite part of the trip.

Vacation is an activity we’re all familiar with. It’s a time to get things done, visit far away places, or simply relax. For me and my family vacation is also a time for us to grow closer to one another. It all starts with a good old-fashioned trip in the car.

While traveling by car is a sure road to family counseling for some families, for Jaimee, Micah and me taking a vacation by car is a great way for us to get to know one another better.

With Jaimee and I having busy schedules it seems like there’s hardly enough time for us to stay up on all the things taking place in our daily life. The hours we spend together driving to our vacation destination is a wonderful way for us to get caught up.

Add to the drive-time the amount of time we spend together in the hotel, together eating meals, sightseeing and visiting family and friends, before you know it we’ve spent an entire 24 hours … together.  An amazing feat!

Don’t misunderstand. Spending so much time with one another isn’t always fun and games, and it can become a little bit uncomfortable at times. You may find that considerable distance has grown between you and your family and bridging that gap can occasionally mean learning new things that you don’t particularly like. But if you can make it through those uncomfortable or difficult moments you may find an even deeper meaning to why you’re together as a family. We did. 

 Our vacation took us to some fascinating places, and we met and visited with some lovely and wonderful people. We returned home with many great memories and many great ideas for making our city a better place to live. But of all the beauty that came of our summer vacation, the greatest beauty of all was in how it brought us closer together as a family.

FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2008

5:35 a.m.: The cell phone alarm chimes quietly. I retrieve it from the nightstand and draw it close to my face.
It’s always my first decision of the day: whether to Dismiss the alarm and get out of bed or take the 10 Minute Snooze. I press the side wheel on the phone dismissing the alarm and slowly make my way out of bed.

Like magic my feet find the slippers by the side of the bed and I shuffle toward the bathroom avoiding an army of toys like they’re landmines on a battlefield.

It takes me 30 minutes to shower, shave and clothe before I’m out the door.

The drive to work takes me over a high rise bridge where I witness the beginning of a crimson sun struggle to get from behind a wall of clouds. I imagine the sun and clouds arguing over who gets to decide what kind of day it’s going to become.

6:45 a.m.: I arrive at my office trailer with coffee and muffin in hand, the grease from the muffin bleeding through the white paper bag. Seated at my desk I eat and drink while browsing the online news. Shortly past seven a worker arrives to empty the waste cans and ready the trailer for another day of business.

I hear a light rap at the door and know it’s the fire chief paying me a visit. He’s visibly worn and I learn he’s distraught over the results of last night’s board meeting, where once again no action was taken on the discipline of two firemen. He expresses his concern for the morale of his men and wonders aloud what can be done to remedy the situation. I remind him of what he already knows: I’ve exhausted all of my authority over the matter, and the Board has made its decision on how it wishes to discipline the firemen. Disappointed he soon leaves.

A short while later the HR Director arrives and she too wants a quick update on the board meeting. Normally she would have attended the meeting, but she chose not to do so for reasons that required no explanation. She listens intently while I speak, then finally expresses her opinion. In the end she leaves knowing she made the right decision not to attend the meeting.
I finish the early morning by firing off some memos, realizing that I’ll be talking about the board meeting throughout the day.

8:00 a.m.: The doors are unlocked and city hall is open for business. The once quiet trailer is soon filled with the sound of office banter. Our first customer is a man wanting to obtain a building permit. He’s told that building permits have moved to a different trailer and he’s directed where to go. Moments later I’m buzzed on the intercom and told there’s a person on hold wishing to talk to me. The caller talks rapidly, and I’m unable to catch his name. He said generally he’s disappointed in the progress the city has made since the storm, but he wanted me to know he agrees with my veto. We chat briefly and after thanking him I turn my attention back to the mass of emails I’d been working on. I’d managed to whittle down the number from 171 to 90 before stopping to confer with my assistant on two meetings she’ll attend that morning. Our conversation lasts all of about 15 minutes before I’m pulled away to take two “important” phone calls that are waiting for my attention.

