The Oscars are my Super Bowl. For years, growing up, while other kids would stare in rapt awe at the World Series or Super Bowl and imagine themselves hitting that game winning home run or catching that all important touchdown, I practiced and practiced and practiced my acceptance speech for my Oscar. I was so convinced that I was going to be up there on that stage one day accepting my award that I never bothered to ask the question of what it was that I hoped I would actually receive. Accolades? Acceptance? Large monetary rewards? Self-esteem? I so accepted the knowledge that I would be there, that it was somehow a fait d'accompli, that I never actually paused and asked myself why it was so important to me.
There have been a few setbacks along the way. For one thing, I'm not nearly as talented as I once thought. Somehow I've fallen off the peak that rested above Shakespeare, Walt Disney, and George Lucas and below God as the ultimate human author and I've tumbled past most of the great writers, film makers, and story tellers to a much more attainable plateau. Reality has played a large part in my new found humbleness. But the larger part has come about because of the inevitable delay in reaching these heights - somewhere along the way, when I thought I was lost, I discovered that I was really looking for something other than the summit of human achievement. The time spent NOT winning Oscars made me realize that I never really wanted an Oscar in the first place.
I think we all want our lives to have some significance. We want to do something that changes the world for the better. And, of course, we want to be acknowledged for the things we do. This was at the core of my wanting to win an Oscar - because in telling stories I found my true calling and there was no better way of being signified as a master storyteller in this American society than in winning an Oscar, being a best-selling writer, and then opening your own theme park. Yes, I wanted all three. I wanted to be such a good writer that people would run out of words to describe how good I was. A million Oscars weren't going to be enough. No. I pretty much wanted them to retire the award when I was done.
But wishes aren't enough. Dreams aren't enough. Talent isn't even enough. There is also desire. And desire is fueled by accomplishment. I could never quite get my stories up to the level where I knew they needed to be in order to be the Greatest EVER! My desire started to flag. My talent stopped developing. My dreams remained dreams. My wishes changed into more attainable common place things.
But I never gave up. Honestly, I couldn't. I never chose to be a writer. Writing chose me. It just happened to match the way that I see the world. Like a musician can never stop hearing the world as music and the artist can never stop seeing the world as art, the writer can never stop describing the world in words and stories. And so, here I was, writing and writing and writing without any hope of ever achieving impossible goals that I'd set for myself. And that was when I started asking the big question - why, exactly, am I doing this?
Though writing is one of the most solitary art forms, it requires participation to make it complete. A writer is nothing without a reader. This symbiotic relationship forms the basis for all writing decisions - will the story I tell be met with approval? Can I entertain another human being? Can I make them laugh? Cry? Shout for joy? Think? Change the world? While I had initially hoped for accolades, what I realized was that the true thing that I was hoping to do was simply tell good stories and have people enjoy them. Period. End of sentence. Nothing so mundane as making a good product that people enjoy and embrace and that hopefully moves them or helps them or teaches them or simply makes them forget their problems for a moment. Once I realized this, my focus changed and I started working on projects where the outcome was simply to produce something that someone else could enjoy. In this change of direction, I found success.
And yes, I even had my Oscar moment. It was sitting in a church social hall with about forty other people while my movie played on a screen for them to enjoy. My words made them laugh. My words kept them enthralled. My acting drove them to reach for the barf bags - or laugh as hard as I did when I first saw something so horribly awful. That was my Oscar moment. That was my highest accolade.
I will achieve another milestone this year. I wrote a play. Somewhat. It is a dramatic retelling of the Last Supper. My church will be performing it on Palm Sunday. We start rehearsals in a week. I am like a kid in a candy store waiting to hear others perform my words. I don't care how they do it (that's why I'd be a terrible director). I just want to hear my words move others. If it's good, so much the better. But just hearing the words spoken out load will be all the accolade I ask for. That is why I do what I do.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 04, 2011
Notes from the Road - Day Two - Karibu Nairobi
Back in the day we flew Lufthansa to Europe and back and I got used to a type of air travel that I’ve not experienced since. I’m crammed into my window seat next to a nice German couple no doubt heading off to Safari. Good for them. Africa needs tourism. Sitting in the row in front of me is a young man heading off on a six month stint with Doctors Without Borders. Outstanding. Half of the 400+ people on this plane are missionaries of one sort or the other. Are the do-gooders descending en mass? The plane is full. The service is excellent. I don’t think it’s providence. KLM restores my faith in flying.
Shortly after take off we were handed pretzels and I was not impressed until I realized that they were earphones for our personal seat units. These wonderful devices allow 400+ passengers to watch 400+ individual programs. I saw The Hangover and about 3/4ths of Star Trek. What I really wanted to see was Europe, The Med, and Africa from my window seat, but the glare from the window kept the German couple from seeing their TV screens – so a once in a lifetime view was replaced with mindless Hollywood entertainment.
