The Real Measure of Privilege: Why We Get It Wrong?

 

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In the spring of 1995, our MEU anchored off the eastern coast of Africa, just below the Horn—about 10 to 12 miles from shore, close enough to see land clearly on the horizon. Our area of operations was the region around Somalia’s capital, Mogadishu, just north of the equator. I remember the weather: warm, with rolling clouds reminiscent of Texas skies, but without the oppressive humidity I knew from home. The ocean breeze was salty and soft, the sea itself calm. From the flight deck of the USS Ogden, our amphibious transport dock, the mood was quiet and focused—a rare stillness before Naval flight and LCAC (Landing Craft Air Cushion) operations began. That day, everything felt routine. The ship, affectionately called our “rust bucket,” drifted peacefully as we awaited orders to go ashore.

Prior to the beach landing and Operation United Shield, our days were structured and repetitive: wake up, do PT, eat chow, do live-fire weapons training off the aft deck, eat chow, do gear and weapons maintenance, eat chow, and do a couple of fast-rope drills from CH-46 helicopters to kill time. We made sure our Humvees were ready to roll at a moment’s notice; however, physical training helped manage stress and keep our nerves steady as we waited for the final hour.

Looking back on that operation and the experience some thirty years ago, I began to reflect on what it really means to be privileged. My time in the Marines forced me to consider privilege in new ways—not just as a matter of material advantage, but as a collection of opportunities, responsibilities, and challenges that shaped my character. Later in life, with more body fat around my waist and more white tinting my beard, I have found myself questioning what it truly means to possess privilege, especially when comparing my circumstances to those of the people of Somalia. While I was born in a country with freedoms and liberties, many in Mogadishu were burdened by civil war and the daily struggle to secure basic necessities like clean water, food, and safety. In places where government and diplomacy are absent, and power is held by the corrupt and violent, basic human rights are stripped away. As scholars have pointed out, it is unjustifiable when some enjoy comfort and resources while others suffer intolerable deprivation (Edwards, 1967, p. 198). What does it actually mean to come from privilege?

According to Webster’s, privilege is a special right or benefit granted to a person (Kauffman, 1989, p. 270). Some might say my service in the Marines was a privilege, though I volunteered at eighteen, nudged by my father to find direction. Yet, when most people talk about privilege, they’re usually referring to advantages conferred by birth—family name, inherited wealth, or social status. Another perspective sees privilege as a liberty or status assigned to someone simply because of where they were born or the community they belong to (Edwards, 1967, p. 195). As a native Texan, I never felt I was born into privilege.  

My family has no notable ancestry or special status—our name is ordinary, and our story is unremarkable. Privilege, for me, was never something handed down; it was something I had to work for. Yet the more I reflect, the more I realize that simply being born in a place of relative peace and opportunity is itself a kind of privilege—one that millions are denied through no fault of their own.

Maybe true privilege isn’t about wealth or status, but about recognizing the responsibilities that come with our advantages, however modest they may seem. If we can acknowledge this, perhaps we can do more to make sure opportunities and basic rights are accessible to everyone. That, to me, is the real challenge—and the real measure—of privilege in our world today.

References:

Edwards, P. (1967). Rights. In The encyclopedia of philosophy (Vol. 7, pp. 1-545). Macmillan company & the Free Press.

Kauffman, L. (1989). Webster’s dictionary. Webster’s Dictionary. https://archive.org/details/bwb_S0-CCA-267/page/270/mode/2up

Footprint on the Foe

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There is a nail-scarred footprint on the back of Satan's neck

Although for a time and here for now, he will make your life a wreck

But take great heart, for the Christian as Paul eagerly foretold

His grace is sufficient for us, and in weakness we are bold

 

After our conversion, we’re challenged to forsake and to wean

To turn our back on the world and pursue daily cleaning

To take captive every thought, but not as a pompous scholar

But to humble ourselves and to uplift his mighty honor 

 

If we only read and try to apply it as a mindful thinker

We cease to change the world and are prone to pointing fingers

Graves are filled with dead corpses that never met perfection

Maturity was lost, and growth stunted for His great affection

 

What pleasures got in our way? What pride of one's life?

Hindered the fullness of the fruit with no thought of the afterlife

He who started a transforming work in us won't stop or delay

Can a verse in a poem be comfort if we are bent to keep astray?

