Thursday, December 25, 2008

Chistmas Conflict

Christmas seems to be one of those holidays that moves most people to a place of joy. That in itself is really quite commendable as personal joy is something that is often projected outward and in it’s own way reminds others that they have reason to feel joy also. A casual observer would be moved by the inherent happiness and well being exuded by a joyous person without really understanding why. In the United States, a predominately Christian nation, we associate Christmas with the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus. Someone that knew nothing of Jesus the Christ but witnessed the behavior of someone that did, in this season, would certainly feel and share in that person’s joyfulness just because it is there. Being human, we relate to the feelings of those around us.

I’ve always liked the Christmas holiday. When I was a child, it was such a wonderful thing that I looked forward to all year. My parents always had a traditional sort of celebration with Christmas dinner, a decorated tree and the exchanging of gifts. We always did this on Christmas Eve and in the innocence of my youth, I had the gifts of Santa Claus coming the next day. What great stuff for a child. So much candy, homemade sweet treats, Christmas music and often enough, snow.

When I grew up, the holiday still had most of the charm I’d experienced as a child but I did become more aware of the supposed real reason for the season. The birth of our Savior, right? In that light, the commercialism of Christmas seemed kind of wrong somehow. I still celebrated all of it in the same ways but it did seem to have less luster for me. I didn’t look forward to it throughout the year like I used to.

I got married along the way to where I’m at now. My wife and I had the sort of holiday that most people have. For a few years anyway. At some point I felt like I needed to live my life as a Christian and that’s when I met her grandfather. He was a devout Christian man and during a long visit with us we talked about Christmas, among other things. His take on it was that Christmas had nothing to do with Christianity. Though I respected and admired him, I still wanted to celebrate Christmas in the way that I always had. My wife didn’t and insisted that we should no longer recognize Christmas as a holiday that stood as a reminder of the birth of our Savior. Her take on it was that Christmas had pagan roots and to be involved in it was an affront to God himself. I really did need to research the history behind Christmas. It didn’t take much digging to see that the holiday does indeed have pagan roots. Traditions we follow today were instituted by the Christian church to take the place of pagan rituals. This all in an effort to convert the pagans to Christianity. The decorated tree, holly, mistletoe, caroling, gift giving, Santa Claus. All originate in paganism. Many historical scholars, and quite probably many theologians, affirm that the birth of Jesus was most likely in the month of September, not in December. The date 25 December comes from pagan celebrations that apparently start with some god named Mithras and that was eventually converted to celebrations of the Roman god Saturn. Saturnalia supposes that the sun dies on the 22 of December and is resurrected on the 25th. Three days. Note the difference between sun and Son. Saturnalia was an exceedingly wicked celebration by the way. Oddly, the woman that was my wife put me on this path of understanding but is today an avowed pagan herself and denounces Jesus as the Son of God and as any type of Lord and Savior.

I lived my life for approximately 25 years in rejection of Christmas celebrations. Today in my intelligent mind, I understand that Christmas isn’t really about the birth of Christ. The bible does not tell us to celebrate His birth. If anything, it tells us to celebrate his death. That’s where the real hope is.

All that being said, I can tell you that today I’m okay with Christmas. It may have pagan roots but how many other things in our lives do we go with the flow on and have no idea about their origins? Tooth fairies. Easter bunnies. New Years Eve celebrations. Halloween. Step on a crack……
I talked to my mom once about the whole pagan/Christmas thing. She told me that Christmas is for children. How true that short answer is. Life is hard on planet earth for the most part. How can it be so wrong to allow a child (or the child in our adult hearts) to have a few days of joy in the celebration of a good meal, a decorated tree, the giving and receiving of gifts, songs of praise for our Savior, peace and goodwill toward our fellow man? I love my Lord and am here to serve Him in whatever small way that I can. I just don’t believe that he is so harsh as to condemn us for celebrating this holiday.

I say to you Merry Christmas. May the knowledge that a King was born and ultimately died for you, that there is hope for us all, bring joy to your heart. Peace on earth and goodwill toward men.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Birthdays

Today is the birthday of my dearest friend. Though I suspect she isn’t all that excited about it, I’m glad that she is here in this life for me to be close to. I believe that we basically feel the same about birthdays but I’m not so sure how deeply she thinks about such things. It seems odd sometimes when you’re with someone that thinks so much like you do. Has the same sort of perspective about life. Has the same sort of likes and dislikes. Is moved emotionally and spiritually by the same kind of things and places that bring that special inner peace and comfort. I’m pretty thankful that we can be together and it makes me happy to know that she is who she is. I’ve got some of my own thoughts about getting older that I’d like to talk about here but in the end, I want her to know that she is first in my thoughts on this day.

I wish that I could say lots of great stuff about birthdays, as an adult. I’m not so sure they mean that much to me anymore though. As I’ve gotten older, they seem to be just another day. Not some occasion to celebrate. I think some people look at them with optimism and see it all as another year of growth, wisdom and even survival. On the other end of the spectrum there is fatalism. One year closer to the ultimate dirt nap that everyone takes eventually. Body is breaking down with weaker eyes, stiffer joints and the realization that youthful vigor is a thing of the past. I suppose that much of how we see life, birthdays or any other day for that matter, depends on how well we have made decisions about our lives in the past. People are so diverse and individualistic that there is no accounting for why someone chooses their steps in the way they do. Most of us really don’t think about the consequences of our actions in day-to-day living. We just do what we feel because it’s seems right at the time. Looking back on my life there were decisions that I made which seemed innocuous at the time but had long-term effects, some good and some not so good. I suppose that’s part of what shapes us into our own unique, individual selves.

