by Mike Morris
Although Honorable, my early discharge from the U.S. Air Force states, “Character disorder – intense and ill-tempered toward the military – unadaptable.” After becoming a Buddhist, the person who set up my first altar and enshrined my Gohonzon (the object of devotion) told me later that throughout the ceremony he was chanting for only one thing: that I wouldn’t attack him. I was self-centered, angry, cowardly, a quitter, and insincere. All that stuff about being self-centered, angry, cowardly, a quitter, and insincere I would have denied; I didn’t believe it.
Buddhism teaches that, “A mind which presently is clouded by illusions originating from the innate darkness of life is like a tarnished mirror, but once it is polished it will become clear, reflecting the enlightenment of immutable truth. Arouse deep faith and polish your mirror night and day. How should you polish it? Only by chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.” The basic prayer in Nichiren Buddhism is repeating Nam-myoho-renge-kyo in rhythm: six equal beats; each syllable getting a beat. It’s like a language that speaks directly to the Buddha nature – a nature that exists in everybody and everything.
Buddhist practice made a profound change in my life happen. Over the course of many years my Buddhist practice has been motivated by a muddled mess. Praying for this enormously sundry assortment of stuff polishes my internal mirror; and a self- centered, angry, cowardly, insincere quitter has been brought to light. Since I do not like being any of those things, I pray not to be them and attempt on occasions to take actions that unveil an altruistic, happy, courageous, sincere, tenacious person.
In 1979 I dropped out of college for the fourth time to return to Washington D.C. to record an album and tour with a band called Dr. Goodfoot and the Toxic Sox. I had been majoring in music – percussion – and dropped out right before performing my senior recital. I figured I would return and perform my senior recital at some other time. I would also take the biology course I had put off since my freshman year.
I had postponed biology because when I was in high school we failed to give some frogs enough ether before we began dissecting them, and the next day we discovered them hopping around with their innards hanging out. Fearfully, just like when I squashed the baby chicks, I hoped biology would just go away. But, just like the squashed baby chicks, it didn’t.
After brief success, the band crashed and burned and we all got day jobs. I became a house painter and a paperhanger. I was very involved in our Buddhist youth groups, having great fun, and soon many years had passed. House painting can become a tough career. There was no sick leave, no paid vacations or holidays, no insurance or benefits of any kind, and usually no people around – just you, the paint, the dust, the toxic fumes, and the wall. And the pay doesn’t go up; it goes down.
Living in a small condominium with a pregnant Moana and a young daughter, and seeing no way out, I began to suffer. I tried to avoid chanting about my job because it appeared hopeless. However, after much encouragement from several really great Buddhist friends, as well as my boss, Ron Payton, I began chanting about going back to school and becoming a teacher. Preparing another senior recital was out of the question; I had no access to timpani’s, xylophones, marimbas, and all the other percussion equipment, nor did I have time for the hundreds of rehearsal hours. I changed my major to Sociology, which had been my minor at one time. If I could get an undergraduate degree and somehow raise my GPA (grade point average) I could apply for a spot in a Masters Certification Program in Elementary Education at the University of Maryland.
My transcripts at Jacksonville State University in Alabama were a mess. I had 78 music credits, which are a lot. But many of them were repeat classes. For example, I played in the stage band four years, but instead of signing up for stage band 101, 201, 301, 401, I just put down 101 over and over. That meant the “A” I made counted only once in my GPA, plus I received no credit for the high level 301 and 401 classes. I did this with quite a few musical groups. So if I could get that corrected, I would raise my GPA as well as complete some of my 300, 400-level requirements for graduation.
With my new Sociology major I was assigned a faculty advisor. I had never had one of those before. He discovered some hidden university law that said since I started at Jacksonville in 1969, I could use the requirements in the 1969 catalogue for my degree requirements that weren’t as stringent as the 1988 requirements. To make a long story short: In order to get my degree and have a GPA high enough to be accepted into the Master’s Certification Program, not only did I have to ace two political science courses and a statistics course, I had to get the Dean of the Science department to wave Biology 101, as well as wave it as a prerequisite for Botany 401 and allow me to take Botany 401 instead, and I had to make an “A” in it. I also had to convince the Dean of Humanities to change all my repeated 101 music ensemble classes to 301 and 401 courses. My advisor said it was impossible. He knew the Deans and they had never done anything like that and they were very committed to not doing anything like that. He talked to them for me anyway and they said, “No way.”
Buddhism teaches, “... that one should become the master of his mind rather than let his mind master him.” Even though logically it appeared impossible, I knew in order to become the master of my mind I had to persevere in what I had decided. Chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, I prayed with two passages from the writings of Nichiren Daishonin in my heart. First of all: “One’s ichinen (or fundamental desire) when chanting Nam-myo-renge-kyo permeates the entire universe; it can move anything.” Secondly, “And Li Kuang was able to pierce a rock with his arrow because he fully believed it to be the tiger which had killed his father. Faith is still more powerful in the world of Buddhism.” The second phrase comes from a Chinese story about a general who, seeking revenge on the tiger that killed his father, mistakenly shot at a boulder with such determination that the arrow lodged firmly into the stone. This is the kind of prayer I tried to offer.