 

The battle is always present deep where the spirit dwells

Fatigued, we fight all day to claim victory over ourselves

Labors and mercies feverishly offered, poured out, and spent 

To what end will we decay before we accept why he was sent?

 

Known is the walk that is stony and climbs all uphill 

Leaning forward in the fight is His divine will

No discipline at the time seems pleasant to enjoy

But maybe he established a lesson, and it should be employed

 

Warriors hate to admit defeat and to admit we are weak

Affliction molds our hearts; that is his loving technique 

God is quite clear that he will abolish our ego and our pride

Whenever we are haughty, He turns his face aside

 

He came to show the way and to flip us upside down

There is a lot of discerning from under that thorny crown 

Denying all of ourselves and following the honored king

Dying in our own way, we must perform spiritual hygiene

by: Brian Zeringue

 

Mist, Granite, and Gratitude: Two Days in Yosemite

Justin Zeringue and Sequoia 2026

Felled trees in great quantities and droves of chainsawed lumber paint the view and define the landscape. Parts of it feel almost apocalyptic; other parts, heavenly and celestial. Dead and plentiful, yet life persists among it all. A single white-headed, faintly yellow-beaked, large brown-feathered frame—an American Bald Eagle—sat atop a gray, fire-damaged pine tree in solitude along State Route 41, which merges into Wawona Road at Yosemite’s southernmost entrance in the middle Sierras of California. A massive section, scarred by a not-so-distant fire, had devastated thousands of acres of forest. Long tree stalks, no leaves, branches gone. Gray. Burnt. Charcoal. And there, in plain sight: a bald eagle. I think: how would Emerson describe this bird of prey? Two words: self-reliant.

At the perimeter of one of America's premier national treasures, just before entering Yosemite National Park, we saw our first real creature—a moment we would have missed if not for the other onlookers who had pulled off to the side of the road. One sightseer stood with a cell phone, pinch-zooming for a better shot, while another, next to their Subaru Outback, came prepared for the moment with a 35mm camera fitted with a magnificent, long black zoom lens. We glimpsed the scene from a quick 15 mph drive-by on the narrow, windy road—Justin at the wheel, me navigating, Shawn in the back as she disdains twisty, narrow roads. I suggested we stop for a closer look, but to no avail; we kept going. It was my first American Bald Eagle sighting. Such was the beginning of our two-day trip from Los Angeles—leaving behind emails, traffic, and the urgency of daily life to embrace nature on a must-see, bucket-list Spring Break getaway. Just north, about five hours away, lies the national park renowned for its majestic granite peaks and composed, dignified, and heroic Sugar and Ponderosa Pines.

Shawn and Justin bridge before the Mist Trail head, 2026

I begin to feel small and insignificant as I approach Yosemite Valley. A pit stop lets us take in the picturesque scenery, often captured by artists and oil painters—the iconic Wawona Tunnel view, with El Capitan on the left, Bridalveil Falls on the right, and, in the background, a sliver of granite: Half Dome. The day is a parking frenzy, from environmentally conscious SUV and Tesla owners to massive 28-foot sightseeing buses filled with camera-toting foreign visitors, including us, all vying for a glimpse and a photo of the breathtaking view—each of us eager to claim our "been there, done that" moment.

El Capitan in the background 2026

Towering trees—pines and firs—reach for the sky, their leafy branches protruding from rock cliffs and the valley floor between El Capitan and Bridalveil Falls. Standing next to them, you can’t help but feel small. Coming from the southern or western entrance to Yosemite, we arrived during the winter melt. Luckily, we were met with sunshine and a temperate climate—chilly enough for a sweatshirt in the morning and midday shade, but warm enough for t-shirts and joggers in the sun. Shawn had made reservations at Yosemite Lodge last winter as we planned our trip—except for the girls, whose schedules didn’t match up with Justin and Shawn's week off.

 pizza at The Deck

We slept at Yosemite Lodge—a modern, motel-style room with two twin beds, a shower, a small fridge, a wall-mounted television, and, for those of us who depend on technology, a WiFi password. Behind the lodge, a small foot-worn trail leads to a smooth, calm stretch of the Merced River. After a brief five-minute walk in sandals, I squat down to touch the running water—it’s shockingly cold, like fresh-melted snow. On our first evening, after a short hike near Yosemite Lower Falls, we devoured fresh oven-fired pizza at The Deck in Curry Village.