One way to see it is that birthdays are like mile markers on the highway. Traveling on life’s journey, those markers reflect the passing years. We become smarter about the trip but understand that the farther we go, the less chance we have to go back and take a different course. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The open road is before us with all of its potential adventure, anticipation and hope. You never know what’s around the next bend and it could lead to more fulfillment and happiness than you have ever known.

The last few years, on my own birthday, I’ve had the distinct sensation that I’m still here. It’s as if I wake up on that day and realize that I’m still alive and for whatever reason, I still have some earthly purpose. Time is calling me into a continuation of life. The problem I have though, most of the time, is that I don’t know what that purpose is. Once upon a time, I thought I knew but things changed in my life and I had to come to grips with the realization that I was on a different path. Of course, the decisions I’ve made put me on this road but often it feels as if the turn was sudden and abrupt. Like an instantaneous left that changed everything that I thought I knew about life. Dreams that seemed so real and so attainable at one time are like misty memories that are so far in the distance. As time goes by, I’m realizing that there aren’t enough years left to travel that far. Sitting here, writing this, I long for answers about destination and purpose. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the questions are that would frame the answers I seek. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where my understanding about my existence has narrowed a good bit. All I know now is to do the best I can with what’s left. Love one another. Be kind to one another. Be a good steward of the earth and the things you are given. Understand that life isn’t random. There is a time to give and take. A time to stay put and a time to move. Just do the best you can with what you’ve got and hope for the best.

All that being poured forth out of my heart and mind, I’d like to visit my friend’s day again. This is her day and as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing too good for her. She raised a fine young man that is both fair and bright, on her own. If you knew this young man, you would be proud to claim him as yours. Though she possesses a college degree, she never made a lot of money. Somehow, she managed to provide everything they needed and gave that child a safe, secure and comfortable upbringing. There are lots of personal things that make her a truly remarkable woman but you wouldn’t need to hear them if you knew her. I think her daily existence speaks for itself. In the end, I’d just like to say to you dear heart:

Thank you for being there all of the time.
Thank you for listening to me.
Thank you for understanding my, sometimes woeful, existence.
Thank you for the wonderful back rubs.
Thank you for the great lunches that you insist on making for me.
Thank you for the morning coffee.
Thank you for just being who you are and for being my friend.
Love.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Veteran’s Day

This evening after work, I went into a grocery store to buy something. It’s a small, nice place and just feels local when you walk in. The cashiers are all young, school aged girls with nametags that tell you who they are. Complete with hand drawn hearts and smiley faces on them. They’re always friendly, polite and respectful and I appreciate that. As I checked out, I asked the young lady if she goes to church. When she said yes and told me where she goes, I said to her that she could go to any church she wanted to. I mentioned that she could choose any denomination or faith she wanted without any real retribution or recrimination from anyone that mattered. She looked puzzled and I told her that she could thank a Veteran for that freedom. I honestly don’t think she really understood that. What a shame that many of our young people (and older people for that matter) can’t really appreciate what it means to live in an open and free society. That the very freedoms they take for granted were bought with a price. Men and women throughout our nation’s history have sacrificed their own personal freedom, their psychological well being and their lives for their fellow countrymen. How can anyone not be grateful and thankful that there are those who would do such a thing for them? I believe that this too is grace.

Some questions I’d like to ask are:

Like English as your primary language?
Like the church of your choice?
Like the right to vote?
Like to know that crooked politicians can be held accountable for their actions?
Like the freedom speech?
Like to just get in your car and drive wherever you please, when you please?
Like to decide whether you're gonna work a particular job or not?
Like being able to live wherever you want?
Like the freedom to own a gun?
Like the freedom to have as many kids as you want?
Like having ultimate say in where or how your children will be educated?

I suspect you can come up with a few other freedoms, that are so easily taken for granted, if you think about it.

The odd thing about most vets is that they don’t exalt themselves. They’re not braggarts. They served their country selflessly and didn’t ask for anything in return. Things like Honor, Duty, Commitment and the understanding that someone had to do it are enough for them. These people are quiet heroes and they deserve our respect and admiration. If you know someone that has served this great nation in that capacity, please tell them you appreciate it. Thank them for their sacrifice and service.

Freedom. What a great thing this is. Be thankful for it.
Thank a Veteran for it.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Working for a Living

I’ve got a pretty good job and I like what I do for the most part. I’m thankful that it’s a part of my life and that it takes care of my needs. I guess that when it really comes down to it, I’m just doing time on earth and need to be gainfully employed at something but it’s more than that. When my day begins, the boss gives us a little pep talk; I get in my company provided vehicle and head out, giving service to those who need it. There is a lot of inherent trust on the companies part to just turn me loose and not be concerned that I’ll do the best I can for them. I like that and I try to give them 100% everyday. There is a certain amount of freedom in the fact that there is no one looking over my shoulder. I’m not being micro managed. I’ve been trained and given all the tools I need to complete my daily tasks. It’s really a pretty great job.

