Skin Deep in November

It's been some years now since I have not been able to discuss politics with anyone except my husband and children. It seems everyone else is so convinced that their candidate is the next Abraham Lincoln that we cannot discuss political or economic principles without bloodshed, so I just keep my mouth shut. But, since I have no one here to tell me I cannot, I thought I would just test the water a little and see if I can avoid a fight.

This may sound strange, but any time people discuss politics or economics, I think it is imperative that the discussion focus around principles, not people. I know that some would disagree with this approach because it's so easy to like or dislike someone and accept or reject their politics out of hand. I learned a lesson about this that I will never forget.

I used to live in a place where there was a certain political candidate who was as popular as the day is long. He had all the votes he needed to keep him in his political position for the rest of his life. I had no reason to dislike him, but I admit that my gut feeling was one of skepticism. I withheld my comments because I believed that it wasn't the man but the philosophy of the man I should be looking at. On the surface, his philosophy sounded OK. Then I went to a political rally where this man was speaking. The organizers had a informal breakfast and chat session with the candidate so that people could 'get to know' him better. I had wished for just such an opportunity to satisfy my curiosity about this candidate so I went and put myself in a position to ask some questions. During the course of the breakfast, my questions were answered. I had heard about several pieces of legislation for which this candidate had voted. This legislation was clearly against the Party Platform, (the principles upon which the political party is supposedly founded and governed) I questioned his motives for such a course and suggested that if he consistently voted against the party's platform that perhaps he should switch parties.

The response I received from this candidate both surprised and puzzled me. He said with a sort of knowing smile that I just did not understand how things are done in Washington; that the way things are right now made it necessary for him to compromise certain principles. He said, if you want to get something good accomplished, you have to vote for something you don't want or even something bad in order to get it. Then he proceeded to tell us all the good he had accomplished with this technique.

This candidate is entitled to his opinion about how to perform his office. However, I realized at that moment, that I could not vote for him. His political philosophy was diametrically opposed to that of myself. I was glad that I was able to discover this about him and to confidently seek out someone who believed as I did.

Some people have made jokes about how political campaigns are either beauty contests or contests to determine who can lie the smoothest. If this is true then I guess we deserve what we get. I admit that it takes some effort to get to someone's philosophy. Sometimes it is carefully hidden behind a mountain of rhetoric. I personally do not want to be taken in by someone who has kept his real philosophy secret. I want to talk about and vote for someone who holds to principles to which I agree and who votes and lives accordingly. Anything else is foolishness in my opinion.

Sometimes the trouble arises from the fact that many people do not know WHAT they believe. In other words, they have no political or economic philosophy. This is a very dangerous position. People with no philosophy, or one that is unclear or shallow, can be easily taken in by fair promises. I believe that the time has come for people to educate themselves in these matters so that they cannot be deceived by smooth talking fakers. It is time that people dug deeper than the surface rhetoric to find the philosophy behind the man, because, I assure you, they have one. The question is, do you KNOW what it is, and do you agree. It really is not about the candidate, but about his philosophy and the principles for which he stands. Anything else is still a beauty contest.

What I Love

I love to sit and watch a beautiful sunset or to walk around on a morning when there is freshly cut hay and just smell the air.

I love to listen to a beautiful piece of music that makes me cry or to paint something colorful and watch the colors blend and run together.

I love to watch people dancing or to ride a horse through a field.

I love to be in the mountains in the summer when the pine needles are so strong-smelling it is almost intoxicating.

I love to feel the vibration of thunder when the lightening is so close you could almost touch it. I love to hold a baby when they have just been fed and they fall asleep with a tiny drop of milk on their cheek.

I love to look out over a green field on a late summer evening when the sun is sinking low, the grass turns a dark green, the shadows are a mile long and the air is an amber haze.

I love being on an ocean beach, feeling the power of all that water around me, hearing the constant rush of wave after wave washing away all the things that do not matter.

I love watching happy children play.

I love really good books that give you something to think about and inspire you to be a better person.

I love people who smile when they walk into a room and it feels as if they have just turned the lights on.

I love thinking about my Grandfather on his farm, puttering with his tractor, talking to me about make-up and boys, dating and love.

I love summer days going bare-footed.

I love fresh fruit, stolen from the box before canning and preserving.

I love trees of every kind; Tall trees that make you lean way back to see the tops, great trees whose branches reach in a circle and provide a wonderful habitat for humans who need shade, tiny saplings whose tender limbs wave happily in even the slightest breeze, stiff pine trees whose stalwart character remains calm even in the dead of winter and whose fragrance says “Christmas” like nothing else and the lovely shimmering Aspens whose leaves seem to come alive with movement and fluidity almost like water.

I love great tall buildings whose architecture is full of symmetry and mystery.

I love Mozart for the music he created because no one could have created that music out of a barren heart.

I love flying, although I thought I would not because I was always afraid of heights. But I love the feeling of being thousands of feet in the air... flying. There is just nothing in the world like it.

I love to be alone, in a tree, thinking.

I love when the weather is cold and the food is hot, the kitchen is clean and the fireplace is toasty.

I love being alive. And from what I hear, death isn't that bad either.

The Worst Show on Earth

I have to laugh when I think of the theatrical attempts to “balance the Federal budget”. I say theatrical because I believe that for the most part their public attempts at budgeting are largely for our benefit. In other words, I don't think they are really trying to balance anything except public opinion. This makes me think of another facet of life, and that is: pain.

No one likes pain. It hurts, right? Get rid of it, right? As a mother of twelve, I have experienced first-hand what I would call excruciating pain on many levels. Every part of my body (I think) in varying degrees and for varying amounts of time has been subject to pain which at times has seemed impossible to bear. At first, when I was younger, the answer for pain was a pain-killer. Your head hurts: take an aspirin. As I grew older and the pain became more complex, there were also more complex solutions. For instance, for a sore throat, the doctor would prescribe an antibiotic with the pain-killer. These simple solutions to pain were mostly acceptable until I had my first child. As I lay on the table being torn apart by the pain inside me, there was no amount of medication, short of complete anesthesia, that would stop the pain. I simply had to bear it. That episode of pain caused me to re-think my philosophy of pain.

I had been thinking that the solution for pain was to eliminate it through medication. As I began to experience many different kinds of pain, I realized that this solution was too simple and too often inadequate. So, I started looking for other ways to eliminate pain. First of all, I asked myself what was causing the pain. During my pregnancies, I often endured terrible back and leg pain which made it impossible to sleep or to walk. Pain medication during pregnancy can be dangerous for the baby, so I chose to simply endure the pain. That was easier said than done! Then I began looking for ways to eliminate the pain without killing it. I knew that pain killers, like their name, did a certain amount of killing; mostly of brain cells whose job it is to send pain messages to you. It would be like hiring a budget manager for your business who simply threw out all the bills you received in order to show on the books that you had plenty of money. I suppose it would work for a while, but when you found out what he was doing, you would probably have him arrested for fraud. Just so with the pain-killer. It doesn't really do anything to help the situation except to make you think that everything is OK, when in actuality, it isn't.

So, I took it upon myself to discover the source of my pain, which in the case I have been describing was a muscle in my back. I began reading about those areas of the body and was led from one piece of knowledge to another until I finally found a simple little exercise I could do every day for about fifteen seconds which would stretch the muscle in question and relieve all of the pain in both my back and legs. I laughed at myself for not finding it sooner and was able to complete all of my succeeding pregnancies with little or no back and leg pain.

Now a budget whose debt ceiling is constantly going higher is not a budget at all but a fiasco. No one is actually trying to 'balance' anything except their own position. The only way to balance a budget is to PAY the debt. Their answer is to PRINT more money in order to borrow more money in order to spend more money in order to pretend that we don't owe any money. It's like having a broken leg and instead of stopping to heal, you take pain pills and keep running. Eventually you will run out of brain cells to kill and you will collapse. At that point, you will be in much worse shape than if you just let the leg heal in the first place.

The “Balance the Budget” show is just that: a show. No one wants to stop, heal and pay debts. That takes time and sacrifice, patience and forbearance, knowledge and skill. Instead we will be treated to a carnival of “Kill the Messenger Who Dares to Speak of Budget Cuts.”, “A Fairy Tale Theater Where No One Ever Has To Pay Back Anything!” and the dizzying: “Look at the Amazing Men Who Can Avert Financial Disasters By Printing More Money!” Personally, I think I'll just stay home and balance my budget.

Some Advice For My Children

And anyone else who happens to be reading

Always be polite, even when you are angry enough to tell the policeman where he can put his ticket.