Yosemite Lodge also has a cafeteria with large touchscreens for ordering breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus standard grab-and-go options, a grill, and—for those of us who need caffeine—fresh-brewed coffee with sugar and cream. 

There’s even a Starbucks nearby, where I happily sipped a hot Venti Pike with a full heart of gratitude the morning we drove home. I wondered what John Muir would think if he could see all the visitors at Yosemite today—transported somehow to the 21st century to witness these annual gatherings. I appreciate my technology, but also question how I would have fared almost 150 years ago, when El Capitan first astonished early travelers. I’m grateful for the work of Presidents Lincoln and Roosevelt, whose efforts made this a national treasure; without them, the land might have been developed and lost to privatization.

Justin having Pizza 

After a restless night of sleep, sharing a twin bed with Shawn, we woke to a quiet morning. Birds chirped just outside our door, and ground squirrels bustled around, unafraid and used to tourists. The presence of Lower Yosemite Falls was unmistakable as soon as we stepped outside—stillness, not many tourists. Still. Dignified. Reverent. The sound of the falls, gushing on the northern side of our lodge, filled the valley—a kind of white noise, incessant yet soft and resounding. Audible. Clear. Perceptible. We had a small bite to eat—protein bars, water, a couple of cups of coffee—and packed for our morning hike to the famous Mist Trail and Vernal Falls. We expected the trip to take just under three hours.

Shawn and Brian- Ponderosa Pine 2026

The paved trail, filled with avid hikers and climbers, attracts visitors from around the world—locals from California, Michigan, Washington, Ohio, and the Carolinas, as well as travelers from Australia and the Netherlands. We took advantage of the park’s shuttle buses—one Green, one Purple (I can’t recall which direction each went)—and on our way to the Mist Trail trailhead, we met other nature lovers, geared up with hiking poles, packs, granola bars, and trail mix.

Parts of the Mist Trail are reinforced and paved like a paseo before turning into a natural path of dirt, rocks, and smooth areas worn by years of foot traffic, gradually climbing toward the pinnacle section of Vernal Falls. The trail lives up to its name just below the falls, where fresh, crisp snowmelt crashes down on colossal granite rocks, instantly vaporizing and aerosolizing into a fine mist that soaks shoes, clothes, and any gear not protected by waterproof material. 

Mist Trail head 2026

Justin and Shawn near Vernal Falls on Mist Trail 2026

We paused to take photos of the falls, then continued up the granite stone walkway—the so-called “steps”—through a narrow, rail-protected path to the top. Just past the falls' soaking spray, our group became one less as Shawn deliberated between pushing forward and retreating out of fear of vertigo and heights. Justin and I saw Shawn back to the start of the trail, ensured her safety down the paved section, stopped for water and a restroom break, and finally retraced our steps up the path we had all just traversed.

As I followed closely behind Justin, who pushed up the path just faster than I felt capable of, I was overtaken by a dilemma. Should I stop him so we could go back and make sure Shawn got back safely to the visitor area near our lodge, or continue forward with this energetic, athletic, fearless seventeen-year-old, fueled by a full tank of risky behavior? As I wrestled with these thoughts, I prayed.

Breathing a little harder than usual at elevation, I felt the burn in my lungs and my heart pounding, as if it might burst through my chest. My Apple Watch told me my average heart rate was 70-80 bpm, but I could still sense my effort, not a 10 but more than a 5. My mind wandered to my education and training as I looked around at my position on the trail. I thought, if this were the place I suffered a stroke or heart attack, there would be no resuscitation efforts, no AED, no one nearby who could perform CPR—no rescue. And so, I prayed.

Vernal Fall on the Mist Trail 2026

Under my breath, as I often do before work, I said, “God, thank you for the opportunity to be here outdoors. Forgive me for my many sins, defaults, and errors. Watch over Shawn as she makes her way back to the lodge. Help me keep up with Justin and enjoy our time, and if I should pass out or have a heart attack, forgive me of all my wrongdoing and watch over my three kids and wife. Amen.”