I like people and during my day, I’m always meeting someone new. The interesting thing is that there’s so much variety in the individuals that make up my customers. I’ve laughed with some. Shared stories of life with some. Prayed with some. Though there is the occasional crank, most folks are glad to see me when I show up. I’ve had some of my customers try to feed me, asked me to come back as a friend, even asked me out on a date once or twice. Though the technical aspects of my job are interesting and sometimes challenging, it’s the freedom of going place to place unsupervised and the interaction with others that make it most worthwhile.

That all being said, I wonder sometimes what daily living might be like if I didn’t require a job to survive. What would I do if the need for financial resources were already met? What if I had the freedom to do what I wanted with each day? I think most people understand that work is a good thing and that all of us need to be doing something productive. Why can’t it be in the pursuit of things we love? Like I said, I like my job but in all honesty I’m not in love with it.

There are lots of things that interest me. Natural resources, people in need, caring for the elderly, woodcraft, food and art to name a few. What it must be like to have the financial resources to contribute to worthy things, helping others and our planet. Living life from a philanthropic perspective. For me, helping the park service maintain hiking trails would be a wonderful thing. Volunteering clean up help on spoiled shorelines, saving whales, visiting old people and listening to the stories they have to tell, lending a hand in a soup kitchen, contributing what skills I have with Habitat for Humanity. These things are all work too. Yes?

I’ve always loved woodwork. Most of the things I’ve done though have come about because of a need, my own personal requirements or those of others. It would be great to have the freedom to create some beautiful or functional thing just because you wanted to see the fruits of your own hands labor. Having the time to learn and grow at some craft that gives you pleasure and possibly brings joy to another person. Just the idea of helping a child see that there is more to life than video games and the internet. Helping to open young eyes and minds to the possibility that they can have vision and purpose outside the limitations of the high tech world we live in today. That life need not be lived at breakneck speed. That there is peace and comfort in doing simple things that bring joy to themselves and to the world.

I suppose that some of these designs can still be accomplished while working the 9 to 5 life that most of us are in. It’s time that limits me mostly, that and money. More accurately, the absence of those things. Though I like my job and am thankful for it, I wish that I had the freedom to pursue things that might do some real good. There are many aspects of our lives that are truly blessings and that alone is much to be thankful for. I just sometimes see the world today with all of it’s armed conflicts, politics, starvation, homelessness, orphans, divorce, drugs, gangs, social disfunction; you name it and wonder what it could be like in my little corner had I the resources to make a difference. Wouldn’t it be just beautiful if you could start helping by having the time and finances to expand your mind and encourage just a little oasis of peace and joy?

Thursday, October 30, 2008

A Vacation for the Weary

I’m really a cool to cold weather kind of person. Though it’s uncomfortable to work in the heat of summer, it has never been much relief to take a week off during that season. That’s why I wait and suffer through the terrible humidity. The sweltering heat of the southeast, that seems to go on forever. Really, it starts getting hot here in March and continues through September. Even into October sometimes. Though I’m from the south and love many things about this part of the country, it’s just too hot most of the year.

Today is the last day of my coveted time off. It’s peaceful here in my house. The heat is off and the window fan is running quietly. No television on this day. Reading and reflecting. Resting. I have somewhere to be this evening but for now I get to enjoy the last threads of a wonderful thirteen day respite from the grind.

In the past, I haven’t done much of anything during this time. Sit around the house mostly. Maybe visit family for a few days in another state. This year was a little different though. I took the opportunity to spend some time in the mountains with my dear friend. The place we went is my home state and it felt like I had come home. It’s been about a week since we returned and I have that feeling of lose again. Pining away for someplace I’d rather be. I’ve traveled all over the earth and seen many wonderful and beautiful places but the old saying rings true with me. There’s no place like home. Maybe someday it will be my place again.

I did visit with my family some. My dad has long since past away but my mother is still there. She doesn’t live in the family home anymore. With the onset of dementia it was safer for her to stay in an assisted living facility. It is quite sad to see someone you love lose his or her cognitive ability. A vague remembrance in the eyes, the obvious mental struggle to put the pieces together of who this person standing before you is. I love my mother dearly but I hope that I don’t end up in the same place. I honestly believe that I’d rather pass out of this life than to end up in that way. Though my time there was brief, I did get to visit with two of my brothers, my brother’s wife and my sister. It was really a joy to reconnect with my siblings. Their lives are so interesting and I am so very proud to be a part of our family. I wish there was some significant thing that I could do for them all. Some unequivocal thing that would always bring them peace, warmth and joy when they thought of me. I miss them already.