Never eat something whose name sounds more like a toy than food, ie. Twinkies, Ding-Dongs

Always say 'thank you' and clear your plate whenever someone feeds you. No one likes to feed the ungrateful.

Always sleep when you are tired, lest you drive sleepy and never wake up again

Never take your good health for granted, it might be your only friend left when you are ninety.

Always call home or call heaven when you are in trouble. We both care.

Never expect other people to drive safely or do smart things. They often don't.

Never trust someone who says: “Just this once won't matter.” It does.

Always believe your parents when they tell you to stay away from something they believe to be dangerous. They may actually be telling the truth!

Never go to a place where children are not allowed or are not welcome. It's a bad omen.

Always do your personal best, even when people expect far less of you.

Never hurt, yell at or belittle a child. Their feelings are just as big as yours.

Always trust your conscience; It knows more than you do.

Never let yourself get away with anything. Especially if no one is looking.

Always hope for a better world. It just might happen.

Never stop trying to build a better world. You just might be the one to help make it happen.

Always take time to do the right thing, even if no one seems to notice. Someone is ALWAYS watching.

Never let a day go by without saying to yourself: “I can succeed!” This replaces most self-help books.

Always use your words to build. Relationships are always built and never just happen..

Never use your words to tear down. A tiny bit of criticism goes a long, long way toward unhappiness.

Always learn. It's one thing in this wide world that you CAN control.

Never give up. This is the formula for success.

Not Holding My Breath

The other day I picked up a pencil and saw that it needed sharpening. So, I went to my sharpener, pushed the pencil in and began cranking the handle. Grind, grind, grind. I sharpened my pencil, or at least I thought I did. I looked at the tip, expecting to see the pointed lead peeking out of the freshly scraped wood, but what I saw instead made me want to throw the pencil in an incinerator and slam the door. The lead was not sharp, but dull and sagging listlessly to one side. Another dud, I thought. The way some companies make pencils causes them to fail all too easily. I knew then, as I have realized for some time now, that the 'good old days' are over.

Even in my limited experience, I can remember a time when people would look at you over the counter with a mixture of unbelief and wonder, as you returned an item which you had purchased at their store. They hardly knew what to do with it because it happened so seldom. You would have to go through several people, forms and procedures before you were able to take care of the problem, but were almost always given a strong apology and a surprised shake of the head over what had happened. Few and far between were the incidents of return with surprise being the most prevalent emotion.

In my house I have a central vacuum. When the house was built, there was a large vacuum installed in the garage to provide the suction. That vacuum lasted about 35 years. When it was replaced, they put in a heavy duty shop vacuum that looked like it could pull a truck. That vacuum lasted about five years. When we moved into this house it had just been given another new shop vacuum, replacing the one that had lasted five years. Two years later, we replaced the new vacuum. Six months later that new vacuum died and they gave me a new one because it was still under warranty.

To me, this represents a pattern. It wasn't so very long ago when if you bought something, you expected it to last your entire lifetime. Whether it was a car, a refrigerator or a bicycle, or even a pencil, it was gratifying to know that you had purchased something that would serve you for a long time to come. I know someone who just recently replaced her refrigerator after owning and using it for sixty years or so. She took care of it, and it took care of her. I don't envy her though, because now she has a new refrigerator. In fact. I pity her. What she has to look forward to is a long series of small failures: Tiny plastic parts that look fine when you purchase the refrigerator, but when put to the test will fail every time. Big plastic shelves, supposedly designed to hold milk, eventually break under the strain of continuous use. Shoddy workmanship, poor design and planned obsolescence are the norm today and I have the skeletons and the receipts to prove it!

In the last year I have returned, or needed to return at least ten new items I have purchased. This, in my opinion, is astronomical! Why is it that I have to keep every receipt, make note of the date of every purchase and remember exactly where I purchased something in order to protect myself from the faulty manufacturing and products being sold to me? It isn't that I purchase cheap things. The glass-topped stove I purchased at a well-known and reputable business that failed after a year and a half was not cheap. The three vacuums I have acquired in the last five years were not cheap. The faucets for my kitchen sink were not cheap. My new dishwasher that died just after the warranty expired was not cheap. Now I need a new refrigerator, but I'm afraid to buy one because I have fought with the one I have for so long over the cheap way they build the shelves that I keep wondering if it wouldn't be better to find a sixty-year old fridge at a junk yard and refurbish it, rather than go through the hassle of a new one that will probably fail in the next six months or a year.

I don't think I'm just being cynical when I say that things 'just ain't what they used to be'. I have come to expect that anything I buy will fail in a matter of hours. I refuse to buy toys because they have long been on the 'they-break-before-you-get-them-home' list. But what really made me suspicious that this is more than my imagination was when I went to return my vacuum after just six months of use. There at the store, like another check-out line, was the return line. The line was full. It was as though in one line they check you out and take your money, and in another, you come to get your money back, or maybe another product that actually works. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The sad part is, that we still think we might get something that works. But me? Well, I'm not holding my breath.

Can You Read? (The Writing On the Wall)

Yesterday, I heard again the story of what happened in a small village just prior to the tsunami that literally swallowed everything. The story goes that this was a fishing village, and had been for many generations. Their wisdom, folklore and knowledge had been handed down from father to son for hundreds of years. One day, an old fisherman went out to his boat and saw that the ocean had receded a great deal. Immediately he raised a cry in the village that everyone must go directly to higher ground.

The man's own grandchildren mocked him and did not believe him. Some thought he was just an old fool. Still, with much persuasion in the little time they had, they were able to get everyone off the shore and out of the village before the “wave that eats people” came and swept everything away. Of all the islands and peoples who witnessed that tsunami, only that one little village was able to save all of it's people.

A few months ago, I was reading a history book. This book was describing political, social, economic and religious conditions just prior to a major event. The description caught my attention for several reasons. First, it was almost as though I were reading today's newspaper; the events so closely resembled today's. Second, there were many key elements that seemed to be taken word for word out of today's vocabulary of major events. Third, I seemed to see the writing on the wall when I compared those events to those I see today and took them to their natural conclusions.

Shortly after reading that history book and being a little shaken by the possible conclusions, I was surprised to come across someone who had done something similar to what I had just done. She had not only analyzed the history of that one event, but had taken many such events and had done extensive research on each one and made direct comparisons across the board. Her conclusions were exactly the ones that I had come to, only she had gathered more facts to back them up.

If I had lived in a tiny fishing village just prior to the tsunami, I would like to think that it wouldn't take a baseball bat over the head to persuade me that the old man was telling the truth, or at least I hope I would have the good sense to see that I had nothing to lose by believing him and it might end up saving my life. Before the tsunami hit, the villagers had only a few minutes to bring everyone to safety. In the history book I was reading, the people had a few years of warnings. If they had been reading their own history, they too might have seen some of the parallels and perhaps could have prevented, or at least prepared for such an eventuality. I have read many accounts of people during that time who, though warned many times, and in different ways, were more inclined not to believe the warnings, but would rather believe the propaganda, and were thus caught unawares and unprepared, costing some of them their lives. It pays to know the difference.

I am not an old fisherman and I do not have a PHD in history, but what I have read and seen in my life has taught me that when an old man says to DO something NOW, you'd better do it, and when a historian says we are going to repeat history, you'd better plan on it.

No one had to tell me today that the 'water' is receding so to speak. No one had to tell me that there are a lot of things 'fishy' right now in my world. I have never SEEN this happen before in my life, but I know people who have, and they all say the same thing: This has happened before, only on a smaller scale and history is repeating itself.

The trouble is, no one wants to 'get to higher ground' while the sun is still shining and there's money to be made. Nope, even if they were sure it was coming, there are those who will wait until the water is splashing down on top of them from a 40 ft. wave before they will try to do something, and then wonder why someone didn't do it FOR them.

Mightier Than the Sword

There have been times when a few words have had a great impact in this world. One or two instances come to mind such as, the Declaration of Independence, Martin Luther King Jr.'s “I Have a Dream” speech and the supreme court ruling of Roe vs. Wade. These and other bits of words have shaped the way we live and who we are. They represent a power greater than weapons; a power that deserves our respect.

History is replete with instances of attempts to silence words in order to gain or maintain control. A few words from a little french girl turned away the most powerful army in the known world and caused an entire country to seek her destruction. She never lifted her sword against her enemy, but only raised her voice to her people and her king and yet she was victorious, though she was burned to death for her words. The amazing Martin Luther wrote a few words on the door of a church, marking the beginning of a revolution which has rocked the world for centuries. Many in power at the time attempted in vain to erase the effect of those words upon the minds of the people. William Tindale translated some words and set in motion an irreversible chain of events that changed the course of human history forever. He too was killed for his words. John F. Kennedy was also killed... for his words.

