The Circus of Life

Have you ever been to a circus? There are clowns, jugglers, tight-rope walkers, trapeze artists, lion tamers and a host of uniquely talented people. They travel around working their magic on children and adults alike, bringing the amazing and the shocking right to your home town. Their life seems glamorous, like Hollywood, and children watch open-mouthed, planning the day when they will take their place among the great circus performers of history. It is a profession as old as the earth, yet never too highly respected. But if we look closely, we might see ourselves a little more clearly under the 'big top'.

We are born into this circus. Our parents were part of the circus, and so of course are we. We are raised and trained in all the ways of being a circus performer from the time we are able to crawl. Juggling lessons begin very early, say three or four. We learn the delicate art of juggling schedules, parents, school and day care. Many children at this tender age, also learn to swing on the trapeze of divorce, going back and forth between two or even three households, hoping they don't slip and fall somewhere in between.

As teenagers, we learn to walk the tight-rope. You start with a pole on the ground until you have mastered the skill of balance. As your skill increases, you are given greater challenges, until you can walk the rope, suspended high in the air, without falling. It would be foolish indeed to send a young person out on the suspended high-wire without first training them in the skill and helping them to decrease the risk of falling. However, my own heart still hurts from the agony of watching some of the best and brightest of young people fall to their death after being sent out on the high wire of life without the safety net of rules, or the patient teaching required to give them the skills necessary to successfully navigate past the danger.

As an adult, it seems like we are riding around a ring on a galloping horse, jumping through hoops that are occasionally on fire. For some people, that would be putting it mildly. Adults have terrific obstacles to overcome in their lives and are sometimes required to perform super-human tasks on a daily basis, just to survive. And, oddly enough, when we have done those amazing things, we still fail to see ourselves as anything but ordinary. Then, after our riding act we have to quickly change costume and become a lion tamer. That's no big deal, right? Just go into the lion's cage, crack the whip, and tell them what to do. Anyone who has been a lion tamer, or a parent knows that it simply isn't that easy. If you don't know what you are doing, they will eat you alive. And even if you do know what you are doing they may still eat you alive. Either way, it's a terrible way to die! Even great lion tamers get wounded and maimed. Even the best parents have a very hard time raising children.

Now, lest you think that this is a little bit depressing, I need to add one more thing about the circus. There is always a ringmaster. Usually, he owns the show, pays the performers and announces the events. He has traditionally been one who had been a circus performer himself and understood the operation from the inside out. Because the success of the entire circus depends upon it, he must be concerned for the safety and success of each performer. He would know the skill of each performer but would also wish to challenge each to be better, in order for the whole show to be better. He would encourage the young to practice. He would admonish the youth to follow directions and guidelines for their own safety. He would encourage the seasoned adult performers to keep trying new things as well as teaching the young ones the rules and tricks of the trade. And, above all, he would know each of his performers individually. He wouldn't ask more of them than they were capable of because he knows that it might mean their death. He certainly reminds me of someone.

Life in the circus is not easy. The risks are many, the rewards few. But every morning when I wake up, I just can't wait to get back to work under the 'big top'. Maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I just discovered that the ringmaster is really my friend, and he wants to teach me how to do everything. And I want to learn everything, just like him.

Which Window?

Just suppose...

There once was a man who lived in an apartment house by the side of a factory. Every day when he woke up, all he could see was the factory. He began his day thinking about the factory workers and how difficult their jobs must be. He also thought about the owner of the company and wondered why he didn't do something to improve the conditions in the factory. Then he would get angry at all factory owners in general and start muttering something about government and salaries, taxes and strikes. He would listen to the news on his way to work, getting more and more angry at 'someone' until the traffic got bad and he would turn his anger at the drivers on the road. When he got to work, he would be in such a foul mood that no one wanted to talk to him. He would sit in his office and wonder why people seemed to be afraid of him. Finally, the unhappy man died of a bleeding ulcer.