From there, we made it again to the mistiest part of the Mist Trail leading up to Vernal Falls. As we trekked up, I noticed sections of the trail that were intentionally paved, earning it the nickname “the steps” among hikers. In awe, I walked up this section where carefully placed granite chunks—each weighing at least 150-200 pounds—formed innumerable steps. I thought to myself: someone was here before, placing these stones in this rugged terrain. Irregular. Coarse. Unpredictable. Sketchy. Disjointed.

Top of Vernal Fall part of the Mist Trail 2026

Years ago, there were no steps, no side rails; now there is a path, paved and thoughtfully constructed for future generations. Gratitude and appreciation infused my burning quad muscles, my burning inhalations, and pounding heart as I felt each beat. I struggled to stay on Justin’s heels, who, a few feet ahead, navigated the ascent with ease, strength, and vigor as if he had done this before. I am reminded of the autumn of my life; wear and tear take time to recover, and I am humbled as well. Once at the top, we would take a picture of Vernal Falls, sip more water, and begin our descent.

Faith, Balance, and Endurance: Temperance Across Occupations

 

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The wise man knows that he knows not anything.- G. K. Chesterton.

Perseverance is the currency of faith; difficulty often presents opportunities for faith, as Harvard professor Tyler VanderWeele emphasizes in his book A Theology of Health, which articulates the interconnectedness of wellness, illness, and spirituality (VanderWeel, 2024). What do being a soldier, an athlete, a farmer, and a caregiver have in common? Each faces uncertainty despite their preparation and commitment. A soldier may dedicate themselves to service and still not return home. An athlete can weight train, sleep, and diet relentlessly but never place first. Even the most diligent farmer cannot guarantee a harvest every season. Despite a caregiver's best efforts, it is often impossible to offer relief to those who are suffering. In each case, effort does not guarantee results, yet these archetypes persevere, and resilience and temperance are virtues necessary.

According to VanderWeele (2024), temperance is the practiced virtue of abstaining from excessive pleasure and resisting temptations. Aristotle described temperance as finding the mean—acting with balance rather than in extremes. I have written about that here. Practicing temperance helps us develop resilience, teaching us to persevere when things do not go our way. When faced with setbacks, do we seek solace in faith and our relationship with God, or do we turn to fleeting earthly comforts? VanderWeele (2020), in Religion and Human Flourishing, explains that flourishing involves achieving balance in all areas of life. From a Christian perspective, spiritual flourishing means maintaining a harmonious relationship with God, especially as we approach the final days of life.

References:

Chesterton, G. K. (1925). The Everlasting Man. https://ccel.org/

VanderWeele, T. J. (2020). Spiritual Well-Being and Human Flourishing. In A. B. Cohen, Religion and Human Flourishing: Ed. (pp. 43–54). Baylor University Press. https://hfh.fas.harvard.edu/religious-communities

VanderWeele, T. J. (2024). A Theology of Health: Wholeness and Human Flourishing. University of Notre Dame Press. https://doi.org/10.1353/book.129052

Wisdom vs. Science: Why doing good is good for you

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Can acts of kindness or helping others truly improve health or reduce illness? This central question is supported by recent Harvard research indicating that kindness positively affects well-being. While the idea is not new, its enduring relevance can be traced to ancient Greece, where acts of kindness were believed to bring favor from the gods. For example, The Odyssey, as interpreted by Butler & Dirda (2013), illustrates how Odysseus, despite hardship, upholds himself and receives kindness while he hides as a beggar, highlighting its lasting value, especially in difficult circumstances.

Researchers at Harvard School of Public Health have explored how acts of kindness may impact both physical and mental health (Weziak-Bialowolska et al., 2021). Central to their findings is the idea that strength of character involves consistently acting for the benefit of oneself and others—essentially, practicing kindness. This research reinforces the broader argument that acts of kindness serve not only as a moral virtue but also as a foundation of well-being, resonating with the ethos of the healthcare profession, in which staff are entrusted to show kindness to patients (Westbrook et al., 2022).

Experiences outside research also support the key argument: acts of kindness have meaningful benefits. Will Guidara, a prominent New York restaurant owner, seeks staff motivated by altruism rather than mere personal gain, believing their kindness benefits both themselves and the business (Guidara, 2022, p. 81). This demonstrates the core claim—performing acts of kindness can create a positive environment and promote well-being.