We are the recipients of many of the words of these great men and women who have lived and died for those words. What does this mean to those of us who are still here? Do we have any kind of responsibility to them and their words? Shouldn't this be part of the legacy we leave to our children?Can we afford to lose those and other words from our collective memory?

This makes me think of a modern example. There is a man who has been actively seeking and sharing powerful words through the medium of the internet. Because of his work and the impact it was having, some people in power have sought ways to stop this flow of words. This man happened to be seeking to expose corruption. The corrupt, of course, do not want to be exposed. People in power eventually trapped and imprisoned this man. I doubt if we will ever see or hear of him again, until he is dead.

Now here I am writing words! Each week that I write, I ask myself: what impact, if any, will this have? Will anyone read it? Is there anything here that could be construed as dangerous? Am I putting myself at risk? These and other questions come to my mind as I struggle with the words I should say. I realize the potential for good as well as the potential for damage. I see that what I say could put me at risk and might make me an outcast. I wonder if there is anything worth saying that can be said without getting me into trouble. Is it any wonder that the founders of this country worked so hard and sacrificed so much in order to secure freedom of speech? That freedom is probably the best and most powerful tool which can be given to anyone. Without it, we are fugitives no matter where we live.

Hard (Opportunity) Knocks

Everyone has bad luck. Basically, if you are still alive, you are having bad luck. But is it luck? In other words, is it merely the workings of the accidental happenings of this thing and that thing bouncing randomly off of one another, or is it something else?

Who among us does not have trouble in their lives at one time or another? If you have ever had a hope or an aspiration you know that they do not come without difficulty. There seems to be a force, or a 'dark side' if you will, that goes around getting in people's way whenever they try to accomplish something. Some people call it luck, some call it fate, some call it opposition and some call it a pain in the...neck. Whatever you call it, it seems no one can escape it. Trouble comes into the life of every being. The question is, what is there to do about it?

I have known people who are convinced that life is against them, personally. In the words of the old “Hee Haw” song: “If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all.” I have to admit that some of the days of my life have felt like that. There were days a few years back when I was morning sick until I wanted to die, had a two year old that would wander down the street when I wasn't looking, a four year old that was having trouble making it all the way to the bathroom, a husband who was out of town on a business trip, a laundry room that seemed a million miles away because I was too big and uncomfortable to tackle the stairs and a sister living with me who needed 24 hour care. Then, there were the days when my husband was out of work, the cow died, the neighbors were threatening to do bodily harm if we came near them, the IRS was threatening to put us in jail and the mortgage company was threatening to foreclose.

In the movie, “The Lord of the Rings”, based on the book by J.R.R. Tolkien, the wizard, Gandalf is talking to Frodo, the Hobbit. Frodo is lamenting all the 'bad luck' he'd been having, all the trouble that he seemed to be attracting and all the suffering, the difficulty and needless heartache he seemed to be bringing upon his friends. Frodo, in despair, says to Gandalf, "I wish none of this had happened." Gandalf wisely replies, "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you were also meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought.”

When I heard those words, “There are other forces at work...” I realized that he was talking about the constant battle between the two opposing forces that seem to be at work in this world. Most people call it luck if they are on the receiving end of one or the other of these forces. Good luck meaning, I have what I need and want most of the time, bad luck meaning I am getting thwarted at every turn.

Thomas Edison had a dream; a goal. He wanted to make lighting easier and cheaper for the average family. Tirelessly, day after day, he failed to create the thing he was after. Each attempt was met with new opposition. Hundreds of times he failed in his endeavor. Fate seemed against him. Finally, his lab even burned to the ground. For most people, that would have spelled the end of the dream. But Thomas Edison knew something that most of us never even imagine. He knew what Gandalf knew and what everyone knows who has ever fought a losing battle and won. He knew that failure is the prerequisite to success, that opposition is merely an opportunity for a miracle, that 'there are more forces at work than the will if evil' and that when you set out to accomplish anything, or even just to live in this world, you set in motion BOTH of those forces.

Frodo, eventually succeeds in his task, but not without the help of the evil Gollum, who is constantly trying to kill him. Without Gollum, Frodo would have failed. It was Gollum who finally forced Frodo to defeat the opposition. It's like I tell my children: “You can't get strong by lifting nothing.” “Failure is the best teacher.” and “Opposition is really an opportunity.” So, when opportunity knocks, pick up your dream (and your weapon) and open the door

What About Trees

Yesterday as I looked out upon the vast and beautiful landscape that surrounds me, I was struck by the sheer beauty of it all. Symmetrical, colorful, satisfying beauty is everywhere to be found in the natural world, both on the planet and above it. There is nowhere you can look without seeing something of perfect beauty staring you in the face. Whether in a microscope or telescope, a landscape or seascape, mountains or plains, massive rivers or tiny streams; this place is packed full of beauty.

Then, as I was drinking in some of that vast loveliness, I thought of the interesting comparison between natural and man-made things. I noticed that some of those man-made things are indeed very beautiful as well. There is artwork of all kinds rivaling the beauty found in nature and testifying to a greatness in humanity that could only be described as divine. Who has not been amazed at the sculptures of Michaelangelo or his paintings in the Sistine Chapel?

When I see hear or experience something man-made which I find edifying, beautiful, helpful, useful or interesting, I often am curious about it's author. I want to know more about the person who fashioned whatever it was. I have recently asked myself why I would want to know about a person who had made something. Shouldn't it be enough to simply enjoy the work, without getting more involved than that? Apparently, for me at least, it is not. For some reason, I feel compelled to learn more about a person when they have made something that has affected me.

As a matter of course, I am constantly on the lookout for things that people have made, whether it is written, composed, sculpted, drawn, painted, played, sung, built, designed or thought, which might add color, variety, enjoyment, hope, inspiration, edification, interest, humor or knowledge to my life. This quest has been rewarded many times with unforgettable experiences and connections. And, as often as I can, I will attempt to learn more about the person who was responsible for bringing something into existence which was a benefit to me. I suppose the desire to connect with the author stems from the gratitude I feel for the service rendered to me through their work. I cannot separate the work from the author.

Again, as I was thinking of all the man-made wonders in this world, some gloriously beautiful and others not so much so, I was wondering what would happen if I went around telling people that those amazing cars that we see driving around, those skyscrapers, that artwork, that music, those bridges, those books, those computers, those airplanes had no author, no builder, no engineer and no designer; that they came about accidentally for our benefit, because we needed them and wanted them. If I took a book in my hand and tried to tell you that no one wrote it, you would say I was crazy. Of course someone wrote it. Books don't write themselves!

And trees do?

What's in a Name

When I was growing up I spent a good deal of time finding names I liked. I always named my animals and knew I would someday have children to name, so I considered it a wise investment to select good names for future use. I enjoyed many hours collecting both first and last names and sharing them with friends and relatives. Little did I know how useless that collection would be.

When my husband and I began our family and were sitting in the hospital discussing the name of our first child we were literally at our wits end. After nine months and two days, we had each exhausted our supply of names and could not agree on any of them. Over and over we went through the possibilities and each time we came up with a definite, “No way!” It seemed that all of my favorite names were all of his least favorite and vise versa. I thought we would never be able to name our child when, out of sheer desperation I began thinking of the book I had just been reading. It was the classic novel, “Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austin. The main character in that book is Elizabeth. As soon as I said the name we both looked at each other to gauge the level of acceptance for the name. As we looked, hesitatingly, almost shyly, there didn't seem to be any feelings toward the name that would suggest rejection, so we pursued the name further, trying it on our last name and finding a middle name that fit. It was such a relief to find a name that we seemed to agree on that after just a couple of minutes of discussion, we agreed that this would be her name.

That said, you would think that the rest of our children were similarly difficult to name. However, what we learned that day about naming our children was not that we couldn't agree on names, but that each child had a name already and we just had to find it. I realize this may sound odd but the truth of the matter was brought home to us time and again.

Each of our children's names came in a different way and each time we came to the name, it was the only name we could agree upon. However, the most dramatic of all the naming came with our last child. I knew by then to wait for the name so I hadn't worried about it much. Then, during my pregnancy I had a dream in which my husband spoke just four words. He said, “His name is John.” I awoke feeling startled and surprised but I wasn't about to just tell him that I'd had a dream and I knew what the baby's name would be. And truthfully, I wasn't all that excited about naming my child John Smith. The only thing that would have been worse is if our last name had been Doe. So I told my husband that I'd had a dream in which he had told me the baby's name, but that he would have to find it out for himself and tell me while I was awake. He shrugged and there was no more discussion about it.