There was another man who lived on the other side of the apartment building whose window looked out onto a small city park. Each morning when he woke up he would look out and see people briskly walking through the park, some for exercise, some for pleasure. Sometimes he could see children playing, and always he could see the ever-changing, ever-beautiful trees. Every morning, he would begin his day thinking about those trees; wondering who must have planted them, how old they were and what kind of trees they were. It intrigued him to see so many different kinds of trees so he would sometimes walk home from work through the park to study the leaves and bark so that when he got home he could look up what kinds they were. People at work thought he was such an interesting person because he always had some new bit of information about nature to share. Sometimes they would ask him questions about their gardens or trees and he would always have a helpful answer or would find one for them. That man lived a long, happy life with many friends, and made significant contributions to his surroundings with his excellent insights.

There was yet another man in the apartment building. He had neither the view of the factory nor of the park, but his view was only a solid brick wall. He would look out his window in the morning and remind himself that he always seemed to be up against a wall in his life. Either he couldn't get a job, or the job he had was a tedious factory job that he couldn't endure for more than a few weeks. He was always hearing those words, “I'm sorry, but we'll have to let you go. Your quotas are consistently low and we just can't afford to keep you on.” Trying to pay bills, trying to keep his apartment, trying just to survive seemed too difficult and sometimes pointless. One day as he was coming back from a fruitless job search, the man looked at the side of the apartment building and noticed that the fire escape led up to the roof of the building. He had thought all day that if he had a suitable place from which to jump, that he would, and just try to end it all. He went up to his apartment and wrote a note, to no one in particular because he thought he had no friends, then he walked out into the hall to get to where the fire escape was. As he closed the door, he heard footsteps on the stair, so he tried to act casual by just looking out the window. The footsteps came closer until they stopped...right next to him.

The footsteps belonged to the man in the apartment with the view of the park. He had also come to the window to use the fire escape. Seeing a stranger at the window, the man introduced himself and then excused himself saying that he was going up to the roof to get a birds-eye view of the trees in the surrounding area. The two men began to talk and soon found that they had much in common. The man with the view of the park discovered that the man with the view of the brick wall actually had a degree in horticulture and could tell him much about the trees he was studying. They made an appointment to meet and discuss some questions. Later, with the influence he had at his work, the man with the view of the park helped the man with the view of the wall to find a position in his field. He loved the job and the two became fast friends and shared many discussions about trees.
You and your neighbor live there too.

Yankee Doodle Dandy

My Grandpa was born on the 4th of July and every year on his birthday we would stand around the old spool that served as a picnic table and sing “Yankee Doodle Dandy” instead of “Happy Birthday”. Grandpa was one of my favorite people in this world. He used to thump my head with his fingers to let me know he was behind me. He always wore his slippers in the house because Grandma made him take off his boots. Grandpa was a farmer in the truest sense of the word. He raised cows, chickens, wheat, hay, horses and children. Oh, and I forgot, rocks. That old homestead in North Dakota was about half rocks. He loved it anyway and I loved it too.

Whenever we would visit, I would beg to be allowed to go with the boys and help in the field. Grandpa was determined that I was going to stay in the house. He didn't want anything to happen to me. I guess he wasn't worried about my brothers. As a toddler I remember sitting on his lap while he did little tricks for me. He would make things disappear and I would try to guess where they had gone. I loved to listen to Grandma and Grandpa sing “Amazing Grace, while Grandpa played the ukulele. He would sit to the old piano and sing Tra-la-la, because he didn't know the words to the songs. Dominoes, Cooties, Chinese Checkers and Parcheesi were always on hand to play at Grandpa's house, and Grandma always had a piece of cake or fudge stripe cookies to eat. Whenever I would stay the night at Grandpa and Grandma's, we would get to ride down to the mailbox on Grandpa's old horse Smokey to pick up the mail. And on Memorial Day, Grandpa would take us to the old Cemetery on the Prairie where many of our relatives were buried and tell us stories about them.

Grandma would always interrupt Grandpa when he was telling a story, trying to put in her two cents, and Grandpa would always huff and puff and say, “Let me tell it!” And whenever he visited our house I would find him in some quiet corner of the house taking a nap. Grandpa used to tell us stories about when Grandma was teaching school at the little one room school a mile from their house. He would hitch up the sleigh and put hot rocks in the bottom, bundle Grandma and the kids in their blankets and drive them to the school. Then he would get the old coal stove burning before he left for home. Grandpa had a big red barn where he kept hay, milked cows and raised calves. When I was little he took me by the hand one day and walked me out to the barn. He wouldn't tell me what he as up to until we got in the barn and he lifted me up to the horses manger where there was a batch of kittens. He let me sit in the manger and play with them while he did his chores.