We were served dinner. It was a salad and cheese and crackers and a dinner roll with butter and a crème puff pastry dessert with some sort of penne pasta dish as the main course. Wine was served with the meal at no extra charge.
And then the long hours of the flight. I was able to look down over Libya as they served the meal. At last, Africa from the air. Vast empty stretches of desert with long straight caravan lines running from one oasis to the next. Little puffy clouds hovered over it all giving the countryside the look of a Cheetah’s skin. But the window closed, and I tried to close my eyes as I passed the 24 hour point of the journey. I wasn’t able to find a comfortable position, even to shut my eyes. My legs were cramping up and I just wanted off that plane.
Thankfully the ice cream arrived just after that. It was just enough. I put on Star Trek then to distract me for the last three hours of the flight. Right before it ended, they served some sort of breakfast thingy and I decided that I wasn’t hungry. I’d had enough for now.
We landed and taxied to the terminal and there at the end of the jetway was Silas Muriuki and his “bodyguard”, Martin. Martin lead us through customs and into baggage claim. As soon as I was through customs he gave me a hug and said, “Jambo! Karibu Nairobi,” which means, Hello, Welcome to Nairobi. Martin is one of those nice guys, flash of a smile, that would look good equally on the dance floor or in the middle of a riot. About three months before our arrival, Silas and Martin drove into the middle of just such a riot – between enraged taxi drivers and embattled police. I can see Silas’s fearlessness. He is a true believer. And with Martin at his side, he might be invincible.
After getting most of our luggage and managing to cram it into two or three vehicles, we finally left the airport and took a bewildering tour through the nighttime streets of Nairobi. Picture the traffic of New York in a quaint New England town. It was bedlam at 10pm.
Two things of note here. The police carry fully automatic machine guns. I saw at least one AK-47. Second, their word is law. They pulled us over at one of the many neighborhood checkpoints and I was sure that bribes were going to be asked. But once again, Martin to the rescue, and we took off without so much as a hiccup. This is an unfortunate truth about this country and it helps to keep everything else in perspective.
At last, the Methodist Guest House and a rather nice, if spartan, room. It’s stifling hot. We go to a late dinner. A really delicious soup and potatoes and various Nyomi Choma meats – lots of chicken and beef. Rice. My appetite has returned and I nosh. But then its off to bed – finally – after 30+ hours awake.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Notes From The Road - One Year Ago Today
Who flies first class to Minneapolis? No, really. I started this journey with a somewhat facetious question. Our flight from SFO to Minn. Departs at 6:25am. It is half full. And yet, as we board, we walk right past an entirely full first class section. In this day and age of so many economic challenges, first class travel seems like such a wasteful luxury. These people have not only thrown away the extra money on first class, they’ve done so on first class tickets to Minneapolis. Nothing against this great Minnesota city, but that’s a little like taking the Rolls Royce to go buy groceries. It is a fitting indictment of everything I find wrong with America right now.
That’s America – with a Capital A – as in the country, the culture, and not its people or its spirit or its way. America is lost. We have been seduced by greed and wealth and ignorance. We have come to accept propaganda as truth. We have bought into the notion that we are deserving of our place in history as the World’s masters. Such hubris has always lead to destruction. The blood of patriots will have to be spilled again, I think, to refresh this tree of liberty.
But I think there is nothing wrong with America that Americans can’t fix. We’ve been in some pretty tough scrapes before but our love for truth, equity, and decency has always won out in the end. We will recover. We always do.
Staring out over a field of vast clouds, 36,000 feet in the air, and I can’t help but thinking that could be Africa down there. It hits me then. I’m going to Africa.
Africa – the legendary place of so much adventure. It’s very thought conjures up images of crocodile infested waters, strange and wondrous creatures, vast untamed wilderness, cultures ancient and exotic. It looks different and smells different and sounds different. It is half way around the world from me in every way imaginable. And I’m going there. I’m walking there. I’m sleeping there. I’m eating there. This isn’t a snippet of Africa like something out of Animal Kingdom. This is the full fledged experience.
In Minnesota, it is snowing and 30 degrees out. I manage to find an Arby’s for lunch and have a Bleu Cheese and Roast Beef sandwich. I don’t know when I’ll get another American meal. Before I know it, we’re boarding our flight to Amsterdam. There is a large group of college kids from Saskatchewan here heading to Nairobi. They take up the three rows in front of me. But sparingly, I’m once again next to no one. Breathing room is so necessary. For dinner, they serve some sort of veggie pasta dish. It is filling if not exactly thrilling.
Our individual TV sets go out, but that’s fine. My brain is starting to fog over with fatigue. I try to read one of the books I brought with me. But I don’t get very far. As the flight nears its end they serve us some sort of breakfast croissant thingy. It’s barely edible, but it does keep the hunger pangs away.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Tomorrow
Just to let you all know, tomorrow marks the one year anniversary of the day I left for Kenya. So in honor of this auspicious event and as a tribute to the group that flies out of here tomorrow to return to Kenya this year, I will be posting my journal entries from my Trip Journal during the course of the next three weeks. Of course, I never finished writing everything. I think I managed about seven or eight days of journal. But so many things happened in those first eight days, you'll have to forgive me if I ran out of time to write them all. I was too busy living them.