When I returned, it was time to pick up my own kids for the weekend. We always have a good time and I think all of our hearts ache when we part again. My youngest daughter, who is ten, has been bugging me to take her roller skating. When I was young and in school, I used to love skating. In the little town where I grew up, the man that owned the rink would drive an old school bus, that was painted white, around to pick kids up and then take them back home. It was like a dollar to get in and a dollar to rent the wheels. Though my dad gave me a small, weekly allowance I’d rake leaves, cut grass or collect bottles for the deposits so I’d have a little extra money when I went. It was good to buy a cheeseburger and have enough to buy the girl of interest a cherry coke. I’d skate my heart out and smooch with most any girl that was willing. Good times and mostly just clean fun. Well I took my daughter. It was the first time I’d been on skates in probably 30 years. Honestly, I was surprised at how well I was doing. Frontward, backward, even spinning around in a circle to stop. That’s when my girl wanted to hold hands and skate together. Now she does okay by herself but flails those arms around a good bit to keep her balance. I thought, no big deal, she’ll settle down if holding my hand. Right. We were probably in our third or forth go round when those little arms started to swing. In my effort to settle her down and keep her from falling, we both ended up on the floor. The one thing I didn’t remember about skating was just how much it hurt to land hard on that rink floor. Man, I could hardly walk for two days. My hip still hurts a bit and it’s been nearly a week.

Well, it’s been a good vacation. I really do feel rested and rejuvenated in heart and mind. I’m not looking forward to going back to work. I guess that’s pretty common with most folks. I am thankful that I do have a good job that is providing for my needs. God be praised. Its just time to start that long wait again.

Heavy sigh.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Service in Today's World

Have you ever noticed that the larger an organization becomes, the less service oriented it becomes? Have you ever asked yourself just what does the word “service,” mean? A well-known dictionary gives us several definitions of service. Here are a few of those provided.
-The occupation or function of serving. Employment as a servant.
-The work performed by one that serves. Contribution to the welfare of others.
-The act of serving. A helpful act. Useful labor that does not produce a tangible commodity.

Years ago when men and women had spent time in the military, it was common for them to say “I’m in the service” or “I served with the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard”. And who or what were they serving? Our country. When in far-flung regions of the world, do you not think that they really wanted to be at home with family and friends? Those people certainly weren’t in it for any sort of financial gain. I’ve been there and done that and can say from personal experience that the pay isn’t very good. Free medical? Again, that’s pretty dodgy as well. Most of the MDs in the military service probably couldn’t make it on the outside. From what a friend tells me, who has some personal experience with this particular matter, most of the doctors in the military couldn’t get an internship anywhere at a civilian hospital. They just barely made it through med school and the military was about the only place they could practice. That’s not to say they aren’t good people with a caring attitude but it does raise questions in one’s mind about their technical skill as doctors.

I once went to a leadership class while in the military. You know, they told us that the main reasons people stay in the military are “intangibles”. Things like a personal sense of duty. Knowing that they are such a very small percentage of this country’s populace that are willing to stay in it, despite the hardships it imposes on it’s members. Honor, integrity and dedication are also intangible qualities and are part of why some people make a career of military service.

There are many occupations that are fundamentally service oriented. Take teachers, nurses, coaches, utility workers, mothers, fathers and others. Even though most people in these fields do rightfully expect monetary compensation for their services, it’s that “spirit and attitude of service” that seems to make the difference to the person being served. I would personally be more willing to pay a higher price for quality service, that spirit and attitude of service, knowing that the person providing is going above and beyond that which is merely required, than I would for rendered mediocrity.

I am employed in a service-oriented occupation. When I first came to work for this company, I had numerous training sessions on customer service. Both external and internal customers. Not only am I responsible to provide a high quality product to my end users (customers) but also to the myriad of others that work in that with me. When my company was smaller, before it was absorbed by a larger entity, quality service was a much more important priority. I am honestly disheartened by the way things are going now. In example, I had to provide service for a very large business customer the other day but there were problems with what they had ordered. In an effort to resolve these issues for them I had to interface with a few other offices that could have easily made the necessary corrections to bring everything in line. The response I got from each of them was brusque and rude. An attitude of indifference to the end user and to me. My company is nearly three times as large as it was a year ago. What happened to the spirit and attitude of quality service that we were so collectively proud of? If things continue the way they are now, I see dark days ahead.

Maybe it’s my military training that makes me so sensitive to this aspect of life. The quality of work that I performed there could have realistically made the difference in whether someone survived the day. It was of the utmost importance. I had people’s lives in my hands. Out here, the consequences of shoddy workmanship are not so dire but the principle is the same. If I do lousy work the quality of someone’s life is affected in an adverse manner. To top that off, the customer is ultimately paying my wages and getting in return an aggrieved state of existence.

The company I am with grades my daily work with a system of qualifiers that are at best nebulous but some of the items looked at are valid. If a customer calls back and reports the service is unsatisfactory, it goes in a negative check box on my daily performance. I don’t want that to happen. Not because of the personal tally sheet that is maintained on me but more because that human being, that expects good service, is dissatisfied in some way. I want to put myself in their shoes when working for them. As if it were my money that was being spent. I believe that my time on earth is limited. I believe that there is a reckoning in my spiritual life. Is it really worth taking shortcuts here on earth when the consequences of those actions have everlasting potential? I am reminded of the apostle’s words in Ephesians 6:
Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart, as unto Christ;
Not with eye service, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;
With good will doing service, as to the Lord, and not to men.