All this and so much more is what I remember of Grandpa. But there is one memory of him that causes me pain. It was when I was a teenager. My best friend Darcy had come to spend the day with our family at Grandpa's house. We had gotten out of the car and headed straight for the barn to saddle the horse and go for a ride. We didn't tell anyone. I guess we just assumed that they knew. We rode out of the yard and down the road where I had something special I wanted to show my friend. When we got to the special place, we tied up the horse and began to explore. There was a great little mud hole where we had a water fight, a little cliff on which we climbed and carved our names, a beaver dam to inspect and best of all, no one else around. We had the time of our lives. After a long time we got back on the horse and rode to the farm, but what awaited us was an unwelcome surprise. Everyone was upset and worried and we were in trouble because no one knew where we were. Grandma and Grandpa were especially angry and told us that we couldn't ride the horse ever again. It was the first time they had ever been angry at me. I was heartbroken. I felt banished and dead inside. Then, just a few days later, I received a phone call from my Dad telling me that Darcy had been killed in a car accident. I thought my life had caved in. The pain was interminable. After the funeral Grandpa apologized for being angry. But I learned one of the toughest lessons of my life. That is, that the anger of someone you love can be just as painful as losing someone you love in death, but anger can be avoided.

Four Big Lies for Parents to Swallow

I just read the article from the pentagon that seven out of ten youths were unfit for military service. What else can you expect from a government-run educational program? First, they take a child away from parents at the earliest possible age, which is now as young as three years. Then, they spent fifteen years indoctrinating, forcing, humiliating, grading, and intimidating him, until finally, he escapes with his life, or what's left of it, and he tries to find a better life. At this point he feels that even war would be better than federal educational prison, so he enlists in the system again. Unfit? Who made them that way? Parents have almost no say in their child's education anymore. Women are liberated from motherhood, and parents from parenthood, and feel almost no responsibility for their children. Just hand them to the state as soon as they will take them, and wait fifteen years for the results. But the truth is, that seven out of ten who are unfit for the military are also unfit for life in general. Can't read? Great, you can be a mechanic, maybe, but only if you can run a computer. Without reading?!

Who is responsible then, for letting these children grow up in utter ignorance? Who can change this? One of the stupidest things that legislators and people alike agree on is that more money will solve our educational problems! The absurdity of the premise is colossal! Yes, throw more money at the government and they will suddenly become better, more effective and more caring. Silly people, you can't expect “Government” to love, nurture, teach, train and guide your children any more than you can expect them to cut their own throats. The more money you send their way, the more they will want to keep you as their captive host. They want nothing more than for you to believe that it is more money they need in order to teach your children to read. I will tell you a secret. It doesn't take money to teach a child to read. It takes time. Time that the public school system will not and cannot give to anyone. If a child learns to read, it is because they had parents who cared enough to teach them. Schools take credit for every child that leaves the school with a diploma, and every child that reads. But when it comes to the children who didn't learn to read, they always, ALWAYS lay the blame on the parents. Then, they lobby for legislation to get those children away from their parents sooner, so they can have more time to “teach” them, (and more money, by the way). But the fact is, the more time a child spends away from his parents, the less likely he is to read, or learn, or do anything worthwhile.

The real problem here is not ultimately the schools. It is the parents. Parents have been taught all their lives that in order for their child to have an education, they have to go to school.

Lie # 1.
Parents believe that they are incapable of providing any kind of instruction for their children because they are not “qualified professionals”. (As if twelve years of education were not enough.)

Lie # 2.
And parents think that the school, or the government, or social services or anyone else is responsible but themselves.

Lie # 3
How can we save the rising generation from the ignorance of it's parents if not by breaking the cycle of abuse and stopping the insane forced, humiliation called public school. The only reason there were schools, to begin with was because books were not available to everyone. School made possible the use of books by those who could not buy them. Today is different. Books, libraries and the internet are as available as air. No parent is without the resources to provide education for all their children. But parents have been fed on the lies of the state for so long that they actually believe that you have to be a professional “teacher” in order to teach and you have to have a “teacher” in order to learn! Public education thrives on the concept of 'granted' knowledge. We 'grant' your diploma, we 'give' your grade. We 'offer' education.