Anyway, come back tomorrow and relive the experience... starting with a 25+ hour plane trip.
Anyway, come back tomorrow and relive the experience... starting with a 25+ hour plane trip.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Broken
So what sort of radical revelation is it this time, you wonder. How about something that startled me way more than it will startle you. I'm broken.
No, not in a dysfunctional way - though aren't we all dysfunctional in some way - but in the way that is to be expected. I've come to realize that the hardest part I've had in embracing the gospel and the good news is the part that tells me to be perfect and yet expects me to fail. How can sin be allowed? Its wrong. It's evil. And yet, it's so human. We do it every single day. And then we try to pretend that we don't even knowing that God already knows us and can see us. We are that classic cartoon character who breaks the china lamp and then puts the pieces back on the mantle in the hopes that nobody will notice. It's funny because it's true. We are all broken in a society that tells us that we shouldn't be. I am broken.
That was the big revelation. The true sin, the true stumbling block in my relationship with God and with everyone else, was trying to be something I wasn't. I was trying to say that I was fixed, that I was whole, that I had... maybe not all the answers, but certainly some of them. I'm together. I'm hip. I'm with it. I may not be perfect, but I'm certainly better off than most. If you could see my swiss cheese soul you'd realize how laughable that is. I really do Con No One! They can all see my holes. But I've got some bad news for you sunshine, I can see your holes too. We are ALL broken. And I'm one of us - broken like the rest.
So, shaking your head right now, you're thinking, "Duh!" You knew that. You knew you weren't perfect. You knew you weren't flawless. But maybe, perhaps, you thought you were still better off than others. Ah... there's the rub. There is No Better Off. We are all broken and there is No Way to fix ourselves. Think about it... Jesus didn't come here to fix the one's who weren't broken. He came here to heal the sick, the impure, the desperate, the lonely, the fallen, the broken. He didn't even talk to those people who thought they were doing just fine, thanks. Those people, the one's who thought they were fixed, were just blind to their own nature. You can't be put back together again if you're not willing to see that you're broken in the first place. Paul called himself the Worst Of All Sinners. He embraced his brokenness. He understood what power it gave him, what true vision of the world.
I've realized that from my lofty heights as one of the unbroken I was seeing the world as a place that I could fix or try to help. This was the LOG in my eye. It made me blind to my own shortcomings. Even as I went to Kenya, I think I went there with the idea that I was going to help them. I didn't know how or what I'd do, but I was certain that God was sending me there to help those people in their brokenness. They were poor, destitute, miserable, etc... Except that I was completely 100% wrong. Their living conditions were poor, destitute, miserable to be certain. But the people were anything but. They were joyful and full of God's love. They weren't any more or less broken than anyone else, but they understood that and embraced it and embraced God because of it. I went there to help them, but instead I found myself being helped. It was I who was transformed. Them... not so much.
My vision of the world and of my place in it has changed dramatically. I am broken. I am unable to do anything without God's help. I can kid myself into thinking otherwise, but there is no point in arguing it. I have accomplished nothing that God did not want me to accomplish. And I have failed to accomplish much that He wished I had. Now that I finally see the log in my eye, perhaps I will accomplish more in the future - God-willing.
I'm sure that in the future I will speak to this more. My communication skills aren't up to the task of trying to convey the depth of thought and feeling that I've been experiencing lately. Its far better to just keep my mouth shut and my fingers silent and just enjoy the truth for what it is than to try to convey that truth and failing miserably. Someday I hope you'll all reach the point of your journey where you encounter this same truth. It's not far ahead, just a little higher up the mountain. Keep climbing.
No, not in a dysfunctional way - though aren't we all dysfunctional in some way - but in the way that is to be expected. I've come to realize that the hardest part I've had in embracing the gospel and the good news is the part that tells me to be perfect and yet expects me to fail. How can sin be allowed? Its wrong. It's evil. And yet, it's so human. We do it every single day. And then we try to pretend that we don't even knowing that God already knows us and can see us. We are that classic cartoon character who breaks the china lamp and then puts the pieces back on the mantle in the hopes that nobody will notice. It's funny because it's true. We are all broken in a society that tells us that we shouldn't be. I am broken.
That was the big revelation. The true sin, the true stumbling block in my relationship with God and with everyone else, was trying to be something I wasn't. I was trying to say that I was fixed, that I was whole, that I had... maybe not all the answers, but certainly some of them. I'm together. I'm hip. I'm with it. I may not be perfect, but I'm certainly better off than most. If you could see my swiss cheese soul you'd realize how laughable that is. I really do Con No One! They can all see my holes. But I've got some bad news for you sunshine, I can see your holes too. We are ALL broken. And I'm one of us - broken like the rest.