Has our society become so “self” absorbed that we cannot see the value of doing the right thing in all things that we do? It seems to me that the prevalent attitude in our country today is one of “it’s all about me”. Whether a company or an individual, it’s really quite shameful. If this perspective is a result of progress and technological enhancement in our lives, I believe that I would personally be better off living my life a hundred years ago.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Loss of a Loved One

The 10th of September was a significant day for me this year. I lost a loved one that had been with me most of my life. I had to have a tooth removed. It was the first time I’ve lost one of those dear ones since I had my wisdom teeth removed by the U.S. Navy when I was 19.

I noticed when I got there that some things had changed in the outer office. There was a new receptionist who asked me to fill out new forms. I wanted to say that nothing has changed with me. That I had been coming here for years and my information was the same as always. I took the clipboard from her though and filled in the bare essentials. She seemed okay with that. I think part of that process is just an acknowledgement by the patient that the forms, an extension of the person that cares for them, have power and purpose. I realize that some of the information contained in them is essential but certainly not all of it. By example, I went to a consulting doctor’s office once at the request of my family doctor. There were, of course, forms to fill out and lots of them. The lady handling the forms said that I must sign in agreement that the doc could take photos and basically use them any way he wanted. I told her that I would not sign because I didn’t want any photos taken. She told me that it was okay to disagree and that no photos would be taken if I didn’t want but I still had to sign the form saying I agreed to the photo documentation. It turned into this minor altercation but in the end it was all about validating the forms and, I suspect, the power and purpose of the forms tender.

The dentist’s assistant eventually escorted me back to room 4 where she looked at my problem with a mirror, took an x-ray and developed a worried look. “I’m not sure if we can save it”, she said. “Lets have the doc decide”, I said. She gave me 2 pills, started the gas and the mission was underway. Some time passed and the doc came in. After checking things out he confirmed the assistant’s assessment.

It broke off at the gum line about a week ago and according to my dentist there was decay at the point of bifurcation. “It can’t be restored” were his actual words. Though I kept a brave face and demeanor, in my heart and mind I was grieved at the news. I felt a quiet mourning deep inside. Like I imagine someone must feel when they hear some devastating news that is, without question, unavoidable or irreversible. Part of me was about to be gone, never to return.

My dentist is a great guy and I really like him better than any other I’ve had. Straight forward with just the right amount of sensitivity to my consciousness. He doesn’t lecture me on what I should be doing or how I’ve failed in the immaculate pursuit of oral hygiene over the years I don’t want to hear a lecture when I go in there. I just want help. Now. I am old enough and self aware enough to know where I’m at in all of that. I know I’ve neglected that some. I don’t need or want some pristine judgment passed on my shortcomings by the hygienist who has, by the way, a perfect dental presentation to the world. I just want to preserve what I have for as long as I can. My dentist is good with that. We’re on a first name basis and I feel as comfortable with him as I do with a friend. I trust him and his judgment. If he said it had to come out, then it had to come out.

After the numbing effect began to settle in, they came back into the room. Another young lady slipped in quietly behind them and started to suit up. An observer I suppose. As gowns, masks and gloves were donned, it all started to look sterile and impersonal. Down to business. I heard him mutter “15” and the assistant handed him something. There was some mild poking around and I heard her say, “sure you’ve got it”? “Yeah” says the doc. That’s when I felt something pinching my tongue and pulled it out of the bind. “Well, thought I had it”. A moment later I could feel the fibers of my gum reluctantly releasing the tooth. Like it must feel to be desperately holding on to a hand that is being pulled away from your grasp. Someone you love being pulled away from you, never to return. As it happened, I thought about my loss. I felt regret, anguish and anger. How would I continue to live comfortably without this tooth? Absorbed with my loss, I suddenly recalled something I witnessed when I first came into the office. The new receptionist had handed me the forms and I’d noticed that there was a band-aid on her index finger. Half of her finger was missing. It stood out in sharp contrast to the bright and happy nature she displayed. In that initial moment of personal loss for myself I realized how insignificant it was by comparison to some real tragedy. The loss of a finger, a pronouncement of cancer, the death of a family member. Those are real tragedies. Suddenly, feelings of anguish for my tooth evaporated. Though I will miss it, I’m sure that I will adapt. I guess that part of an event like losing a tooth is also the understanding that I’m getting older. I’m not necessarily the superman that I once envisioned myself to be. Even well maintained machines breakdown in time. The high side of that is as time takes it’s toll and we lose functionality in some areas of life, we develop abilities and wisdom in other areas. Sometimes it seems like we are diminished when we lose things we love and that we are lesser for it. If the truth be told though, it forces character on us and helps us grow, not wither in ways that really matter.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Mountains

I've always loved the mountains. There just seems to be something spiritual, mystical and powerful about them. It's as if they want to take you into their arms and love you. Like parents that take a small child into arms of strength and security. I suppose some people feel that way about the ocean. It has power and purpose also. I spent a good deal of my adult life on the ocean though and can tell you from first hand experience that the sea can be and is benevolent at times but can more often be that harsh mistress you hear of than lofty peaks are. Mountainous areas can have their treacherous faces as well but somehow, I always felt better prepared for the surprises they offered.