10:00 a.m.: It’s moments away from my first of two interviews to fill the vacant building inspector’s position. But first my secretary rushes in to inform me there’s a resident waiting to schedule an appointment as soon as possible, but my calendar appears full for the next several days. The resident has an issue with the Inspections Department I’m told. I unholster my Blackberry and type “Mtg w res on Insp prob” into the Monday 10 a.m. slot, creating a conflict with another meeting that’s already scheduled.
I proceed to the waiting area expecting to welcome the interviewee only to find three firemen seated about the room. I assume they’re there to see me but when asked they say it’s the HR Director they came to see. Still I take a moment to greet them with handshakes and we exchange pleasantries, when the resident I’d just scheduled the Monday meeting with approaches me.
“I’ll be here exactly at ten,” she informs me, “so don’t cancel on me.” I’m wondering if I’d cancelled a previous meeting with her but rather than engage her on the subject I simply respond by saying, “don’t worry, I won’t cancel if you won’t,” and I motion for the interviewee to follow me to my office.

Candidate A is a local contractor who has decided he’d like to become the City’s building inspector. He settles his slight frame into the chair opposite my desk and the interview begins. He starts with a summation of his background and his many years of experience. His brown eyes come alive when he describes the improvements he’d like to make in the department if he’s chosen for the position. “Things will be a lot different,” he assures me.

The interview lasts about 30 minutes leaving me roughly 15 minutes before the next interview begins. I fill the time making notes and reviewing the application of the next candidate, and in no time it seems my secretary alerts me that Candidate B has arrived.

A robust man, Candidate B hails from northern Mississippi where he’d once served as a building inspector and code enforcer. He drove 6 hours for the interview. He said he wanted to return to inspections work but only in a city where codes and ordinances were applied equally to all businesses and residents.

I stressed to both candidates my intention to fill the position with someone who possessed field experience AND the ability to lead and manage people; someone capable of learning AND teaching others. Confidently they each assured me they were the right person for the job.

12:15 p.m.: I arrive at the gym and quickly change into my workout clothes. It’s day three of my weekly workout and I’m eager to get started and get it over with. At 51 I find nothing sexy or romantic about working out. I’ve abandoned any hope of ever having a sculptured physique and so I go to the gym for one reason and one reason only: to promote good health. That said my routine is simple: a 20-minute resistance workout (legs, arms and abs) followed by 40 minutes of cardio (bike, stairs and treadmill.)

1:45 p.m.: After a much-needed shower I’m back in the office reviewing the mockup of a newly designed form we’ll soon put into use. There’s a meeting with an event organizer in 15 minutes and we’d like to use the form for his upcoming event.
While reviewing the mockup I’m interrupted by a call from the city engineer. He wants to discuss projects the Board has asked him to work on. For the next 15 minutes we discuss the projects within the scope of the city’s finances and pending FEMA projects, then conclude additional information is needed in order to reach a final decision on how to proceed. So a meeting is scheduled in the coming week to gather that information.

With that out of the way I spend the next 20 minutes discussing the board meeting with two more staff members. I find it repetitious but the discussion gives me valuable insight into their feelings about the situation.

3:15 p.m.: Even though the meeting with the event planner ended without him viewing the mockup, I still want to complete my review of the form. But there’s another phone call, this one from someone with Habitat for Humanity. The soft spoken woman on the other end of the line says that Habitat wants to build a home that requires a variance on the minimum square footage required by the city.

Her call reminds me of how frequently people turn to me for help in solving their everyday problems. Whether it’s to explain the cause of an “excessive” water bill, or to get a pothole fixed - out of respect or out of desperation they see me as the person capable of making things right.
While it’s flattering to be viewed with such dominion, making phone calls to get peoples’ problems solved is not the most effective use of my time. In the best of times someone has to care for the daily problems while someone else markets and promotes the city.

Still, following a five-minute conversation with the Inspections Department, Habitat is placed on the agenda for an upcoming Board of Adjustment meeting.
3:45 p.m.: I settle in to spend the next thirty minutes privately discussing several issues in the police department but the meeting is interrupted by news that a member of the civil service board is there to hand in his resignation. The resignation creates a two-person vacancy that could affect our ability to fill vacancies in a timely manner.