So, shaking your head right now, you're thinking, "Duh!" You knew that. You knew you weren't perfect. You knew you weren't flawless. But maybe, perhaps, you thought you were still better off than others. Ah... there's the rub. There is No Better Off. We are all broken and there is No Way to fix ourselves. Think about it... Jesus didn't come here to fix the one's who weren't broken. He came here to heal the sick, the impure, the desperate, the lonely, the fallen, the broken. He didn't even talk to those people who thought they were doing just fine, thanks. Those people, the one's who thought they were fixed, were just blind to their own nature. You can't be put back together again if you're not willing to see that you're broken in the first place. Paul called himself the Worst Of All Sinners. He embraced his brokenness. He understood what power it gave him, what true vision of the world.
I've realized that from my lofty heights as one of the unbroken I was seeing the world as a place that I could fix or try to help. This was the LOG in my eye. It made me blind to my own shortcomings. Even as I went to Kenya, I think I went there with the idea that I was going to help them. I didn't know how or what I'd do, but I was certain that God was sending me there to help those people in their brokenness. They were poor, destitute, miserable, etc... Except that I was completely 100% wrong. Their living conditions were poor, destitute, miserable to be certain. But the people were anything but. They were joyful and full of God's love. They weren't any more or less broken than anyone else, but they understood that and embraced it and embraced God because of it. I went there to help them, but instead I found myself being helped. It was I who was transformed. Them... not so much.
My vision of the world and of my place in it has changed dramatically. I am broken. I am unable to do anything without God's help. I can kid myself into thinking otherwise, but there is no point in arguing it. I have accomplished nothing that God did not want me to accomplish. And I have failed to accomplish much that He wished I had. Now that I finally see the log in my eye, perhaps I will accomplish more in the future - God-willing.
I'm sure that in the future I will speak to this more. My communication skills aren't up to the task of trying to convey the depth of thought and feeling that I've been experiencing lately. Its far better to just keep my mouth shut and my fingers silent and just enjoy the truth for what it is than to try to convey that truth and failing miserably. Someday I hope you'll all reach the point of your journey where you encounter this same truth. It's not far ahead, just a little higher up the mountain. Keep climbing.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Out of the Loop
Sorry. Been basically MIA for about three weeks now. I'm back and will post more regularly in 2011.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Embarkation
I left this morning for a new kingdom. It is the same journey I take every day. And though I never come back to the same place I began, I find that I get no closer to my final destination either. I am starting to suspect that the journey is, in fact, the destination.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Kenya believe there's more?
Kenya say this play on words is getting old? I knew you could... ;)
I'd like to continue repeating some of the stories that I heard from Merci Chidi in Kenya about the foundation of Ripples International - her organization which was started with a desire to help those suffering from AIDS. Some of what I'm about to repeat is speculation and some is from remembered conversations from almost a year ago. So if there are any mistakes in facts, they are all mine.
After getting Ripples underway by concentrating on building an organization that helped people get free testing for AIDS and then help and support for those with AIDS (with generous help from USAID and other organizations) Merci became aware of a growing need for a infant rescue center for abandoned babies. Not having funding for this project, she decided to do what so many others have done - she decided to sell stuff on the internet. Her idea was to make crafts in Kenya and send them to America where someone would sell them on the internet. All proceeds would go to the Infant New Start Center. She did some research and found a connection in Minnesota (I believe). Since she was flying to the US to report to USAID anyway, she decided to take a detour to Minnesota to make sure that this internet company was on the up and up.
As she flew, she met a lady who was from Wisconsin and who was intrigued by the work she was doing. She told Merci that if she was ever in the Racine area, to come look her and her church up. Merci arrived in Minnesota and went to visit the internet store and discovered that it was just a fly by night operation. The owner, who was completely gracious, told her that he doubted her plan would work. She was now stuck in Minnesota with a few days to kill before heading to Washington, so she decided to call this lady she'd met on the plane. Well, one thing led to another, and before she knew it this woman's husband was her biggest donor (and owner of several TV stations in the Wisconsin market). She'd gone to Minnesota to land a small internet company and she ended up with her biggest donor in Wisconsin (where the Board of Directors are now located, by the way).
The following year, as Merci was preparing to head to the US for more discussions with her various partners, she was confronted by her staff. They had been noticing that a lot of young women were coming in for AIDS screenings after having been victims of rape and incest. Not only was this heartbreaking to her staff and Merci, but it was felt that they ought to do something about it. Merci, however, knew that there was no money in the budget for such a project, so she informed her staff to collect the documentation and to pray for some divine help.
When she got to the US, she discovered that her Wisconsin donor's wife had prepared for Merci to give a talk about her organization to some influential politicians and their wives. Right before the meeting, Merci's staff sent her all the documentation they had accumulated about the young girls. Merci was rather upset by the documents and prayed to God for some help. She doesn't remember the talk going all that well because she was distracted by thoughts of the other thing.