Researchers at The Human Flourishing Institute emphasize that pursuing good through acts of kindness can significantly enhance life satisfaction, reduce anxiety and depression, and improve overall health (Harvard University, n.d.; Weziak-Bialowolska et al., 2021). These findings strengthen the main argument that acts of kindness are not only expressions of goodwill but also practical contributors to health and wellness. Even those outside of helping professions can benefit physically and mentally by incorporating kindness, suggesting that such actions are as vital as diet or exercise in promoting well-being.

References:

Butler, S., & Dirda, M. (2013). The Iliad and the Odyssey: Homer. Barnes and Noble.

Guidara, W. (2022). Unreasonable hospitality: The Remarkable Power of Giving People More Than They Expect . Optimism Press.

Harvard University. (n.d.). The Human Flourishing Program at the Harvard Institute for Quantitative Social Science. https://hfh.fas.harvard.edu/

Westbrook, K. W., Nicol, D., Nicol, J. K., & Orr, D. T. (2022). Effects of Servant Leadership Style on Hindrance Stressors, Burnout, Job Satisfaction, Turnover Intentions, and Individual Performance in a Nursing Unit. Journal of Health Management, 24(4), 670–684. https://doi.org/10.1177/09720634221128100

Weziak-Bialowolska, D., Bialowolski, P., VanderWeele, T. J., & McNeely, E. (2021). Character Strengths Involving an Orientation to Promote Good Can Help Your Health and Well-Being. Evidence From two Longitudinal Studies. American Journal of Health Promotion, 35(3), 388–398. https://doi.org/10.1177/0890117120964083

Fighting On: Reflections on Mortality, Spirituality, and Aging

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We live next to the Santa Clara River here in Southern California. It is not uncommon to see local coyotes emerge from the hills and wander through our neighborhood, especially on these chilly spring mornings. Sometimes, we hear their howls echoing from the dry riverbed in front of our home. Recently, one was struck by a vehicle and left on the roadside until public workers arrived to remove it. Witnessing the death of another coyote made me reflect on life and mortality. As someone who works in healthcare, I regularly confront death, especially when treating patients with heart disease. These experiences, along with the recent loss of a dear coworker, remind me just how short life truly is. As I reflect on this, I think of a line from Browning: “I was ever a fighter, so one fight more, the best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, and bade me creep past” (Browning, as cited in Untermeyer, 1942, p. 876).

These personal and professional encounters have led me to reflect not only on the inevitability of death, but also on how we approach the process of aging. While many people search for the fountain of youth—wondering how to look younger and live longer—the real question might be how to age gracefully rather than bitterly (Brenner, 2023). Graceful aging encompasses not just physical appearance but also mental and psychological well-being, as well as the significance of spirituality as we grow older (Head et al., 2022). In reality, most people seek an insurance policy against death, desiring the promise of heaven or an afterlife. The pursuit of happiness, wellness, and longevity is nearly universal while we are alive, but when these aspirations seem unattainable, only then does “a sort of heaven” become appealing, as Erasmus (1941) observed. Ultimately, what happens after we die depends on one’s spiritual outlook.

Pascal, the renowned French mathematician, suggested there are three main types of people: those who have a relationship with God and strive to fulfill their calling in obedience and service; those who are searching for God but have not yet found Him; and those who neither seek nor have a relationship with Him (Hutchins & Adler, 1952). Scientists have found that aging can be accelerated by unhealthy behaviors, such as smoking or lack of physical activity, and that abundant food can also contribute to shorter lifespans. Brenner (2023), in a review of David Sinclair’s controversial book, Lifespan: Why We Age and Why We Don’t Have To—a book I have not yet read—raises thought-provoking questions about the science and ethics of extending human life. Perhaps part of living is embracing life's brevity?

The Greek poet Lucretius commented (Adler, 1952, p. 36) on the subject of death, suggesting that the siblings of death are brother, agony, and sister, illness, forging an alliance. In summation of closing a reflection essay on life, death, and what is to come, the ancients perhaps can offer some comfort in the form of a salve for all of us, regardless of any religious preference, because of the commonality shared by all, as none of us is immune to its truth.

References:

Adler, Mortimer J. (1952). Lucretius: On the Nature of Things. In The Great Books of the Western World. (Vol. 12, pp. 1-97). Encyclopedia Britannica.