I've been to lots of places on this earth. I've seen and traveled in mountains of such diverse character that you wonder why a generic term like "mountains" covers such a wide variety of geologic formations. Some are barren for the most part and it is amazing to me how life thrives in what appears to be an area akin to a moonscape. The magnificence of the Rockies with their transitions from one life zone to the next. Lush valleys, verdant forests, above treeline. They are almost overwhelming in their presence. Volcanic ranges with peaks that continually send up smoke signals, telling the world that they are awake and very much alive. I've seen Vesuvius, Etna (which was actually having a very minor eruption while I was there), St. Helen's, Baker, Redoubt. Beautiful and awesome in the physical power they present. For all of our technology and early warning capabilities, there is really nothing we can do with a volcanic eruption but live through it. Volcanoes are exempt from man's dominion. As much as I do love all of the mountain regions I've visited, my favorites are the Appalachians. I'm from the Southeast and though I never lived in the Great Smoky Mountains, my family visited there often when I was growing up. Maybe that's why I have such an affinity for them.

Our trips were mostly for a couple of weeks at a time but to me, it seemed like I was coming home when we got there. The air was cool and fresh. The people always so friendly and open. Things seemed slower there. Food tasted better there. Certainly, we did tourist things on these trips. What boy child wouldn't enjoy Ghost Town in the Sky. Everyone in period cowboy clothing, gunfights in the street, saloons and Can-Can girls. Gift shops with all manner of trinkets designed to remind you of your trip. Live and wooden Indians (Native Americans) dressed in traditional clothing. Traditional native dances and stories. These things were all great but the best part, for me, was the mountains themselves. We would take long hikes through the forest, ever climbing upward, to be rewarded with views that were just magnificent. Sometimes the tree leaves were green below, sometimes a tapestry of color. The waterfalls, some large and some not so large seemed to invite you into the coolness of their bounty. Looking back, I see it now as if they were saying "I bring you water and life". There were times when we would stop by the side of the road and fill mason jars with spring water that flowed down from the rocks. It was cold and good and we had no fear of bacteria. Never seemed to have any effect on us other than refreshment. I used to love taking my shoes and socks off and walking in the rocky streams, fishing or looking for fish. I don't think I ever caught any but that wasn't really the point. Some days, we just drove in and around the area we were visiting. Old log cabins that appeared to have been standing for a hundred years. Roadside stands that sold fruit, vegetables and honey. Local people wearing overalls and old gingham dresses. Men sitting on the porches of old stores playing bluegrass. My dad often liked to stop and talk with the men and I'd get to sit and listen. They just seemed like nice folks to me. Now, as an adult, I wish that I could talk with those people who had so much knowledge of how things were there, both then and in their past. I realize now how hard life might have been for some of those mountain folk. Struggling to get by. Doing the best they could with what they had. I suppose they are all gone now.

Though most of the time we stayed in motels while visiting, sometimes we camped out. When we did camp, it was mostly in the national park camp grounds. That was okay with me. We had the smell of wood smoke and food cooked over the fire. The bath houses (when we had them) were convenient and there were other campers to talk with. It was always fun to swap stories of things we had seen and done during our visit. I always wanted to stay near the stream so I could hear the babbling and burbling of the water. The sound reminding me of quiet chatter and laughter. The stream passing by, aware of the people in the campground but not concerned with them. Absorbed in it's own existence.

Much has changed there over the years. Air pollution has become worse. I don't believe that I would drink water straight from the rocks anymore. All manner of people have moved there from all over the world. It's a lot more crowded now. I don't suppose you can blame anyone for wanting to live there though. The mountains there are still beautiful. Still peaceful. There is still the sense that the mountains want to embrace you. In this fast paced world we live in, I think most people want to find a location to settle that offers comfort and peace. Out of the rat race.

Usually, when we look back at things in life, we see with much more clarity than we do in the present. Foresight can be a wonderful thing when you have it. Today, I'm wishing that I'd had enough foresight to buy land there so many years ago. Not for any kind of financial gain but to have that quiet cove to rest in until my time comes. Who knows. It could still happen. If so, maybe I could live long enough and gather enough lore about life in the mountains to pass on to someone that would be interested. Keeping truth and legends alive for another generation or two.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

A Home of Your Own

I think most people want a place of their own, a place they call home. There is something comforting about the thought that at the end of the day, you get to go home. Sanctuary. A place of rest and peace. All of your things are there. It may be nothing more than a comfortable couch and your cat but it's yours. It's you.

During my life, I've lived in a couple of homes that were mine. Even though they were old and needed lots of love and care, they were mine. My first house was a simple, craftsman style, cottage sort of place. It was by far my favorite. I put every extra dime I made, over 5 years, into it. The original owner was a lady that never married. She grew up in the house that her father built and eventually had to sell it because of heart trouble. Almost 60 years under one roof. That's pretty amazing. I was in military service at that time and ultimately had to sell it due to a transfer. Though I wanted to leave the duty station I was at, I did not want to leave my home. It had become part of who I was. The bright part of selling it though was that the buyer was a lady that had grown up in that neighborhood. She had moved away early in her life and had not lived in the area for more than 20 years. She really wanted that house and we did everything we could to make that happen for her. She wanted to go home and we understood that.