A month or two later, while spending an evening at home with our family, two of our children came into the room where the rest of us were sitting and announced that they had 'figured out' what the new baby's name was going to be. I was more than a little surprised by this declaration, but told them I was willing to hear them out. They then told how they had painstakingly read through the baby name book saying every name at the end of all of the family's names. Finally, after hours of work, they said, they had arrived at the 'only' name that would fit at the end of our family's names (more surprise on my part). Then, to my utter astonishment, the two children declared that the baby's name was none other than John.

Only a minute before this, out of curiosity, I had been looking up the meaning of the name John in another baby name book. In my astonishment upon their declaration I arose, and without answering the children, went to the kitchen. There on the window sill in big bold letters on my “Thought for the Day” calendar was the exact meaning for the name John that I had just read in my baby book. Finally I turned, acknowledged the children's discovery, told them of my dream and of the baby book meaning and threw my hands in the air and said, “His name is John”. And it is.

Lucky Me

Having grown up on and around farms, I feel most at home when I have animals around. I enjoy taking care of animals and find great pleasure in seeing my children interact with and help care for the animals as well. I always hoped that I would be able to live on a farm when I grew up because life on the farm seemed like the best kind of life. I always dreamed of having horses and cows, dogs and cats, room to roam and plenty of trees to climb. HAVING animals was my childhood dream. BEING a caged animal myself never once occurred to me, until now.

From the time we are able to understand words, we are taught about the world around us. What it is and why it is, are topics of daily conversation as well as subjects in school, at church and in the workplace. I saw an example of what I am talking about just the other day as I was driving across the country. A sign on a road construction project informed me that the new road was being built by “Your tax dollars” in the form of Federal, State and Local taxes. Each one had a number beside it to indicate exactly how much each group was contributing to the project. I wondered how much we had personally contributed to that project. I also wondered why no one asked me whether or not I thought it was a good idea. Then I had to laugh at myself. Imagine someone on the street holding you up for your money. You give it to him and he asks you if it's OK if he uses it to pay his children's college tuition. No, I can't imagine it either.

The other day, I was listening to a lecture by a Naturalist. She was teaching boy scouts about the world around them. Plants, animals, rivers and ecosystems were some of the topics of discussion. In the process of the lecture she brought out a map of our beautiful state. It had two colors on it. She asked the children if they knew what the different colors represented. One smart boy raised his hand and gave the answer: “That's where people live.” He was right. The map showed inhabited and uninhabited land in Idaho. She then informed them of how fortunate they were to live in a state where there were so many National Parks. She said they were lucky to be able to see these natural wonders right in their own 'back yard' so-to-speak. She then proudly announced to the class that more than seventy-five percent of our state is Federally owned and run. She taught them how lucky we are to have so many natural resources which we are lucky enough to have managed for us by our benevolent leaders.

On a recent trip to a Federally-owned National tourist site I was amazed at how much money had been spent to make it 'tourist-friendly'. Movies, pictures, artifacts, souvenirs and guides combined with the finest buildings money could buy, making a truly stunning experience at a place that would otherwise have been merely a big rock with someone's name carved on it. When I was a child, that is how it was. You went there, you saw the rock, you read the historical marker and you got in your car and drove away. Now, you have to park almost half a mile from the actual site, are corralled into the Edifice by guides that feel like guards, told exactly what to think about the events and people surrounding the big rock, given a head full of stuff about how lucky you are to have people doing all of this for you, asked to donate money, led by the hand to the actual site, guarded by the guards and surveyed constantly by security cameras, and if your toe goes out of bounds an alarm sounds to alert the guards to your behavior. Finally, you are guided off the premises by way of the gift shop where you can find more literature about how lucky you are and more pictures of things you will never see but are so lucky to have.

Where's my feed. I'm going back to my cage to ponder on how lucky I am.

Life

Life is:

A good stretch in the morning after a long sleep.

The soft dripping creaminess of an ice cream cone being eaten by a child.

The tingling goodness of cold water on a hot day.

The smell of freshly baked bread at your grandmother's home.

A hot shower on a cold morning.

Sleeping on sheets fresh from the clothes line.

Riding a fast horse.

A snowball fight with children.

Freshly mowed hay.

The long, slow, purple, pink and gold of a summer sunset.

Morning.

Dew on your bare feet.

Contented smiles after a satisfying, well-prepared meal.

A friend who knows the truth when you say you are 'fine'.

Beauty in all it's forms.

The music of a loving relationship.

The everyday miracles of breathing, seeing, hearing and laughing.

The inner man who knows instinctively that none of this happened by chance and millions of years of primordial soup.

The everything that surrounds us, binds us, unites us.

Life is.

A Better World

Since I learned to read, I have noticed that there is an abundance of knowledge in this world whose depths I have hardly even begun to fathom. When I go to the library, I find myself feeling like a child in a toy store with a blank check. I just want to get everything and read it right now. I usually spend an hour at one shelf, picking out a few books to read during the week. I have only scratched the surface of the vast storehouse of the library which is available to me. In my search for good books and knowledge, I often come across things that do not come from my own country, culture or religious background. When that happens, I never say to myself, “Oh dear, I can't read that! It was written by someone who is different from me!” In fact, most of the time, the opposite is true and I find myself wanting to read only those things that come from people who are vastly different from myself.

I grew up in a little town in the mid-western United States. My people were white protestants for at least ten generations back. I ate meat and potatoes, raw milk and homemade bread. I learned to say the Pledge of Allegiance when I was six and I can sing all the words to the Star Spangled Banner. When I was small, my mother joined another church and became an outcast in her own family. We never talked about our religion because no one ever asked us about it. Once when I was tending children for a family, they tactfully put some literature on the table which described in detail all of the supposed evils of my family's faith. Not a word was said, but much was implied.

Prejudice usually comes in two forms. Sometimes it has to do with people. We might find ourselves feeling afraid or anxious around someone who looks different from the people we are used to. Other times it concerns people's ideas. I overheard someone say once, that they would never adopt a certain exercise because it originated from a 'different' culture from her own, and she was afraid it might somehow taint her. Now, certainly people are entitled to feel and act as they choose concerning anyone or any idea. We each have our lives to live and I would not have it any other way. But the reason I brought this whole thing up is that if I were to eliminate from my life all the things I have learned and gained from people and ideas that are different from my own, things I could easily have been prejudiced against, I would have missed the best part of my life!

In fact, I would go so far as to say that I believe that my life is worth living today because of what I have learned from 'other' people and 'other' ideas. Wisdom knows no cultural boundaries. There are many wise people who live in the strangest places and have the strangest looks. But, perhaps it's justice at work after all. Those who are foolish enough to reject a man because of where he was raised, what he looks like or who is folks are, just might deserve the results of their ignorance because of their prejudice. Those who overcome prejudice enough to learn from whatever knowledge or people come their way, no matter their appearance or background, certainly deserve the better life they will gain by doing so.

Knowledge IS power; the power to be happy. And I believe that the knowledge we need in order to be completely happy has been planted in the most obscure places, on purpose, to test whether or not we merit receiving it. There are certain bits of knowledge so precious that though it came to me by means of a filthy, inebriated vagrant I would still embrace it. Whether it comes in that or in some other way should not matter in the least. We should never allow prejudice to blind us to the truth, wherever it may be found, however strange it may seem to us coming by the mouth of someone different from ourselves. And who knows but what we might be able to teach someone else a truth that we have discovered and through this sharing, build a better world. Anyway, it's worth a try.

Holding On

I am a fairly cheerful person, as a rule. I like to look on the bright side of things and have been blessed with the ability to look beyond the mundane to see the wonder of life all around me. This has brought me a good deal of happiness today as well as a constant hope for the future. This does not, however, cause me to ignore those things that are difficult or dangerous in life. I simply do not allow them to overwhelm me or become the driving force behind my personality.

The other day when the sun was shining so beautifully and the breeze was cool and refreshing, I spent a peaceful hour enjoying the light, warmth and beauty of it all. It refreshed me and lifted me into a state of contentment and well-being that has stayed with me until now. I thought how lucky we are to have such things as the earth, sunlight, air and water to bless our lives in countless ways. I was filled with gratitude for those excellent gifts and hoped that everyone living might enjoy them as I did.