Buddhism also teaches that, “A coward cannot have any of his prayers answered.” So I went to talk to the deans. The Dean of the Science Department was waiting in her office looking very authoritarian behind a huge desk. I made my request and she waved me away and coldly pronounced, “No.”
I explained, “You see I am married with a child. I live in Maryland and if I don’t get these requirements completed so I can graduate in April I won’t be able to get into this graduate program...blah, blah....”
Again she said, “No, there is nothing I can do. I’m sorry.” But this time she seemed to be sliding down a little lower in her chair.
I began again, “There is a deadline for applying to the Masters Certification Program and I can only stay down here for the summer, then I must return home...blah... blah.”
She rejected my pleas again, and again she seemed to be sliding down, sinking under her desk. This exchange continued for over an hour, and finally, peeping over the edge of her desk that she was almost completely under now, she pounded it with her hand and yelled, “Give me the paper!” She signed it, threw it back at me, and told me to get out and she never wanted to see me again. Feeling victorious I headed for the Dean of Humanities.
At the Department of Humanities, I entered a lobby crowded with students waiting to meet with the Dean. Just as I was stepping in and before I could figure out what to do next, the door of the Dean’s office opened and a man looked at me. His eyes lit up, and ignoring the others who had been waiting, he headed for me with both hands extended to greet me. “How have you been,” he queried as he shook my hand, placed his other hand on my shoulder, and ushered me into his office. He proceeded to pour his heart out to me about his best friend who had recently passed. Apparently, I was the spitting image of his friend. After shedding a few tears he thanked me for coming in and asked if there was anything he could do for me. I began to explain about my 101 courses needing to be changed, but before I could finish he walked me out to one of his assistants working at a computer terminal. He introduced me to her like I was an old friend and instructed her to do wh
atever I wanted. She looked a little shocked, but called my transcripts up onto her screen and began making all the necessary changes as I directed. When she finished she glanced up at some of the “F’s” I had earned (if it is possible to earn an “F”), and asked, “How do you want to change these?” She appeared really baffled when I smiled and said, “That’s okay. That’s it! Thanks!” Looking almost aghast, she questioned me one more time, “Are you sure?”
Anyway, I was able to ace all of the courses I took, graduated in 1989 (20 years after I started), was accepted into the Masters Certification program, completed that in 1991, and began teaching middle school the same year. That struggle allowed me to enjoy the retribution I experienced for 23 years as a middle school teacher.
61
Present
So who is Mo Mickus, now? At present, I have been married for a long time – over four decades – much longer than I haven’t been married – over twice as long – and I have a very good marriage that bumps and grinds, but continues to get better. I have two beautiful daughters – one a working mother in graduate school preparing to begin her first year as a middle school science teacher and the other fighting injustice as a lawyer for the ACLU. I have an admirable son-in-law who is a great husband and father, a grandson who is the very coolest, a darling granddaughter who radiates beauty, and my youngest granddaughter who is fearless and has the most wonderful heart. My favorite things to do involve attending their various activities, hanging out with them, and witnessing their battles as they wage a crusade toward ultimate victory.
I ended my teaching career at a middle school three miles from my home – a school that received “the most non-violent school in Maryland” award – a National Blue Ribbon school in one of the top school systems in the country. I was voted Teacher of the Year. My students liked me; their parents liked me; my administration and fellow staff members liked me. At my students’ invitations, I attended their swim meets, basketball games, volleyball games, football games, baseball games, tennis matches, musical and dance performances, gymnastics events, bar mitzvahs, and bat mitzvahs. Former students have invited me to their graduations, graduation parties, musical gigs, and weddings. Their parents thank me and often tell me I was their child’s favorite teacher. I am encouraged when I find out how well they are doing, and often they urge me to finish my book, which I started as a writing activity with students in 1991. My time working with every student was a joyful mission and a great honor.
My home is the place where I most want to live. Even though it rests halfway between two major cities, it is a miniature country oasis. I play jazz drums in a 20-piece big band as well as smaller combos. I have toured the northeast United States, Switzerland and Canada with a world champion fife and drum corps. I have travelled the world playing jazz, drumming in 14 countries. For my 68th birthday, along with the Columbia Jazz Band, we presented “The Music of Buddy Rich” concert: Buddy Rich, the greatest drummer who ever lived and my musical hero. Every November I travel to Alabama to celebrate with my mother’s family, and each summer for a week my family and I join members of my extended family at a beach in North Carolina.
Like many people in their late 60’s, I am trying to figure out what to do now and what to do next. I practice Buddhism in the SGI-USA, an organization dedicated to peace and happiness for all people. Along with my fellow members we struggle to win in life and to help others win in their lives. Although I am not in any hurry to get there, I am also kind of looking forward to my next life. I realize I probably won’t remember this one, but maybe I will read this book and think, “There is something really familiar about this Mo Mickus dude.”