The next day, as she was sitting in the hotel's restaurant having breakfast, this middle aged woman walked up to her and introduced herself saying that she had been at the talk the day before and that she wanted to help. Then she handed Merci an envelope and walked away. Merci, thinking the envelope to contain some sort of small donation, finished her breakfast and then got ready to leave for the day. At a stopping point, she decided to open the envelope.
It was a check for $20,000 US Dollars - more than enough to start a program for young raped and abused women. Merci thanked God for His intervention and then called the woman to thank her and tell her what the money was going to be used for.
When she was done speaking, there was silence on the other end. For a second, Merci thought she had somehow offended the woman, thinking that perhaps this woman wanted the money to go to AIDS care or something. But then she heard the woman on the other end sobbing.
This woman had been a victim of rape and incest when she was a child. She had never told anyone and had lived with the stigma all these years, just having confronted it within the last year. She had been looking for someway to reach out to other people who had been injured and, after having prayed to God, she heard Merci talk and decided to give money to help in Kenya. She was so overcome with emotion, the woman told Merci to start up the project and send her all the bills - she would pay for everything.
I can honestly tell you that after hearing stories like this from Merci and many others in Kenya, I knew that God was not only actively at work there, but that people's reliance on Him in their lives was making profound impacts. If there had been any lingering doubt in the reality of God before going to Kenya, they were gone by the time I left. And what I especially found to be profound in its impact was the matter-of-fact nature of God's working in people's lives. These people acted and spoke as if God was just around the corner - not some far off and nebulous cosmic figure that you had to struggle to think existed. His existence and intervention in people's lives was taken for granted - not something that had to be proven to anyone. I struggle for such a connection to God - though my connection to Him has been greatly bolstered.
Tomorrow, come back for a big announcement!
I'd like to continue repeating some of the stories that I heard from Merci Chidi in Kenya about the foundation of Ripples International - her organization which was started with a desire to help those suffering from AIDS. Some of what I'm about to repeat is speculation and some is from remembered conversations from almost a year ago. So if there are any mistakes in facts, they are all mine.
After getting Ripples underway by concentrating on building an organization that helped people get free testing for AIDS and then help and support for those with AIDS (with generous help from USAID and other organizations) Merci became aware of a growing need for a infant rescue center for abandoned babies. Not having funding for this project, she decided to do what so many others have done - she decided to sell stuff on the internet. Her idea was to make crafts in Kenya and send them to America where someone would sell them on the internet. All proceeds would go to the Infant New Start Center. She did some research and found a connection in Minnesota (I believe). Since she was flying to the US to report to USAID anyway, she decided to take a detour to Minnesota to make sure that this internet company was on the up and up.
As she flew, she met a lady who was from Wisconsin and who was intrigued by the work she was doing. She told Merci that if she was ever in the Racine area, to come look her and her church up. Merci arrived in Minnesota and went to visit the internet store and discovered that it was just a fly by night operation. The owner, who was completely gracious, told her that he doubted her plan would work. She was now stuck in Minnesota with a few days to kill before heading to Washington, so she decided to call this lady she'd met on the plane. Well, one thing led to another, and before she knew it this woman's husband was her biggest donor (and owner of several TV stations in the Wisconsin market). She'd gone to Minnesota to land a small internet company and she ended up with her biggest donor in Wisconsin (where the Board of Directors are now located, by the way).
The following year, as Merci was preparing to head to the US for more discussions with her various partners, she was confronted by her staff. They had been noticing that a lot of young women were coming in for AIDS screenings after having been victims of rape and incest. Not only was this heartbreaking to her staff and Merci, but it was felt that they ought to do something about it. Merci, however, knew that there was no money in the budget for such a project, so she informed her staff to collect the documentation and to pray for some divine help.
When she got to the US, she discovered that her Wisconsin donor's wife had prepared for Merci to give a talk about her organization to some influential politicians and their wives. Right before the meeting, Merci's staff sent her all the documentation they had accumulated about the young girls. Merci was rather upset by the documents and prayed to God for some help. She doesn't remember the talk going all that well because she was distracted by thoughts of the other thing.
The next day, as she was sitting in the hotel's restaurant having breakfast, this middle aged woman walked up to her and introduced herself saying that she had been at the talk the day before and that she wanted to help. Then she handed Merci an envelope and walked away. Merci, thinking the envelope to contain some sort of small donation, finished her breakfast and then got ready to leave for the day. At a stopping point, she decided to open the envelope.
It was a check for $20,000 US Dollars - more than enough to start a program for young raped and abused women. Merci thanked God for His intervention and then called the woman to thank her and tell her what the money was going to be used for.
When she was done speaking, there was silence on the other end. For a second, Merci thought she had somehow offended the woman, thinking that perhaps this woman wanted the money to go to AIDS care or something. But then she heard the woman on the other end sobbing.