However, just a few days before this I came across some information that showed the trails of toxic radiation from the damaged reactor in Japan. There were dozens of images, each showing a different toxic, radioactive chemical. These chemicals were being carried on the air, across the ocean and over this country and Canada, floating silently overhead, unseen and almost completely unheralded.

As I sat in the sun, gazing around me at the beauty and wonder of creation, I couldn't help but be appalled by the danger and destruction that threatens on every side. Then I thought of how silly it was to worry about one reactor in Japan and the fallout from that disaster when the past fifty years have seen the world literally riddled with nuclear fall-out from the over two thousand nuclear explosions done for testing purposes with little or no recognition of the possible damage it might cause.

Then, for a hundred and fifty years, our land has been free from war. We have lived for generations in a land of peace and prosperity and cannot even fathom being without electricity, much less having to fight for the very soil upon which we stand. Yet, across the world there are dozens of countries and millions of people who are right now in conditions of turmoil and war that we here can hardly comprehend. We enjoy relative security while many parts of the world suffer the ravages of modern warfare with it's highly advanced chemical, nuclear and biological weapons that hold the greatest potential for suffering and death this world has ever seen.

Manufacturers produce and sell these awesome weapons to both sides of every conflict and governments hire people to wield the weapons against someone they have called the enemy. The manufacturer is happy because he is making money. The armies are happy because they have the weapons they need to fight their 'enemy'. The people from both sides who support the governments with taxes are happy because they feel that their freedom is being protected. It sounds ideal! Everyone should be happy!

However, just as the thought of the nuclear fall-out cast a shadow of worry over my lovely day in the sun, so the thought of millions of innocent women and children suffering untold misery because of these 'happy' wars casts a nameless gloom over my relative safety and peace. When I look into the sky, I cannot see the dangerous chemicals floating there. Similarly, when I think about my own safety I cannot see the millions of other people in this world who have perhaps never had safety or peace or even enough food.

The word optimism comes from the Latin word optimus meaning "the best". Yes, I would say I am an optimist. I believe in the best even when the worst is in the air I breathe, the water I drink, the earth I walk on and the sunlight coming down from the heavens, and even when the world is coming apart at the seams. It occurs to me that there may come a time when all I have is my hope, my optimism, when all around me is chaos and trouble. If that day should come, I hope I will not be so foolish as to abandon my hope, simply because what I see does not match that vision of “the best” because that is the seed by which a new life might grow and that is definitely worth holding on to.

Kid Gloves

A few years ago, my husband and I purchased a horse for our family. Sophy was a beautiful quarter horse; not too large but well-built and fairly young. The man we bought her from rode her around a little before loading her into our trailer for us to take home. After a few minutes of leading her around the pasture to get her used to our place, we put children on and led them around for another hour or so. We put Sophy away and went to the house, content with our purchase.

The next time I went out, it was with the intention of riding Sophy myself. I got my gear ready and headed out to catch her and take a little ride. After I caught her I reached for the bridle to put it on her. I reached out my hand to touch her head and she backed up, jumped and shot her head up as though I had just beaten her with a stick. I worked for several minutes to try and calm her down, talking softly, rubbing her sides, easing her. She was breathing heavily, her eyes were showing white and she was in a state of complete panic. I finally got her settled and tried again to reach for her head, this time with much more care and caution, working up from her neck to her head to her face. It took a few more minutes to reach that far and at last I was able to take the bridle in hand and begin again to put it on her. It was a long process of slowly touching, reaching and gaining trust. But it was clearly a foreign experience for Sophy.

About this same time, my brother asked if we would be willing to let someone stay with us who needed a place to stay. He said that she had had a lot of trouble in her life and needed some special attention. Tami, (not her real name) had been abused terribly as a child and was in need of a great deal more than just a place to stay. Her health was poor but her spirits were even poorer. She felt unwanted and unloved. Her abuse had made her bitter and resentful. At first, when she came to stay, she would help around the house and try to do everything she could to keep herself healthy. After a while, she began to think that we were going to treat her the way she had been treated as a child and she began to lash out. She stopped taking care of her health, and eventually moved away.

As I watched these two, Sophy and Tami, I began to wonder about the fragile nature of life and how important are the precious first years of our lives. I read a book recently in which one of the characters is telling his son not to go near the young colts. He told him that it would only take one bad experience with people and those colts would be worthless for future training; that they must be protected, guided and gentled by a loving hand at all times while they are young in order for them to be capable of learning the skills of harness horses later in their lives. One false move in the colt's earliest months could mean the difference between success and failure in the horse's training later on.

As a mother, I have learned that children too are extremely fragile and susceptible to the treatment they receive when they are very small. One word, one unkind act, one traumatic experience can cause a child to be handicapped socially, mentally or spiritually for the rest of his life.

When I bought my horse, I expected a nice kid's horse that we could ride around the farm and have fun with. What a got was a horse that had obviously been mistreated and was never able to function on the level we had expected or hoped. The longer we had her, the more bitter and reactionary she became. At the sight of a man with gloves, she would become frantic with fear, rear and try to run. If anyone even lifted their hand in her presence, she would jump back, flinching and rearing. Like the girl who came to stay with us, she expected everyone to treat her the way she had been treated when she was young. The result was unhappiness and dysfunction in both cases.

What I learned is that both horses and kids should be treated with “kid gloves”. After all, can we really be too kind?

Not I, Said The Consumer

This is a strange age we live in, when scientists are capable of altering the human genome, engineering plants to increase size, production and immunity to disease and doing a host of other practices which only a few years ago would have been considered strictly science fiction. Still, with all these advances in science and technology, I wonder if our lives as a whole are better for it. Surely this depends on how we use this knowledge.

Take the computer. The information age, though in it's relative infancy, provides those with access to it, the capability of researching and studying any topic you could name in nearly any language you choose, at nearly the speed of light. Knowledge of the world as we know it, the world as it was a thousand years ago, the known universe, nearly all the books ever written on any subject as well as current and ongoing research are all available for the price of a few key-strokes. There is also a vast store of religious knowledge available to us through libraries, book stores, the internet and television. There is not a single perspective on religion that has not been written about and printed for the public use, and made readily available to anyone with the initiative to look for it. Scientific research is now more widely available than at any other time in history. All one has to do is to be curious, and the knowledge will be literally poured into your lap from a hundred different sources. On top of all the rest, I get frequent invitations to sign up for college classes, at reasonable prices, in my home town if I want to brush up on any particular subject.

The only thing I find odd about this whole situation is that with all this availability, people are not becoming more educated, and may even be less so than before this information explosion. The fact is, people are not taking advantage of the information age, they are being taken advantage of.

For instance, the information/computer age has made it possible for news from around the world to be disseminated following any event in a matter of minutes. But that news is highly controlled by a few powerful companies who decide what will be reported and how. This highly advanced and effective propaganda tool has been used for nearly a hundred years in this country without so much as a raised eyebrow by most of the people who are it's target. These companies not only control news, but television, movies and advertising to a great degree. The tremendous wealth these forms of media generate has created a powerful tool for thought control which has been placed in the hands of a few extremely wealthy groups of people. No one wants to believe that they are being controlled. It is much easier to simply deny it than to accept it and try to do something about it. However, even a rudimentary knowledge in the fields of propaganda, media, news or war would reveal the truth of this matter. It is not a secret; people simply do not care to know.

As another example, take manufacturing. A few giant companies decide how, what and when to manufacture the goods consumers use. Consumers feel like they exercise control by shopping for the best price. The manufacturer puts products in the price range of the consumer but with the added bonus of planned obsolescence. In other words, certain parts are designed to fail after a predetermined amount of time, based on the consumer's tolerance level. Then they play on the fear this creates, by selling you a repair contract or extended warrantee. To us this just seems like a lot of nonsense, but to them, it is a calculated, scientific endeavor. Companies spend huge amounts of time and money researching these kinds of things for the sole purpose of increasing their profits. Wouldn't you?

These are just two examples of how the information age has made our world a little bit more dangerous for everyone. Can we really trust people to use all the knowledge they have gained in a wise manner and solely for our benefit? Indeed, I think we can only trust that people, and certainly companies or those who stand to make money, will only do what benefits themselves or provides them with more money. And since that is the case, there is only one sensible thing for people to do and that is to get more knowledge ourselves and use it for our own benefit and the benefit of those around us. After all, who do we expect to do this for us?