That is Lie # 4.
No one 'gives' you knowledge. If you don't learn it, no amount of giving will educate you. But Public School is not about learning. It is all about doing time. They don't care whether or not you learn, whether or not you read, whether or not you succeed, whether or not you are happy. They care only that you did your time. You do your time, we'll graduate you, one way or another. And that's no lie.

Give Change A Chance

When I was a teenager, I went to a music camp during my summer vacations. It was a great place to meet people, develop my talents, and just get away from my regular routine. The summer of my senior year in high school, after I had been going to the camp for five years, it happened that the teacher I had been studying with each year for those five years, was called away suddenly for a reason unknown to me and I found myself very sad over his departure.

When the new teacher arrived I was not happy. “How can this guy take his place?” I thought. “It just isn't fair that I should have to get used to a new teacher after all these years.” So I went in to the audition with this new guy with pretty bad attitude. First, he asked me to play a few scales, then a couple of exercises, then one of the recital pieces. Thanks to my sour disposition, I played poorly andwent away with the chip still on my shoulder. He thanked me kindly and sent me on my way. The next day when the results of the audition were posted, I was shocked and dismayed to find myself demoted from first chair to last. It was humiliating, to say the least.



The beautiful, brisk summer morning was lost on me, as I sat sulking in my seat, at the end of the row. I couldn't remember a time when I had ever sat in that seat. All my life I thought I was a good player and now, because of my thoughtlessness and pride, I was put in my place -- at the bottom. Nothing in my life has ever taught me more powerfully the importance of patience, forbearance, and humility. I knew that I deserved to be where I was, because of how I acted and felt. I also knew that I could do better, both musically and emotionally. That day, I promised myself that I would to better. During that week, I practiced longer, and pushed myself harder than I ever had in my life. When the time came for me to go to my lesson, I took a deep breath and told myself that it didn't matter that my old teacher was gone, that I could give this new teacher a chance, and that I was going to play better that day than I ever had before.

I will never forget the look of surprise on the new teacher's face as he heard me play that day in my lesson. I really did play better than I ever had in my life, and he was not only surprised, but amazed that I had made such progress in such a short time. He told me that I had the potential to play professionally and that I needed to continue my playing after I graduated. He gave me a bunch more books, a lot of advice and a big pat on the back. It was good to be vindicated. But I knew that the real reason I had done so well, was because of the new teacher. Even though I was angry at first because of the change, in the end it gave me the incentive to be better than I was. I had become complacent and self-satisfied, and this unwelcome change pushed me back into determination and progress.

I finished that summer in the last seat of that row, not sulking, but grateful. Grateful for unwelcome change and new opportunities, grateful for last chairs and second chances, and especially grateful for old teachers and new ones.

Someone has said that the only constant thing in this universe is change. Sometimes change seems like the enemy and we either fight it or run from it. Instead, why not give change a chance. It may be just what we need.

Wendell, A Place to See

Last summer on a trip through the mid-west, I saw a great deal of prairie land, farm land, sagebrush and telephone poles; some of which was interesting and some of which was downright drab. But in all of that driving and drabness there were a few places that I just had to see. One was Mount Rushmore, and another was the Wall Drug Store. You simply do not drive through South Dakota without seeing Mount Rushmore. Hence the thousands of people who were doing the same thing. The people seemed to come from nowhere! The freeways were not jammed with people going there, but when you got there it looked like a Dallas Cowboys football game had just ended and people were everywhere! When we stopped at the famous Wall Drug it was the same story: namely, barren roads with an occasional car and then, BOOM!, right in the middle of this tiny town is a whole city of people who just have to see Wall Drug. I saw it too. But why? And, more importantly, what can we learn from it?

I have heard of Mount Rushmore since I was a small child. I grew up in a small town in North Dakota and would have considered myself highly cultured and cosmopolitan if I had been able to visit that place when I was a child. So when the opportunity arrived and I was actually driving through South Dakota there was no question that we should stop and see that icon of America. On the other hand I had no such glossy memories of youth to prompt me to visit the Wall Drug Store or the Corn Palace or any other place in the mid-west. However, while driving down that barren, almost deserted road I began to feel an urgent desire, even need, to see the Corn palace, and Wall Drug.