A lot of time has passed since then. I have often thought about the man that built my first house and why he built it the way he did. It would be easy to think that the design and plans he followed were the most expedient for him at the time, but I don't want to think that way. I believe that he had more in his heart and mind than an attitude of "just need to get it done". He was building a home for his family. Something I always wanted to do. That house was basically a conventional, stick built home. I like that just fine and may, some day, build one similar to it but as the years have passed I've become more interested in alternative building methods.

I started to learn about other ways of building from Mother Earth News. It has always been a pretty good source of back to the land kind of information. Some of their politics aside, most of the articles dealt with how to do things economically and in ways that were Earth friendly. One thing leads to another and pretty soon I had books dealing with all manner of ideas for personal shelter. I've seen house plans that call for old automobile tires, rammed earth, straw bales, underground and materials scrounged from the local dump. I've always liked logs. Especially the squared off type with dovetail corners. One summer, I went to a timber framing school in upstate NY for a week, followed by a week of how to build with cord wood. I really like that concept. The strength of a timber frame with cord wood walls as in-fill between the frame members. It's just basically masonry and firewood but can be quite beautiful if you use a little creativity in the process. The best thing about building with an alternative mindset is that in most all instances, the cost is very low by comparison to conventional building. Most people that I've known of in life that built this way, didn't have mortgages. They built as they could with the material they could acquire over time. In your mind you might think "how could anything alternative be as nice as what the common real estate market has to offer". I want to say that I have seen some of these places with my own eyes and most all are more beautiful and comforting than anything that money can buy.

Just because we are adults does not mean that we cannot dream and ultimately make our dreams a reality. I hope to build my own home someday. I don't know exactly what kind of house it will be or what method I'll use to build it. I just know that I want my own home again. A place that is mine. My sanctuary. My place of rest and comfort. Maybe in the end, someone else will live in it and think, "this was someones home".

Did you ever watch the Lord of the Rings movies that New Line produced? Bilbo's house at Bag End had a beautiful round door that was painted green and supported by the most ornate and wonderful hand wrought iron work. That's my kind of door.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Illusion of Winter Past

As I commuted to work yesterday it began to drizzle rain and the sky was lowering. Since it is August and the temperature is at least 75 by the time I get going, I had the air conditioner on. The sensation of overcast sky with light rain and cool air reminded me of late fall/early winter where I grew up. By comparison to where I live now, we had real winter there. We would most always have at least one good ice storm. As an adult I understand the inconvenience of that kind of weather, but as a kid, power outages, slippery roads and damage from broken tree limbs could never have entered my mind as anything that mattered. An ice storm was the most beautiful of all weather. It covered everything. Trees, power lines, blades of grass took on a whole new persona. With the sun blotted out by low clouds, it all seemed sort of ominous and over bearing. As if everything had acquired some new but benevolent power. Like some coat of armor that nature had bestowed on it's outside creatures, just to show humans that it could. In the gray light, it was cold and quiet outside. It made me realize how small that I really was. I remember feeling at peace with the world during those storms.

As the freezing rain came down and the temperature dropped, we would all watch it unfold. Outside for a while and inside through the windows. You could hear the incessant, light tapping of the ice crystals against the house. Everyone moving quietly, not saying much. If we were fortunate, from my point of view, it would go on all night. I remember drifting off to sleep listening to the light patter of the ice and rain.

The best part of an ice storm is the next morning. Looking back, I am still amazed at how it would transform my outside world. If the sun came out, everything glittered. Bejeweled with billions of diamonds. When I walked in the yard the grass would crunch under my steps. All the leaves and berries on our holly tree a wonderful, shiny, green and red. Each individual green pine needle coated with it's own layer. Icicles would often hang off the edge of the roof. My little brother and I would pick them off and eat them as if they were the most delicious ice pop treats. We would use them as swords and throw them as spears. The adults would complain and we would laugh with delight. How wonderful to be caught at that moment in time.

Maybe I'll live in a place like that again someday. I hope so. I hope that I never lose the sense of magical wonder in such a thing. I long for winter but especially the winters of my youth.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Right or Left?

The other day I was cruising along to work and passed a pickup truck that was just sort of ambling along in the slow lane. As I got close, I could see a sticker in the rear window that said "I think, therefore I am Republican". I suppose he believed that Democrats don't think about much of anything more important than how they feel. It seemed like the statement was just another version of an age old contrast. Left/Right. Me/You. Up/Down. Sweet/Salty. It reminded me of a commercial I saw on the TV recently where this woman was advocating the use of some new birth control drug. On the one side the girl appears to be conservative and straight laced. On the other, she is casual and carefree. It's the same girl but with two different perspectives on life. Conservative girl is logical. Casual girl is emotional. I guess the guy in the truck probably considered himself logical and would never lower his perspective to the simple state of being emotional. Politically anyway.

In my opinion, the leaders of our country need to be logical. They need to be thinking about the next steps for our country. How our actions today are going to effect our history tomorrow. That is important to me. However, it's also important that these leaders are sensitive to the needs of the people that put them in office. What good is it to be so far to the right that we lose our understanding of the needs of our fellow countrymen? Or to be so far left that we can't get the business of America done in a timely and efficient manner? We put our trust in those politicians. We the people understand that our country must be strong but our leaders must remember that we have human necessities that must be met. We want our leaders to remember the humanity of our nation as well as the potential power that our country can project.