4:15 p.m.: I’m at my desk munching on raw almonds, completing my review of the mockup. After making notations I return the form for what will hopefully be a final edit. Next I turn my attention to the stack of mail that has accumulated for several days. Announcements, invitations, policy changes, and memos make up the bulk of the roughly 6-inch stack of papers. When I’m done each piece of paper will fall into 1 of 4 categories: papers to be trashed, something to be cared for by someone else, something that requires a response, or papers to be filed.
Meanwhile as it nears the end of the workday my secretary comes in and hands me a small stack of phone messages that she’s recorded while I’ve been holed up in my office.

5:15 p.m.: Everyone has left the building and the phones are no longer ringing. Silence envelops the office the way it did nearly 11 hours before. I continue to work through the stack of mail, though my pace has slowed considerably.

6:00 p.m.: Making certain the trailer doors are locked I change into my yoga pants and unfurl the sticky mat I keep tucked away in my office. I dim the office lights and for the next forty minutes remember to breathe as I engage in postures with names like downward facing dog, cobra, bow and tree. At journey’s end I relax into corpse pose and the process of realignment is completed.

7:00 p.m.: There’s no place like home. With a large vegetarian pizza I arrive home to waiting smiles, hearty appetites and the comfort of a loving family. 

You know, 8 hours is a significant amount of time. It’s one-third of an entire day.  As a workday 8 hours appears to be ample time to get things done. But I figured out that on any given workday roughly 70 percent of my time is spent meeting with someone in one of two ways: either face-to-face or over the phone. Factor in text messages and emails and that number increases by another 10 percent.  Include memos, letters and faxes, and you add another 10 percent to the total.

So 95 percent of my day is spent communicating with people in one way or another.  How’s the other 5 percent of my day spent? Well 4 percent is spent traveling to/from meetings, reading correspondence (oftentimes about meetings) and deciding whether I should schedule and/or attend a particular meeting. 

That leaves one percent - one hour out of every one hundred, 15 minutes out of every 25 hours, or roughly 5 minutes of an 8-hour workday – as the amount of time I have left to actually get work done, to accomplish some of the things that get discussed at all of those meetings.

Two long breaths. Then 30 rapid compressions.

Two long breaths. Then 30 rapid compressions.

Anyone past the age of thirty knows that most phone calls you receive at two o’clock in the morning aren’t likely to bear good news.

And so it was for me when my phone rang bedside and I reached over to see who the caller was. It was a miracle that I even heard it ring since I hold the world’s record as the most sound sleeper.

Drakeford the name on Caller-ID flashed, letting me know the person on the other end was my chief of police.  

Two long breaths. Then 30 rapid compressions.

Two long breaths. Then 30 rapid compressions.

“Hello,” I answered, clearing my throat in an effort to sound more awake than asleep.

“Mayor, this is chief. I’m afraid I have some pretty bad news.

“What is it,” I asked, only half wanting to know.

“I hate to tell you this Mayor but Thomas Franklin passed away about an hour ago.”

Thomas Franklin had been the city’s building inspector for more than 15 years. He’d been an employee of the city for more than 20.

Two long breaths. Then 30 rapid compressions.

I paused to gather my thoughts but emotions surfaced instead.

‘Thomas Franklin passed away.’  The words spoke of such finality they left no room for compromise. No room for interpretation. No misunderstanding.  There was but one conclusion to be drawn. 

Say something, I commanded myself. Knowing it was the only way to hold back the emotions.

 “Ah-hum, what happened?” I muttered.

 ”We got a 911 call around midnight from his house. When we arrived at the scene it was obvious he had suffered cardiac arrest. The paramedics were there and they worked on him pretty good I’m told.  For a long time, they said, but they couldn’t bring him back.”

From out of nowhere a flood of emotions gathered in my head.  I took deep breaths in an effort to fill the space where those emotions once dwelled.

 “Ok,” I sputtered, “I’ll see you later this morning.” And ended the call.

“What happened?” my wife inquired from her side of the bed.“Thomas Franklin suffered a heart attack,” I responded. Unable to tell her the complete truth for fear of letting go of all the emotion held inside.