This woman had been a victim of rape and incest when she was a child. She had never told anyone and had lived with the stigma all these years, just having confronted it within the last year. She had been looking for someway to reach out to other people who had been injured and, after having prayed to God, she heard Merci talk and decided to give money to help in Kenya. She was so overcome with emotion, the woman told Merci to start up the project and send her all the bills - she would pay for everything.
I can honestly tell you that after hearing stories like this from Merci and many others in Kenya, I knew that God was not only actively at work there, but that people's reliance on Him in their lives was making profound impacts. If there had been any lingering doubt in the reality of God before going to Kenya, they were gone by the time I left. And what I especially found to be profound in its impact was the matter-of-fact nature of God's working in people's lives. These people acted and spoke as if God was just around the corner - not some far off and nebulous cosmic figure that you had to struggle to think existed. His existence and intervention in people's lives was taken for granted - not something that had to be proven to anyone. I struggle for such a connection to God - though my connection to Him has been greatly bolstered.
Tomorrow, come back for a big announcement!
Monday, November 15, 2010
Kenya say Inspirational?
I knew you could...
This weekend, we were visited by one of our Kenya partners, Mercy Chidi, who is in North America for a conference and also to visit her charities various sponsors - including Lakeside. On Sunday, at church, she shared the following story. Any mistakes in the retelling are due to my faulty memory...
After growing up in Isiolo (a town about an hour north of Meru), Mercy went to University in Nairobi. After graduating from University with a degree in Social Work, she took a job in Nairobi, got married, settled down and had kids. She was living a very normal life. But then, one day, everything changed.
Her best friend was dying from HIV/AIDS. For months on end, she would spend every weekend driving from Nairobi to Isiolo (about 8 hours) to tend to her friends health. At the time (about ten years ago) there was a huge stigma against AIDS. If you had it or were dying from it, you told no one. So Mercy was her only friend that even knew she was dying. She tended to her care as best she could, but, of course, AIDS is still a death sentence. When she died, the stigma was so strong, her friend's parents simply told their daughter's friends and community that she had emigrated to the United States rather than admit that she had died of AIDS. Mercy was heartbroken at the loss of her friend.
She turned to God in prayer and asked for some guidance because she saw how many children were affected by AIDS in Isiolo and Meru and she wanted to do something about it - maybe something to do with prevention or education. God told her to move back to Isiolo. To do so, she would have to uproot her family, quit her job, and force her husband to leave his well-paying UN job. But God told her what to do, so she did it. She moved her family to Isiolo and began to work with AIDS education and treatment.
The organization she created from scratch at the behest of God now serves over 12,000 children and just recently opened the first Pediatric hospital in all of central Kenya.
I can tell more inspirational stories... and I will... but the real inspirational part of this story was how normal and human and Christian this woman is. She laments the fact that because her organization has grown so big, she can no longer go to the local hospital and visit the children in the Children's Ward. She was telling us about confronting the heirarchy in her church by being seen with a known drinker at a bar who had been so excited by Christ until the church had discovered her secret and rejected her. Every time I get a chance to spend time with her, I come away even more inspired than I was before.
More to come tomorrow...
This weekend, we were visited by one of our Kenya partners, Mercy Chidi, who is in North America for a conference and also to visit her charities various sponsors - including Lakeside. On Sunday, at church, she shared the following story. Any mistakes in the retelling are due to my faulty memory...
After growing up in Isiolo (a town about an hour north of Meru), Mercy went to University in Nairobi. After graduating from University with a degree in Social Work, she took a job in Nairobi, got married, settled down and had kids. She was living a very normal life. But then, one day, everything changed.
Her best friend was dying from HIV/AIDS. For months on end, she would spend every weekend driving from Nairobi to Isiolo (about 8 hours) to tend to her friends health. At the time (about ten years ago) there was a huge stigma against AIDS. If you had it or were dying from it, you told no one. So Mercy was her only friend that even knew she was dying. She tended to her care as best she could, but, of course, AIDS is still a death sentence. When she died, the stigma was so strong, her friend's parents simply told their daughter's friends and community that she had emigrated to the United States rather than admit that she had died of AIDS. Mercy was heartbroken at the loss of her friend.
She turned to God in prayer and asked for some guidance because she saw how many children were affected by AIDS in Isiolo and Meru and she wanted to do something about it - maybe something to do with prevention or education. God told her to move back to Isiolo. To do so, she would have to uproot her family, quit her job, and force her husband to leave his well-paying UN job. But God told her what to do, so she did it. She moved her family to Isiolo and began to work with AIDS education and treatment.
The organization she created from scratch at the behest of God now serves over 12,000 children and just recently opened the first Pediatric hospital in all of central Kenya.
I can tell more inspirational stories... and I will... but the real inspirational part of this story was how normal and human and Christian this woman is. She laments the fact that because her organization has grown so big, she can no longer go to the local hospital and visit the children in the Children's Ward. She was telling us about confronting the heirarchy in her church by being seen with a known drinker at a bar who had been so excited by Christ until the church had discovered her secret and rejected her. Every time I get a chance to spend time with her, I come away even more inspired than I was before.
