End of Summer: Mule Days, Gen Z Goes to Church and Ed Sullivan

Cautious Mules

 It was “Hells Canyon Mules Days” here in Wallowa County this weekend. The 44th annual edition, celebrating, well, mules.

Aware of the old phrase “stubborn as a mule,” I asked an 80-year-old mule “skinner,” i.e., a guy who drives a team of mules from a wagon, “Are mules stubborn?” “No,” said he thoughtfully, “mules are cautious. They won’t do something if they think it is dangerous.” In my book, that’s a good attribute, especially when you are in steep backcountry with pack animals.

I enjoyed scratching the jowls of this friendly fellow. Notice the long ears, a characteristic of mules. Maybe the big ears make mules especially tuned into the verbal cues from their owners. Mule skinners use a lot of verbal commands, but those, to my admittedly imperfect ears, were more sounds than words.

I got interested in mules when I recently read a book on the Oregon Trail, where mules and oxen were the workhorses, so to speak (more than actual horses). The author had high praise for mules’ strength and character. Mules also were longer lived and less susceptible to illness than horses. One of the mules performing at Mule Days was 35 years. “Probably his last year,” observed his driver.

“Mule Days” was a sweet if low-key affair at the County Fairgrounds. We all stood to say the Pledge of Allegiance together at the beginning, then watched kids do the “Boot Scramble” race. The way that works is kids all take off their boots. The boots are heaped in a pile at the half-way mark. The kids run to the pile, find their boots, put them on, and race back to the starting line. That was followed by “Fast Ass Race,” teams of three mules doing a relay, handing off saddle bags after rounding the arena.

The crowd looked to be people from the distant, often isolated, ranches, rather than town dwellers. And unlike the rodeo in July, where western wear is worn to be seen, the ranch folks Western wear seemed real but plain — which might describe the people too.

Gen Z goes to Church

Gen Z, people who are now in their late teens and twenties, are going to church. According to a survey by the Barna Group (a Christian research organization), “Churchgoers between the ages of 18 and 28 attend church more frequently than their older siblings, parents, or grandparents. A new study, part of the State of the Church research initiative from Barna Group and Gloo, found a post-pandemic surge among Gen Z churchgoers over the age of 18.”

The Barna study calls this a “historic” and “generational reversal.” What’s more, “The fact that young people are showing up more frequently than before is not a typical trend,” Daniel Copeland, Barna’s vice president of research, said in a statement. “This data represents good news for church leaders and adds to the picture that spiritual renewal is shaping Gen Z and Millennials today.”

This isn’t the first report on this trend that I’ve seen. Other articles especially note that Gen Z men are showing up in church even more than their female counterparts. Some of the reports I’ve seen call this a “conservative trend,” and lament it for that reason. Personally, I’m glad to see Gen Zer’s, and young men, connecting with live (not over the internet) people. I see this at Bethany Presbyterian on Queen Anne where I go when I’m in Seattle. Young people are very much in evidence there.

We hear so much about isolation and loneliness among young people, men especially, that this has to be a good development.

Putting on Sunday Best

Linda and I enjoyed the new movie about the old “Ed Sullivan Show” on Netflix. It’s called, “Sunday Best: The Untold Story of Ed Sullivan.”

For folks our age, whose families watched the Sunday night show religiously, and did so as a family, the film is great and nostalgic fun. Yep, there are the Beatles and Elvis, with young women in the audience going absolutely bananas.

But the real point of “Sunday Best” is that Ed Sullivan broke racial barriers by being the first to give many black artists a chance on television — Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, the Supremes, Gladys Knight and the Pips, and Harry Belafonte among them. Belafonte was an especially big risk, as he was known for politics, often labeled a “communist.” But Sullivan had them all and more, despite threats from his network and from critics who said he risked “losing the Southern audience.”

Sullivan, who was a journalist in New York City before landing the job as emcee of what became a famous variety show, was committed to treating all people, regardless of race, with respect and fairness.

In interviews laced into the documentary, it is evident that Sullivan had a strong moral compass. Sullivan never fancied himself as an entertainer per se, nor did he try to be. He often seemed more than a little stiff on-stage, but he was just being himself, never trying to be someone he wasn’t. His gift, besides his moral courage, was his knack for spotting acts that people would enjoy. Every act that appeared on Ed Sullivan was selected and vetted by Sullivan himself. His instinct for good entertainment was what made it work. Check it out.