At a meeting of the Mayor and Board of Aldermen of the City of Moss Point, Mississippi held on February 20, 2008, a Resolution or Order was passed by a majority vote of the Aldermen to suspend rather than terminate (Employees A and B) for violating the City’s policy on illegal drug use and/or drug possession. Please accept this written statement as a “veto” by the Mayor, for said Board actions, pursuant to the terms of Section 21-3-15, Mississippi Code of 1972.

My objections to said actions are simply this: 

The City has in place policies that govern the conduct and performance of its employees while performing their duties during their tenure of employment. These policies exist for the benefit of the employee and the City to provide a mutual understanding of the code of conduct that is deemed acceptable for continued employment with the City of Moss Point. Similarly the consequence of unacceptable performance is outlined within the handbook so that every employee knows in advance what fate awaits improper conduct.

Our employee handbook was passed and approved by this Board and indeed labored over by its members for the sole purpose of making clear to everyone what is and what is not acceptable performance, and the standards by which every employee will be measured.  As such the conduct of the two employees suspended by the Board falls clearly on the side of undesirable behavior as spelled out in the employee handbook, with the consequence of their actions made unambiguously clear. 

Therefore in its deliberation on February 19, the Board had little to do but to validate the consequence spelled out in the employee handbook.  It failed to do its job.

With this veto I hereby remand this matter back to the Board for reconsideration for compliance with the penalty spelled out in the employee handbook.

Respectfully submitted,

Xavier Z. Bishop

Mayor, City of Moss Point

I finally got around to doing something I’ve been meaning to do for more than two years. No, I didn’t give up being a vegetarian.  I went to see a doctor.

This may not seem like a big deal for many of you but like so many other things, in the aftermath of Katrina I’ve been putting off getting a checkup.  You know the excuses: I was always too busy, too tired, or it required too much effort. And the more I waited the more I became a little too afraid of what the examination might reveal.

To top it all off like many guys I’ve never been a fan of going to see a doctor. For what? I feel fine. Basically. Somewhat. Certaininly not bad enough to give up what I’d rather do.  So add the excuses, the procrastination and the rationalization, and you have someone who in reality should not waste another day getting a physical. So I didn’t. I went. 

The first thing the doctor did was check my weight. One hundred seventy-five pounds! I was shocked. “How can that be?” I protested. “After all that I’ve lost I should be weighing less.  I’ve lost my patience, lost my temper, not to mention all the hair I’ve lost over the last two years. I should be weighing less, not more. There must be a mistake. I want a second opinion.” He chuckled in response.

After the weigh-in he gaves me a blood pressure test. But before he starts I warn him that I’m still upset over my weight gain, so he’ll need to grade my blood pressure test on a curve. He laughs and wraps the nylon band around to my arm. Tightly.  He wraps it so tightly in fact that I tell him I can’t breathe. “Relax,” he says, “stop holding your breath.” He’s right.  I exhale and suddenly I’m ok.  And so was my blood pressure as it turned out.

Next he takes the stethoscope, places it on my chest and tells me to breathe in, hold it and breathe out.  Which I do, but I get a little concerned when he begins moving the stethoscope all around my chest, from the left side to right side, then up and down, like he can’t find my damn heart.  I’m like – hey, doc, it’s over here, pointing to the left side of my chest. He cast a knowing smile but said nothing.

 Afterwards he looks in my ears, my eyes and my throat. “Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil,” I suggest amusingly.  He ignores me, says nothing.

Next he wheels over a machine that’s about the size of my son’s highchair. It has lots of controls, a monitor and a cable that extends out from the side.  He flicks a few switches and the monitor displays what looks like the outer limits of the universe. He rubs a gel on my throat and places the end of the cable where he’d previously put the gel. Moving it around he looks at the monitor.

“What are we looking at?” I ask. “Your two major arteries,” he responds.  Believing I’m seeing what he’s seeing I ask, “how do they look?” “They look great,” he assures me, pointing to an O-like disk on the monitor. “No blockage.”  “Are you sure the machine’s working?” I wisecrack, “I don’t see any blood flowing.”  Growing slightly irritated, he still says nothing.