More to come tomorrow...
Thursday, November 04, 2010
The More Things Change...
Nope. Not gonna comment on the Election. Or the World Series. Just not going to happen.
Instead, I want to talk about my new blog, The More Things Change, and invite you all to jump aboard now. This is going to be a daily serial (or as near a daily serial as I can manage with my busy schedule) that I've been hemming and hawing over for a while now. Mostly, I just miss writing a cliff-hangerish kind of story that's fun and silly and non-thought provoking.
At it's heart is a story of one nuclear family, and particularly it's protagonist and narrator, Taylor, who has a twin sister named Jess. As is typical of any TAC story, there is nothing typical about Taylor or his family - as he's about to find out. Beyond that, I don't know where the story will go. I have ideas. I'll take them as I come to them. Short, sweet, cliff-hangerish episodes. I hope you'll come along for the ride.
Here's the link... I hope...
Instead, I want to talk about my new blog, The More Things Change, and invite you all to jump aboard now. This is going to be a daily serial (or as near a daily serial as I can manage with my busy schedule) that I've been hemming and hawing over for a while now. Mostly, I just miss writing a cliff-hangerish kind of story that's fun and silly and non-thought provoking.
At it's heart is a story of one nuclear family, and particularly it's protagonist and narrator, Taylor, who has a twin sister named Jess. As is typical of any TAC story, there is nothing typical about Taylor or his family - as he's about to find out. Beyond that, I don't know where the story will go. I have ideas. I'll take them as I come to them. Short, sweet, cliff-hangerish episodes. I hope you'll come along for the ride.
Here's the link... I hope...
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
From ECBN - East Coast Bias News
11/02/10
Boy, the Texas Rangers really have their work cut out for them now. Down 4-1 in the best of seven series, they not only have to win the last two, but convince the commissioner that the first game shouldn't count. However, as these Texas Rangers beat the Yankees, anything is possible for them.
Last night, once again, the Texas Rangers defeated themselves with a lack of hitting and above the fence defense. They didn't exercise plate control, swinging at pitches that they clearly couldn't hit, and not swinging at ones that they probably could have hit had they just swung. Also, on one particular play where the wind aided a pop-up by Edgar Renteria to clear the fences, they were not in a position to leap above the fence and catch the ball. However, these slight mental errors by the Texas Rangers are mere aberrations on what will otherwise be a glorious comeback for their first ever World Series win over that other team.
Any other outcome is inconceivable.
Boy, the Texas Rangers really have their work cut out for them now. Down 4-1 in the best of seven series, they not only have to win the last two, but convince the commissioner that the first game shouldn't count. However, as these Texas Rangers beat the Yankees, anything is possible for them.
Last night, once again, the Texas Rangers defeated themselves with a lack of hitting and above the fence defense. They didn't exercise plate control, swinging at pitches that they clearly couldn't hit, and not swinging at ones that they probably could have hit had they just swung. Also, on one particular play where the wind aided a pop-up by Edgar Renteria to clear the fences, they were not in a position to leap above the fence and catch the ball. However, these slight mental errors by the Texas Rangers are mere aberrations on what will otherwise be a glorious comeback for their first ever World Series win over that other team.
Any other outcome is inconceivable.
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Milquetoast Job - A Tale of Two Legs
I love the story of Job because its a story that continues to play out day after day, year after year for all eternity. But I was really thinking about how much my life resembles this story of a guy who had it all but then had tragedy strike him and all the time that he is suffering, his friends continue to offer him advice. Only my version is decidedly less than earth shaking in its impact.
When I returned from Kenya, full of vim and vigor, I was ready to go out and conquer the world. This time I was really going to make a difference - hike, walk, whatever it took to lose weight. I even made plans to run the Bay to Breakers. I had a plan. I started to walk. I was ready to shed those pounds.
Three weeks later, my knee hurting a little from all the walking I'd been doing, I started on a particularly long and hard hike, figuring that I would "walk off" that nagging pain and feel better after the fact. I did walk off the pain, only to have it return as a crippling pain later in the hike. By the time I got home that night, I was in real pain and could barely walk.
Two days later, I went to the Emergency Room because I was in severe agony. No amount of icing or ibuprofen was helping. The Emergency Room doctor jabbed my knee with a needle to lessen the swelling (it didn't, but that's neither here nor there) and then took me aside. "You know," he said cooly, "You really ought to lose some weight. That's why you're having knee problems." Sitting on my ash heap at the time, I calmly explained that I'd just finished hiking eight miles on a bum knee to try doing exactly that. "I'm just saying," the doctor added.
Eventually, I got my knee swelling down though I continued to hobble. All the time I was metaphorically kicking myself for damaging my knee. As soon as I felt myself return to 98% of recovered, I hobbled out and started walking again. Bang! Out went the other knee.