My Freedom

What is freedom? I've been asking myself this question for a long time now. I really want to know what constitutes freedom so that I will know whether I have it or not. All the time, people are saying how lucky they are to have 'freedom'. People celebrate holidays, sing songs and support programs that remind us to be proud of our freedom. Other people are so proud of their freedom that they feel it their duty to 'share' that freedom with other nations by sending troops to help fight for freedom. But all this talk about freedom still doesn't answer my question: What IS freedom?

Some years ago, my husband and I were looking for a home to purchase. We came across places called “Gated Communities”. These special places had “covenants” for the home-owners whose purpose was to make the community a better place for everyone. These covenants might include a limit on the number and kind of pets one could own, a limit on the number of children, a curfew for noise or lights, certain requirements for lawn/yard upkeep, limits or requirements for fences, limits on the number and time that vehicles could be parked in the street, fees for extra snow removal services, fees for special street lighting and the list might go on and on. These types of communities were becoming very popular when we were first looking for a home. People thought of it as a type of insurance against certain 'problems' that arise in home-ownership. In their minds, the greater restrictions translated into better living.

It seems fairly obvious to me that this is a question of freedom. Certainly, we are free to join or not join the gated community. And just as certainly, those who join the community and sign the covenants must be willing to relinquish some of their freedom to do so. They also must, at least at the outset, feel that giving up their freedom in some measure is repaid with greater comfort, convenience and safety.

With the aforementioned in mind, what actually is freedom, why, were people willing to die for it and if freedom is so wonderful and worth having, why are we so quick to give it up?

Freedom, in my opinion (and I'm afraid we each have to define this for ourselves) is the inalienable right to live without the dominance or restriction of another, provided we do not dominate or restrict anyone else. To say that it is inalienable (to quote the Declaration of Independence) merely means that it is yours and cannot be severed, removed, given or sold from yourself.

By this broad definition we are free. The right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is inalienable and cannot be taken, given or sold by us or anyone else. America, at it's beginning, declared this truth to the world, but the truth was always there. The next question then comes to mind: Why were people willing to die for freedom, and we also might wonder why anyone had to die for it if freedom is inalienable? The answer, I suppose, is that there was someone who was forcibly attempting to alienate them from their freedom. If freedom and liberty are essential, then I can understand fighting to the death to maintain it. This too, seems obvious.

Now, in my generation, I have witnessed a new thing. I will call it “Freedom from my neighbor's freedom.” People, and the governments and programs they run, think themselves very generous to allow or forcibly disallow their fellow creatures their inalienable rights. Not only that, they consider it a wise investment to sell or sign away their own rights of privacy, ownership or movement to purchase some kind of feeling of safety, from their neighbor. Like the covenant communities who willingly relinquish a large portion of real freedom in order to maintain a certain “standard of living”.

Today, I feel like I'm living in a huge gated community. Although I personally did not sign the covenants but only inherited them, I am still bound by their restrictions. The restrictions are so vast, so all-encompassing, so encroaching, so dangerous and so oppressive that I am almost afraid to leave my home for fear that I might be in a state of non-compliance. I own nothing but what is taxed. If I cannot pay the tax I might be imprisoned. I can do nothing but what is licensed. I am the object of surveillance in nearly every private and public building I enter. Everything from what I eat to what I teach my children is the object of scrutiny and is subject to oversight and possible arrest. My freedom of speech is limited to “Free Speech Zones”. I am allowed to worship as I please, or at least I am allowed to attend the church of my choice, as long as I do not mention the name of my Deity at certain times and in certain places and for certain reasons and as long as my mention of him does not in any way offend someone, and as long as I do not mention any doctrine of his that might be construed as an insult to someone's way of life. And, my right to bear arms is limited and controlled with licensing, registration and regulation. It would take me several years (and literally thousands of pages) to track down all the laws, covenants, rules, regulations, restrictions and guidelines I am bound by in this (free?) gated community.

If freedom is inalienable, as Thomas Jefferson said, then no person can actually take it from me. I have it. If freedom is something you can give away, sell or have taken from you, then I do not have it and never did. If freedom is only an idea that exists in my mind, then I can have it with me, even when I am in bondage to someone or something else. If freedom is actually the ability to act for one's self without the restrictions of another then freedom has probably not been on this planet since the Garden of Eden.

So, what it freedom? Do we have it? Is it worth fighting for? Who do we fight? Who is really the enemy? What will fighting achieve? Where does the fighting end?

I have ended with more questions than I began with. I'm sure this means that I have much more to learn before coming to any definite conclusions. But I have learned one thing: Somewhere, someone lost something called freedom in this country, and the only thing left of it is a nice word to put in speeches and songs on holidays and all the fighting in the world hasn't succeeded in bringing it back or giving it to anyone else.

What A World

There is a bit of irony about life that we as human beings deal with every day. It is so much a part of our lives that we do not even notice it anymore, yet it affects us negatively every day and we complain a great deal about it with almost everyone we meet. Like the weather, every one experiences it but no one really expects to do anything about it. The damage done by this thing is incalculable, yet no one does anything to eliminate it because we think we cannot. That is, we think we cannot, until we have the power.

When children are small, they are subject entirely to their parents, guardians, babysitters, older siblings and nearly anyone who is bigger than they are. Theirs is a world of giants (and sometimes ogres) who dictate what their life will be like from the moment they awake into this world until they are big enough to fight back. As subjects in this little world, they are made to do whatever the bigger people decide they should do. The means by which they are 'made' to do those things is usually, first: asking, second: telling, third: forcing and finally: punishment if the child is not compliant. Thus defines the circle of many a child in the world today.

I will not argue that children can be difficult to raise, or that they do not need some form of discipline; no, in my opinion, raising children is far and away the most complex and difficult task anyone can undertake. But this is not about the children, it is about the adults. You see, each of us was once a child, subject to the discipline and sometimes unfair treatment of others who were older and bigger than us. Does it not seem surprising then that people often become the thing they despised when they were children?

Does it make sense that a person who was bullied all his life should become a bully? I think it makes more sense that if one was bullied, he would do all in his power to NOT be a bully. By the same token, those of us who are treated ill by some power larger than ourselves ought to be doing all in our power to eliminate such things in the future.

Here I would like to make a comparison to the Lord of the Rings. In that story, the ring is a tool of control. It is filled with all the malice and hatred of its master and seems to want only to serve his ends. When those with good intentions come along and take possession of the 'ring of power' they are sorely tempted to use the ring 'for good'. However, Gandalf, the wizard, informs them that the ring serves only one master and that if you try to use the ring you will not be able to do good with it. You would only do evil in the NAME of good, thus doing an even greater evil. That is the irony.

This kind of thinking is employed every day in our world. People raised in situations of control and coercion go on to control and coerce others. When this becomes the norm, then we consider it our duty to control and coerce other people and we see no other way to achieve the ends in mind. It makes me think of the saying, “Fighting for peace.” We haven't made the connection that fighting never achieved peace. The ring of power only has one master. But the power is so tantalizing that people are willing to forget all that they really know about life in order to wield the power, and power, unfortunately, is addictive. Once used it is almost impossible to resist.

It seems to me that it is a little bit like children on a playground who have discovered a powerful weapon and use it to force everyone on the playground to play correctly. You don't need to teach manners, politeness, kindness or consideration when force is present. You merely wave your magic weapon and everyone is at peace with everyone else. Sound effective? Sure. No one is fighting. But what kind of playground is it? Do you really want to play there, or would you do anything to get away from it? Or, on the other hand, would you do everything in your power to get the weapon away from the one in charge so that YOU could be in control. Sound familiar? It should. As the witch in the Wizard of Oz put it: “What a world, what a world.”

One Bite at a Time

I have often wondered about the life of animals as compared to people. What a strange world we live in, where animals, free of care, live and die without remorse while people watch them with curiosity and interest. People, on the other hand, take their lives very seriously, making calculated decisions, directing their lives, positioning, climbing, reaching. In the process, ironically, the people often take care of animals, who can actually take care of themselves. People live lives of worry, heartache, pain, trouble and self-destruction, while the animals live in utter oblivion of such things, living, for the most part, at peace with themselves and everything around them. All of this makes me wonder if, as humans, we haven't missed something.

It must be understood that there are vast differences of capability between humans and animals. These differences account for the larger part of the question. But the rest of the question still wants to be answered: What are we as humans missing about life that makes us live lives of self-destruction. By self-destruction I do not mean that people are necessarily trying to kill themselves, although some are; but I mean that people, unlike animals, will elicit behaviors that are minimally self-destructive over long periods of time, with the result that in the end, they destroy themselves.

