East Bound and Down

East bound and down, loaded up and truckin'

We gonna do what they say can't be done

We've got a long way to go and a short time to get there

I'm east bound, just watch ol' Bandit run

Last night I was sitting in Lodge and this song came to mind. Not only the song, but I saw Burt Reynolds and Jerry Reed absolutely flooring it down the highway, with Sheriff Buford T. Justice—aka “Smokey Bear,” patron saint of speeding tickets—right on their tails like he just smelled a free donut.

Last night had me thinking about a number of things. Please understand these are only my thoughts and mine alone. I’m not trying to throw shade on anyone or any group. They’re not perfect, and I’m not either… which, in my not-so-humble opinion, makes us perfectly qualified to talk about it.

Have you ever noticed that things within Freemasonry tend to move at about the speed of a snail crawling across duct tape… uphill… in January? If we want to make internal changes or embrace a more modern way of doing things, it takes forever—or at least long enough for a guy to forget why he suggested it in the first place. Why? Because Masons LOVE their traditions. And we should. Traditions are part of who we are. They matter. They give us identity, structure, and an excuse to say, “Well, we’ve always done it that way,” with a completely straight face.

Now, there is a big difference between traditions, customs, and rituals—but that’s a conversation for another day… preferably one that also moves at a snail’s pace.

But then—plot twist—when it comes to people interested in Masonry, suddenly it’s “Rush, rush, rush!” Like we’ve got Smokey and the Bandit playing in the background and someone just bet us we can’t get 400 cases of Coors from Texarkana to Atlanta in 28 hours.

And we do it all the time.

Yes, this is another one of those “we need to slow down” thoughts… because we do. Things happened last night at Lodge—things said, things done—that really made me stop and think. If we’re concerned about a candidate’s “Masonic experience,” then maybe we should actually act like it.

Don’t hand a man a petition the second his tires hit the parking lot like it’s a drive-thru initiation. “Welcome to Lodge—would you like light, knowledge, and fries with that?” Take some time. Get to know him. Make him come to events. Invite him out to dinner. Let him see how the Lodge works when nobody’s trying to impress him. If he keeps showing up after seeing all that… now you’ve got something.

By the time he fills out that petition, there shouldn’t be any mystery left. You’ll know him, he’ll know you, and nobody’s sitting there during the vote thinking, “Now… which guy was this again?”

Same goes for established Brothers. Why, in the name of Hiram Abiff, are we rushing people through degrees like it’s a punch card? If a man doesn’t understand what he just experienced, then what exactly are we advancing him into—confusion?

Yes, everyone has their own Masonic journey. But a journey still needs a map… or at least a speed limit.

Masonry can absolutely change lives. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it. But you don’t give a kid a tricycle one day and the keys to an 18-wheeler full of Coors the next and say, “Good luck, Brother—watch out for Smokey.”

Slow it down. Let it mean something. Because if it is not special and important enough for us to take out time… nothing is.

I love you and may we govern ourselves accordingly