Curiosity can be a powerful thing. And I was curious. What made me curious? Oh, it was just little things. There was a small, almost too small, sign by the road about 75 miles from Wall Drug. It said something like: “Ice cream shop and candy store at Wall Drug”. That was it... for that mile. In another couple of miles the sign read along these lines: “Old Fashioned Cowboys at Wall Drug”. Every couple of miles for the next seventy miles there was a little sign with a little blurb, and sometimes a small picture attached to it. As we got closer, the signs got bigger and brighter so that by the time we had reached the exit, it would have seemed wrong not to turn in and see it. Like I said, curiosity can be a powerful thing.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I was amazed at what they had at Wall Drug. I had a good time. I took pictures. I bought a souvenir. And so did everyone else. Now I know why the roads were so desolate. Everyone was at Wall Drug. However, the point of this article is not to extol the virtues of Wall Drug, but to ask the obvious question: Why don't we do something like that? Simerly's, for example would be a great place to start. “If we don't have it, you don't need it.” Isn't that how the saying goes? I think there is plenty about Wendell that is worth seeing, if people only knew about it. I didn't know about the Corn Palace until I was driving by and saw a dozen, or so, signs telling me about it. But the Corn Palace is just one town's way of showing what they can do. It grew into something big for them and when you drive by you just have to see it and in so doing you support it. I think Wendell could use that kind of support.

Do I Have a Choice?

Being alive is life-threatening! Get in your car and you might be killed. Get the flu and you might die. Eat the wrong thing and you might get cancer. Take the wrong plane and you might never come home. Breathe polluted air and it might poison you. And the list goes on. Let's face it; Life is dangerous. So, we should all just live in protective bubbles, right? Well...
I love to watch toddlers. They are so brave and adventurous. They are always taking risks and stepping out on a limb, (sometimes literally!) They love to learn new things and they usually love to try every new thing they see. Not only are they not worried about the consequences, but they frequently laugh in the face of disaster or danger. Granted, this behavior is largely due to the child's ignorance. They simply do not understand the gravity of each situation. So, parents teach them what it means to be 'careful'. Of course, this is a good thing. But an interesting thing happens to some people who teach others to be careful. Somewhere along the line, and it's usually labeled as 'concern for your safety', the parent or whoever is doing the teaching, begins to think that teaching someone to be careful is not enough. Compelling the child to be careful, grounding the child, punishing the child, or restricting the child, all follow easily in the wake of the teaching. ( I do not imply that there is not a time when a small child must be protected from his ignorance, as in: taking a small child out of the way of an oncoming car.) People justify this process of compulsion because they feel that they know best what the child needs and therefore they have a responsibility to enforce the rules or safety policies.
Consider, that a child cannot possibly learn to choose correctly if never allowed to choose. That sounds simple enough, but who really believes that. The actions of most people of my acquaintance seem overwhelmingly in favor of compulsion, not choice. And, sadly enough, once the compulsion has begun, often, the teaching ends. The child is left to wonder what life would have been like if he had been allowed to make a choice. Then, as an independent adult, the child begins to make all the choices denied him as a child. This is standard juvenile behavior, and yet parents are still falling into this old trap. Teaching and choosing must go hand in hand. Compulsion should have no place in the equation.
Children need to make choices early and often. They need to be allowed to make choices that affect their future, while they are very young. In that way, they learn what is good and works, and they learn what is bad and doesn't. When allowed to choose at an early age with the constant teaching and caring supervision of loved ones, a child will become confident in making choices that impact his life for the better. It sets a pattern for the child's life that builds happiness and security.
Just as parents have a responsibility to teach children to be careful but, in my opinion, not to force their choices, so I believe also the same principle applies to people who are given authority to govern other people. Choices must be allowed. Certainly there is a time for appropriate reprimand and punishment for those who choose to do damage to others in any way. But to restrict choice is to create the monster of unbridled choice. When laws seek to compel a man to make him 'good', they create the very thing they seek to eliminate. Rebellion and not obedience is the result.
I believe that children can be taught to make wise choices by giving them important choices to make and allowing them at a very young age to feel the consequences of those choices. I also believe that people do not have the right to grant other people the authority to force people to be 'good'. It never achieves it's end, and probably does great harm as well. We can put people in a bubble and force them to be safe, educated, well, obedient and productive, or we can realize that life is a test, a challenge, a journey, and a choice.