I personally don't care what political party someone is affiliated with. I want to know that whoever is elected is a person of character, ethics, understanding and compassion. I want that person to be strong. I want that person to be thoughtful, to think. I also want that person to be have a strong feeling for humanity. I don't care if they pronounce themselves Republican, Democrat, Independent, whatever. Those are just labels that, in my opinion, don't mean anything. I want leaders with good minds and good hearts that have the best interests of the United States in the forefront of their daily existence.

I guess that I'm neither right or left or center for that matter. Surely, there is someone in this country that can fill the shoes that I imagine must be worn by the leader of this great nation.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

A Burning Analogy

While driving to work recently, I saw in the distance a plumb of black smoke rising in the distance. As I crested a hill, I could see that there was a vehicle of some sort engulfed in flames. It was one of those moments when you ask yourself "why do I not have a camera with me". As I got closer I could see that it was a minivan and the fire was a conflagration. The next thought I had was how it could, at any moment, explode.

What I didn't notice, until I got closer, was that the driver was quickly walking away from the fire. He was an average looking guy. About 40 with longish hair, wearing jeans and a ball cap. Carrying one of those igloo lunch boxes that have the little button on the side that you push and the top slides over sideways. What struck me as interesting was that he was looking back over his shoulder as he headed north. I'm sure his thoughts were somewhere on the order of "glad I got out in time". In the state where I reside, the only insurance required for drivers is liability. It was an older van. Probably a work vehicle for the guy. He very well may have been thinking with regret, "what am I gonna do now".

In this day of extravagant gasoline prices, I think a lot of people are trying to rethink what our next steps are going to be in dealing with dwindling natural resources. The increase in prices for fossil fuels is having a direct impact on lots of other commodities that we have, for so long, taken for granted. Who really considered how corn would play such a significant role in the initial response to the fuel crisis? Farmers have probably understood this for years but the average Joe or Joan most likely never considered such a thing. The prices of beef, chicken, milk, etc. have all climbed higher and higher. The basic staples of life are getting so expensive that many people are having to cut back or find alternative means to supply their daily food needs. It's almost as if we are working at the daily grind just to subsist. Making just enough money to pay for the fuel to get to and from work so we can make enough money to buy more fuel to get to and from work. A vicious circle. Where's the quality of life in that?

When I noticed the man walking away from the burning minivan, looking over his shoulder, it struck me as a sort of metaphor or analogy about the average person's attitude regarding the times we live in today. We have lived with so much for so long that we have quite literally taken the bounty of the earth for granted. In the United States, we are such wasteful consumers in a general sense. You all know this to be true. The look on the man's face, as I passed by at 60mph seemed to be one of resolution. His face seemed to reflect a new beginning. An understanding that we must turn our back on the methods and accepted practices of recently past generations. We must move forward. We must embrace new understandings of how we will live life here on earth. The ways that we work, travel, create and live on a daily basis will need new direction. Though there may have been a flicker of regret in the man's mind for the past and present, there was also a strength of character that said I can adapt. I can overcome. I can face these changes head on and ultimately make a better life for myself and for those that come after me.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Late Start

Hello and welcome.

If you're reading this then you have most probably taken the time to read the "about me" thing and have gotten a small peek at where I'm at in heart and mind. I titled this post Late Start because that's just what it is. I've tried blogging before and didn't get very far. After the first 5 or 6 posts I just dwindled off to nothing. I think there is some good stuff over there but maybe I need to do something else with it. Something about taking the time to sit down and collect my thoughts on paper (electronic or otherwise) that I just haven't been able to bring myself to on a regular basis. This particular blog was created a month or so ago and this is the first post to it. So.....Late Start.

I've had friends tell me that I write well and that I should at least journal. I guess that's what this is in a way. Whether my friends are being honest or just kind is something that you can decide for yourself. I like to write but honestly, I've never written anything that really meant anything to anyone. Personal letters perhaps. Recently, I met a woman that is a writer. She does this part time while maintaining the complex management of her household. Her advice to me? Write everyday and don't give up your day job. Sounds familiar doesn't it? Sage advice to people that write, passed down through the ages.

In my daily life, I commute one hour each way to and from work. When I was younger, the time was spent mostly listening to the radio. Now-a-days, I spend that time just thinking about things. My life. Things I see on the interstate. Ideas, notions, perceptions, musings. Many times I've had, what I consider, profound epiphanies about life in general but they slipped away as I maneuvered through traffic or was distracted by the beauty of tree lined asphalt and well manicured medians. Someone suggested to me that I should keep a recorder with me as I drive and jot my thoughts down there for later recollection. I may try that. I guess it would be better than trying to write on paper and drive at the same time.

Anyway.

I suppose that's what this blog will be about as time progresses. Thoughts and musings while driving. I'm sure other areas of my life will find their way in here as well. That is if I can be faithful and consistent enough to write every day or so. I hope you'll come back from time to time and tell me what you think.