Turning to his desk he refers to my patient information sheet. “I see you’re over 50,” he comments casually. “Yep,” I say proudly. Certain that he’s amazed at my youthful heath and appearance.  “I’m going to schedule you for a colonoscopy,” he informed me.  “And since it will be your first I’ll recommend it be done without sedation.”  My jaw drops. Colon? Isn’t that the long snake-like tube that goes from your stomach to you’re a…?

Before I could offer up an excuse he glides his chair over to a nearby shelf and retrieves a pair of latex gloves. Sliding one on each hand he snaps the latex around his wrist as if to make a statement.

“And, since you’re over 50 we’ll need to give you your annual prostate examine.”

Grabbing the sides of the chair I hold on for dear life. Suddenly I had a newfound appreciation for my 175 pounds as I cemented my bottom deep within the cushion of the chair.

“But, but, but…” I begin to protest.

“Butt, butt, butt,” he responds.

 “Let’s use the highchair-thingy,” I suggest. “it will show us if there is a problem, won’t it?”

“No, I think you were right, it doesn’t appear to be working.”

“I know!” I exclaim, “I could self-examine. You know, the way women do for breast cancer.”

He smiles and shakes his head disapprovingly.

Then he offers up a solution. “If you’re uncomfortable with me doing the examination I could call in nurse Kristov.”

He motions over to a picture on the wall which I assume to be of nurse Kristov, a burly 300 pound man-woman smiling to reveal two missing front teeth. A look at his/her hands showed fingers the size of lampposts. The answer was obvious.

 Fifteen minutes later I limped out of the doctors office, wondering if he’d checked my prostate AND my colon at the same time. Though my pride is wounded I found solace in the Certificate of Good Health I held close to my chest.   

Today I decided to alter my routine at the gym and run on the treadmill. After about 20 minutes of exercising it occurred to me, there’s a lot about being on the treadmill that reminds me of life after Hurricane Katrina. 

A treadmill is little more than a belt that turns repeatedly; a continuous loop that produces the same motion over and over again. It basically has no beginning and no end, and thus there is the feeling that although you’re moving, you’re not getting anywhere.

 From the time I left the shelter from the hurricane, I’ve felt as though my body and mind have been in constant motion, without a beginning and with no end in sight, just like the belt on a treadmill. Combine the sense of continuous motion with a feeling of not going anywhere, and suddenly you have — life on a treadmill!

It all kind of reminds me of the movie Groundhog Day where the main character, played by Bill Murray, gets trapped in a cycle of reliving Groundhog Day over and over again, day after day after day. In the beginning he’s baffled by the phenomenon, but after a while he becomes frustrated at not being able to break the cycle of the recurring reality.  Eventually he accepts his fate and then uses it as a basis for changing his life.

Part of what makes Groundhog Day such a powerful movie is that it shows us how transforming personal change can be. In the case of Murray’s character the change was made possible by the repetition of Groundhog Day.  The experience placed him in exile from normal life, which in turn enabled him to discover he’d been in exile from himself by his arrogance and self-absorption. Eventually he learned that the only way to change (the repetition of) his life was by changing himself.

While recounting the details of the movie I couldn’t help but notice how the feeling of despair felt by Murray’s character is the same feeling of despair I often have. Both of us seem caught up in an inexplicable situation of someone else’s design.  As I began to explore the deeper meaning behind the movie, I wondered if the remedy for my despair was the same remedy as that of the main character.

He started by treating each day as unique, as if it were a world onto itself. He then went about the task of making the most of the day. For example by changing a negative outcome into a positive one or by saving someone’s life. What he realized was that unless he approached events differently they would repeat themselves throughout the day as they had on the original day. On the other hand if he changed his behavior, people would respond to the change in a manner that was different from before and this would open up a whole new world of possibilities. In the end having a genuine care and concern for others made it possible for his true inner being to be revealed. This in turn broke the cycle of repetition. 

I’m still thinking through the comparison between the movie and life post Katrina, wondering if I might be reading too much into the meaning of a simple movie or if I’ve simply gotten so comfortable with my despair that being in exile has become a safe place to be.  I won’t analyze the comparison too long though. I don’t have to. I’m way past ready to get off this treadmill.