Brenner, C. (2023). A science-based review of the world’s best-selling book on aging. Archives of Gerontology & Geriatrics, 104, N.PAG. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.archger.2022.104825

Erasmus, D. (1941). The Praise of Folly (H. H. Hudson, Trans.; 3rd ed.). Princeton University Press.

Head, J. H., Lawrence, R. M., & Cullinan, R. J. (2022). Ageing. In C. C. H. Cook & A. Powell (Eds.), Spirituality and psychiatry (2nd ed., pp. 355–374). Royal College of Psychiatrists.

Hutchins, R. M., & Adler, M. J. (1952). God. In The Great Ideas: A Syntopicon of Great Books of the Western World (Vol. 2, pp. 543-604). Encyclopedia Britannica.

Untermeyer, L. (1942). A Treasury of Great Poems, English and American: From the foundations of the English spirit to the outstanding poetry of our own time, with lives of the poets and historical settings (2nd ed.). Simon and Schuster.

Satire or Steadfastness: Conscience in a World of 6,000 gods

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According to Erasmus (1941, p. 46), in his satirical work, he made fun of Pythagoras, who concluded that man is miserable. Man's central problem is not that he is miserable, but that he is unable to choose between good and bad at all times. Sure, he can refine himself, engage in university to gather knowledge, work, and invest to become better off than his neighbor which is why he works so hard in the first place, and through personal effort or Epicurean practice, which was an ancient train of thought that the ultimate aim of man is to pursue pleasure as an end in itself (Edwards, p. 5), can attain some peace of mind intermittently. Just look around our world today; those thoughts are not so antiquated as they are in our communities.

Instead, the real struggle lies in the inner workings of the heart and conscience. No matter how much a person debates or denies the existence of conscience, it remains—a persistent voice wrestling within, beyond the reach of self-improvement or external achievement. Can anyone be good or bad? And by extension, answer the question ultimately from a faith perspective or argument of reason or even those who just plain decide to avert the question as our scholars have posited (Hutchins, 1952a, p. 543) entirely, does not negate the fact that the real question remains at the end of the day, is there some type of supernatural being out there, a creator, God, or is man top of the food chain or is there some sort of reward or punishment for being good or bad as it relates to mans interaction with God (Hutchins, 1952b, p. 605)?

I exercise my own personal faith in the God of the Hebrews, or the Christian God, though I understand that many other cultures have their own views of a deity. According to some, there are more than six thousand gods (Hutchins, 1952, p. 544). That's a lot of gods to choose from, worship, obey, and honor. How do we remain steadfast, faithful, persevering, and head to our calling if we follow the Christian God? Paul encouraged early Christians to grow in their knowledge of God (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Colossians 1:10). But our pursuit of faith is not just a matter of belief—it is revealed in how we live. Our actions and priorities, visible in how we spend our time, demonstrate what we truly value and teach others by example.

It is widely accepted that the environment shapes an organism, so Nietzsche argued that human beings are molded by their surroundings and become resilient through ominous conditions (Nietzsche, 1918). Environmental pressures over time produce resilience and resistance to change or destruction. If this is true, then within a theological framework, the environment of a faith-based community powerfully shapes a believer’s faith so that we are not taken captive by a worldly outlook on life, though not always adverse, sometimes as disciples we endure discipline from our heavenly father (The Holy Bible, New International Version, 1999, Colossians 2:8; Hebrews 12:7).

Together in the struggle,

Brian

References:

Edwards, P. (1967). Epicurus. In The encyclopedia of philosophy (Vol. 3, pp. 3-5). essay, Macmillan Company & the Free Press.

Erasmus, D. (1941). The Praise of Folly (H. H. Hudson, Trans.; 3rd ed.). Princeton University Press.

Hutchins, R. M. (1952a). God. In The Great Ideas: A Syntopicon of Great Books of the Western World (Vol. 2, pp. 543-604). Encyclopedia Britannica.

Hutchins, R. M. (1952b). Good and Evin. In The Great Ideas: A Syntopicon of Great Books of the Western World (Vol. 2, pp. 605-636). Encyclopedia Britannica.

Nietzsche, F. (1918). Beyond Good and Evil. Boni and Liveright, Inc.

The Holy Bible: New International Version. (1999). Cornerstone Bible Publishers. (original work published 1973)