Smoking is such a behavior. It is widely known that smoking will damage the lungs and eventually destroy the body. Nevertheless, a great many people do it. But suppose I were a big Pharma company and wanted to test a new drug, so I gave the drug to an animal to study it's effects on the animal. Some people would say it was cruel to give the animal a drug that might harm the animal, and I would agree. So, what about the cigarettes? Why do humans think it's fine to damage your own body a little at at time, when they wouldn't even dream of doing such a thing to their dog or cat?

I have known some mechanics in my life who treat their cars like members of the family. They park them in garages, wash them, baby them, and put only the best products into them so as to ensure the longest and best use of the vehicle. They know, most assuredly, that if they were to put inferior products into their vehicle, it would not run properly. They would not even dream of putting water in the gas tank or dish soap into the radiator. If they have a pet, especially a valued pet, they will feed him only the best pet food. They know that feeding inferior food will result in inferior performance, health and appearance of the animal.

All of this suggests that humans are capable of intelligent thought. So why does that intelligent thought simply fly out the window where our own lives are concerned? Why do people live as though it didn't matter what you put into your body, what you thought, or how you lived? If I were to put a bottle of apple juice into a man's carburetor he would be angry, at least. He would say: “How could you be so stupid? Apple juice doesn't go in a car! What were you thinking?”

And I would say: “OK, so what's different if you take carbon dioxide and pour it into your stomach? Carbon dioxide, in the form of fizzy drinks, is a waste product to the human body and you are pouring it in by the gallon, every day? How long do you think your body can withstand that kind of abuse? How long would your car last if I poured waste products into it? It's true that your body is amazingly resilient, but it does have a breaking point. But why push it to the breaking point. Why not just give it what it requires and call it good? That's what you expect and demand for this car that isn't even alive, or that animal that you take care of. What are you thinking?”

Yes, I often wonder if we haven't missed something. Like how to live without deliberately killing ourselves one bite at a time.

A Real Hero

Joan of Arc is my hero. Ever since I learned about her life, I have been fascinated with her extraordinary character and determination in the face of the more than overwhelming odds against her. Nevertheless, she succeeded in her task, and finished her life with great dignity. I admire her for many reasons, not the least of which is that she was just a young girl when she set about to save her country.

At the tender age of seventeen she began her journey towards the uncrowned king; trying to get an escort, getting people to believe her, and enduring persecution. She braved the ridicule of men three times her age, courtiers, captains and soldiers all for the sake of her belief that what she had to offer was worth the trouble. Her initial success in convincing one man to allow her an escort to go and visit the king was answered with anger from her family and a plot among the escort guards to kill her and return to the relative safety of their home.

You see, France was at war and had been for many years. The war had gone on so long and with so little success that the French people in some parts of the country had given up hope of ever regaining their sovereignty and had begun to accept the English rule and some even became complicit with the English. Joan, on the other side of the country, had never given up hope that she would one day see a liberated France and she knew in her heart that a vital step toward that liberation was for the people to have their Monarch placed firmly on the French throne. She knew that the people believed that without a crowned king, they were relatively leaderless and powerless against the enemy. But the place where the king must be crowned was held captive by the English and the king dared not to enter the city, and so was in exile awaiting the military victory which he believed would never come.

Joan believed that she had a message from God to the king that would change the attitude of the king toward himself and the war. This crucial information, she believed, would be the turning point in the war with the English and allow her country to break free from the occupation. She traveled through enemy territory for several days to reach the place where the king was in hiding, and amidst the jeers and unbelief of everyone present, miraculously singled out the disguised king whom she had never before beheld and delivered her message. The king was dramatically moved by the message and her recognition of him and believed implicitly that Joan was indeed sent to help the country. After many weeks of official examination by the priests of the area, Joan was allowed to lead an army to battle against the English.

In spite of the fact that her generals and captains were constantly trying to subvert her actions and decisions, Joan led the army to victory after victory, herself at the head, carrying her white banner. She personally wept over the dead in the field and she sustained several serious wounds, though she herself inflicted none. She succeeded in bringing the king to be crowned at his home castle in the once-occupied city of Rheims. The English, outraged at the success of the army after so many years of defeat and slow deterioration, were determined to stop Joan. Thanks to some of the French aristocrats who had become complicit with the English, a plot was formed in which Joan was to be abandoned by her own men and released to the English.

The plot was successful in that Joan was captured, tried and put to death. But it failed in that France continued to fight the battle which Joan had started and eventually regained their sovereignty, due entirely to the work of Joan of Arc.

She was just a girl; a very young girl. She had only a belief; a vision of what could be accomplished. She had the courage to stand to the death for what she believed in, not for her own sake, but for the sake of the freedom of her land and people. She didn't give up when people mocked her, questioned her, betrayed her, accused her and killed her.

She is not a cartoon superhero with superhuman skill. She was just a girl with an idea. It was an idea that cost her life, but in return, she restored her country's freedom, sovereignty and a chance to live like men. Not bad...for a girl.

Garbage: Millions Served

My hat is off to those people who can write books of creatively written stories that take you to another place and time, or those who can portray real events in people's lives in such a way that they are enjoyable to read and learn from. Many times as I have been reading a good book I have found myself wanting the book not to end and wishing that the author had written more books like this one.

One such author is C.S. Lewis. I have read many of his books and each time I get to the end of one of his books, I am sad that there is not another page to turn or another book of his waiting to be read. I like his books because they are intelligent, witty and always have something to teach me that I didn't know before I read it. Unlike some of today's fiction, his books have intrinsic value to the reader. In other words, he was not writing merely to occupy the reader's time with an interesting story, but there seems to be a higher purpose in the book which the reader may or may not discover.

I have read many moralizing books that attempt to tell a story while at the same time telling you what you are supposed to think and learn from it. Books or movies that use this format are about as appealing as cold mashed potatoes. On the other hand, I love to read books that allow me to discover things about the story that were not actually told to me. Like being given a good piece of meat to chew on, it's something you can sink your teeth into; something your mind can ponder. There are too many books that have nothing in them but the surface story line, like a soap opera. They are merely a string of events, one leading to another in an endless succession of trauma and escape, with no real or thought-provoking dialog, characters or situations.

As I picked up another 'best-seller' the other day, the thought occurred to me that the book sounded exactly like I was reading a screen-play for a movie. It was not really literature, but a movie on paper. There was little time spent developing the background or characters. There was a lot of childish, petty dialog and some loosely drawn descriptions of clothing, but not so much that you might be able to learn anything from it, or have anything to think about. In fact, there seemed to be a significant lack of thought in everything. The story rambled as thought it were being invented on the spot, by a five-year-old child and the characters had anything but character.

If this had been a book that I picked up from the used book store and not a best-seller, I might not have been so surprised. But if that book is a best-seller, then we are in trouble. I say trouble because I think it is trouble when such a large portion of our population is consuming such large amounts of mental trash. But it's a little bit like the guy who tried to sue McDonald's for serving food that caused him to be obese and unhealthy. He had the choice to eat or not to eat, but he wanted someone else to be responsible.

We have the choice to consume or not to consume anything, whether it is food, entertainment, news or anything. We can be like the man at McDonald's and say that it was their fault for serving bad food, or we can take responsibility for our choices, in spite of the convenience of having the poorest quality if goods served microwave fresh, day and night and in your face. As with the body, so with the mind: 'garbage in, garbage out'. 'Garbage out' will never change by itself. It is always the result of the initial choice of 'garbage in'. So, we can either get used to garbage, or we can put the garbage where it belongs and start over. Is there really any other choice?

I Dare You

I dare you to think for yourself. It sounds simple, I know, but who among us can boast that he has done it? Who has actually done the research himself into the perplexing questions of our day, discovered the truth and had the courage to believe what he discovered? It's too easy to just believe what we are told, since we are told it so many times, from so many sources.

It begins when we read our first text book. These books are written by a select few individuals who have been appointed and chosen to summarize the original sources for the benefit of the student. Supposedly this saves many hours of time in research and discovery. The student simply reads the conclusions and is satisfied that he has a knowledge in that field. It was only when I began to read sources of knowledge for myself that I realized that the summaries I was reading were actually only politically correct interpretations of the actual facts. As times have changed so have the interpretations, so that now when I read, say, a history text, it is vastly different from the one I read when I was a child.

History texts are one example of this principle, but the same holds true in other fields. For example, the interpretation of scientific data concerning the origin of the universe, the origin of life and the nature of that life is in a constant state of flux. From year to year one can find widely varying differences in the current theories, current interpretations and currently accepted 'facts'. The interpretations of biology, social sciences, psychology, health science, history, government and even English literature are changing so often today that one hardly knows where to stand from one day to the next, much less from one generation to the next.

A big problem arises then, when parents attempt to teach and help their children. They may have been taught and believed in a certain concept when they were young, but when they try to teach it to their children or even to help the child with their school work the parents can easily be made to look ridiculous in the eyes of the child and his teacher for holding to 'outmoded' beliefs or views. When that happens there is a subtle shift in allegiance from parents and tradition to teachers and textbooks.

There is nothing in the world like first hand information. When I read about the holocaust I do not go to a textbook to read someone else's opinion about what he thinks has happened based on what HE has read. I go to the source. I read first hand accounts of people who were there. They are not interpreting the situation for me, they are simply recounting their experience and I am free to interpret it according to my own values and understanding.

The other day I read a news broadcast stating that the action in Lybia was considered as a controlled peacekeeping mission, not a war. However, in reading first hand accounts of what is actually happening, I have decided that it is actually war. Those who say it is not war want me to think this so I will accept their actions as necessary and not think of the ramifications this action might have on our own country or the one we happen to be bombing, not to mention thinking of my nieces and nephews in the military who might be risking life and limb for such a venture, and further, the implications this might have for our future if war can be waged without the consent of the Congress, so long as you do not call it war.

All of this and more are the reasons why textbooks, news broadcasts and other forms of controlled media are not the best places to shop for information or interpretation. Going to the source might be harder and less predictable, but if it prevents me from making grave mistakes, I am content. I dare you to go to the source, to think for yourself and to find your own way in this maze of information and interpretation. I just dare you to think for yourself. Joan of Arc was one girl who thought for herself, made a difference and saved her country. Maybe one of us could do something like that. Or we can just listen to the news.

Character Development, Please

When I read a book or watch a movie or talk to someone I am always looking for that little something special on the inside that rings true and lifts me above my former self and makes me a better person. The longer I live and the more I see of the world, it seems, the harder it is to find that something special that lifts one beyond the mundane.

In books it usually shows itself in character development. You begin reading about someone and as you read, you like the person, feel empathy for their situation and begin to relate to them on a personal level. That person then faces a challenge which seems insurmountable and you feel sympathy and even pain for the character. Then, as the book progresses, the person learns things that help him to overcome the challenges he faces. The learning is real, right and easy to relate to. Finally, there is a resolution and an ending. This pattern is effective and provides a guide for readers and writers alike. And although not all literature falls into this pattern, enough of it does to illustrate the point.

Conversely there is a growing body of fiction being written today that follows an increasingly chaotic pattern. I read a book recently that was talked about by many people in my acquaintance. I had heard from many people that it was a good book and I was willing to give it a try. I don't usually read a book unless I have many referrals simply because my time is so limited and I don't want to waste it in reading something that is not worth my time. So, as I read this book, I began to be interested in the characters, wondering what they were going to do and what would happen. The more I read, the more I wanted to read. Then, although the story was interesting and I wanted to know what would happen, I began to notice the lack of descriptions. We were seldom told how things looked or felt, but we were constantly being pushed into another crisis with little background and almost no character development. I found myself wanting to stop the author and ask a few questions about the characters, the place and the time. It was like talking to a young child who, in their anxiety to tell you the story and what happened, forget important details that give important insight into the story and help you understand what is happening.

For example, in the book Robinson Crusoe, the author tells not only the story of a man on an island and how he survives the terrible trials he faces, but he also gives you ample opportunity to get to know what kind of person he is before he reaches the island. We meet his family, share his dreams, his mistakes and his trouble. When he reaches the island, we are fairly confidant in the knowledge of who he is and what he might do. Then we are surprised and pleased by the things he learns and how he changes. In the other book I have described, this character development and story preparation is almost entirely lacking. The result then, is a kind of soap opera book that goes from one crisis to another with no character development, no learning, no growth. The plot goes from one dramatic, sensational trauma to another with sometimes miraculous recovery, but it never seems real or beneficial. What it lacks in character and plot development it tries to make up for in reckless sensationalism. Then to top off the affront, instead of having a decent ending with some closure and resolution, they simply leave you hanging and expect you to wait for and buy the next book that promises to be more of the same. Ugh.

Books and movies are more abundant now than ever. They fill our libraries and occupy our time, but rare indeed is that book or movie that in my opinion, has that something special that lifts you and makes you a better person or improves your outlook. It is as rare as a balanced budget in government and honest men in politics. Hmm. I wonder if there is any correlation.

Not All The Answers

I'm sure that I do not have all the answers to anything, but here are a few little things I think I have learned over the short time I have inhabited this planet:

Gray skies and rain outside generally coincide with gray skies and rain inside.

People with the most and nicest things SEEM the happiest.

Life is always different and people are always the same.

The only sure bet is that you are going to lose money if you bet.

Politicians lie.

Children are like computers: Garbage in, garbage out.

Freedom is not granted by governments nor given to us through the sacrifices of other people.

Freedom is a gift which some people have learned to appreciate, understand, use and maintain for themselves, but I cannot do it for you, nor you for me.

There are a few really great things that cannot be purchased for all the money in the world. They are: Health, Peace, Family, Love and Happiness. They also happen to be among the only things worth having.

Music isn't something you practice, it's something you are.

Love grows on trees and falls from the sky. If it were money, everyone would be picking it up and using it.

You cannot get ahead by pushing someone else back.

Taking advantage of someone's weakness or ignorance isn't good business it's bad manners.

There are no shortcuts in life.

Never underestimate the power of words.

If you want people to like you, don't do anything.

There are very few people who have escaped death.

The only person you really HAVE to live with is yourself.

Today is the only tomorrow you will ever have.

Comedy Relief

I've been living with children all of my life. As a child, I grew up with six younger siblings, for whom I was often responsible. As an adult I have been raising my family for twenty-three years. Although these facts do not necessarily make me an expert on children, they do give ample proof that the ideas I have formed as a result of this association have not been formed over night. One in particular that I have wondered about is the idea of spontaneous life and growth.

Throughout my sixteen years as a student and subsequently as a connoisseur of current scientific research, I have been intrigued by the theory that life formed itself and grew from a disorganized to an organized to an extremely complex state without the aid of any outside guiding force or intelligence. This founding principle is key in establishing the remainder of this theory, which takes easy strides from spontaneous generation to spontaneous change of species, usually based on changes in weather and habitat. One of the premises for this theory is that time, (millions upon millions of years), would be enough to effect these changes and that we are now living here as a result of all of this spontaneous growth and change.

I said that I had lived around children all my life. I think this gives me a unique insight into the plausibility of the theory of spontaneous generation and change. Let me illustrate. On a daily basis, I remove from our home large piles of debris, the result of learning, work and play. These are relatively intelligent beings doing relatively intelligent things and the outcome is always riddled with trash. On days when I am gone for part of the day or if I happen to be sick and cannot clean up, the trash piles up and the debris waits for me. How long do you think I would have to wait for that trash to grow legs and walk away, or pick itself up, or grow wings and fly away? Is there any amount of time that would bring about this miracle?

The law of entropy states that all matter goes from a more organized to a less organized state. In other words, everything decays and dies. The theory of spontaneous generation assumes that at some point matter did not obey that law, but went opposite to it, going from a less organized to a more organized state, without aid. Basically, the house got clean without anyone cleaning it. I could wait until my whole house turned to dust and the trash in my house will never organize itself or become something else. I think my children must believe something like that because they will wait until there are no clean dishes in the cupboard, no empty space on the floor and no clean clothes left in the drawer before they will initiate a change, and even then, they might not. And my children have a measure of intelligence. The trash does not. It is beyond reasonable thought to assume that matter, any matter, if left alone long enough, or even thrown together with other types of matter for an infinite amount of time could ever result in the complex relationships we now witness and experience in nature on a daily basis.

I picture my children throwing things at one another, as a sort of game, just throwing and throwing and then turning to me and saying, “Why doesn't it make a castle or something?” They could throw that stuff together for centuries and it would still not form a castle or anything. LIFE DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY! Laundry will never do itself, castles do not build themselves and even children do not become more intelligent unless they are nurtured and taught to do so. Dirt thrown together forever, will still be dirt and cannot possibly ever just turn itself into something else. This is a magic and a superstition that is beyond belief and past reason. When you can show me garbage that magically turns itself into intelligent life, and children who magically become wise and good without the aid of other intelligent life then I might consider spontaneous generation as something besides comedy relief.