As I now hobbled on the other knee, friends and family members continued to offer constructive advice, "You should take it easy. You keep damaging yourself. Let your legs heal, first." So I did. I let my legs heal. Long after they were healed, I had a relapse - and I hadn't been exercising at all. Then I healed my relapse, let my long period of sitting go on even longer, then started walking again - slowly. Hobbling. Eventually, after several weeks, I was actually able to hobble about a mile.
I drove to Vegas. No problems. I wandered up and down the Vegas Strip. No problems. I drove back home. No problems. YET, I still did not consider myself healed.
Finally, after a couple more weeks of walking normally, including one week where I walked more than I had since returning from Kenya, I finally made plans to go for another hike.
Then I twisted my ankle. Everyone saw me hobbling again and assumed it my knee - assumed that I had reinjured it. I explained that it was my ankle - a temporary setback. I hobbled for most of the last two weeks - taking it easy.
Yesterday, I threw caution to the wind for a good cause. I walked a little over five miles in a rain storm to raise money for Crop Walk. My legs, though stiff, did not fail. My ankle felt fine. I did develop a shin splint, but those go away relatively quickly (in fact, I can't even feel it now). I walked further than I'd walked since that day I blew out of my knee.
And when I reported the news to my Dad, he said, "See... all you needed was a little exercise."
I love the absurdity of this whole situation and try not to assign any cosmic significance to it other than the things that I thought before I started the whole process - I'm getting older and I need to lose some weight. The commentary has been, without a doubt, the most enjoyable part of it - like a Greek Chorus that is lagging behind the narrative by about three acts. I think when it comes to our health, human beings are at our most hypocritical. We ignore our own aches and pains while at the same time diagnosing dire ailments for anyone who dares to mention, or who is unable to hide, their own infirmities. I'm frankly surprised we don't have more hypochondriacs out there. It is, of course, the physical manifestation of the parable of the man trying to remove the splinter in his friend's eye while he has a log in his own eye. It is rather remarkable how the more the world changes, the more human beings remain the same.
As a final addendum to this lengthy discourse, I'm planning to hike again this Saturday - assuming I can make it through the week without something else falling off. My goal of losing weight, though many times thwarted, has never changed.
When I returned from Kenya, full of vim and vigor, I was ready to go out and conquer the world. This time I was really going to make a difference - hike, walk, whatever it took to lose weight. I even made plans to run the Bay to Breakers. I had a plan. I started to walk. I was ready to shed those pounds.
Three weeks later, my knee hurting a little from all the walking I'd been doing, I started on a particularly long and hard hike, figuring that I would "walk off" that nagging pain and feel better after the fact. I did walk off the pain, only to have it return as a crippling pain later in the hike. By the time I got home that night, I was in real pain and could barely walk.
Two days later, I went to the Emergency Room because I was in severe agony. No amount of icing or ibuprofen was helping. The Emergency Room doctor jabbed my knee with a needle to lessen the swelling (it didn't, but that's neither here nor there) and then took me aside. "You know," he said cooly, "You really ought to lose some weight. That's why you're having knee problems." Sitting on my ash heap at the time, I calmly explained that I'd just finished hiking eight miles on a bum knee to try doing exactly that. "I'm just saying," the doctor added.
Eventually, I got my knee swelling down though I continued to hobble. All the time I was metaphorically kicking myself for damaging my knee. As soon as I felt myself return to 98% of recovered, I hobbled out and started walking again. Bang! Out went the other knee.
As I now hobbled on the other knee, friends and family members continued to offer constructive advice, "You should take it easy. You keep damaging yourself. Let your legs heal, first." So I did. I let my legs heal. Long after they were healed, I had a relapse - and I hadn't been exercising at all. Then I healed my relapse, let my long period of sitting go on even longer, then started walking again - slowly. Hobbling. Eventually, after several weeks, I was actually able to hobble about a mile.
I drove to Vegas. No problems. I wandered up and down the Vegas Strip. No problems. I drove back home. No problems. YET, I still did not consider myself healed.
Finally, after a couple more weeks of walking normally, including one week where I walked more than I had since returning from Kenya, I finally made plans to go for another hike.
Then I twisted my ankle. Everyone saw me hobbling again and assumed it my knee - assumed that I had reinjured it. I explained that it was my ankle - a temporary setback. I hobbled for most of the last two weeks - taking it easy.
Yesterday, I threw caution to the wind for a good cause. I walked a little over five miles in a rain storm to raise money for Crop Walk. My legs, though stiff, did not fail. My ankle felt fine. I did develop a shin splint, but those go away relatively quickly (in fact, I can't even feel it now). I walked further than I'd walked since that day I blew out of my knee.
And when I reported the news to my Dad, he said, "See... all you needed was a little exercise."
I love the absurdity of this whole situation and try not to assign any cosmic significance to it other than the things that I thought before I started the whole process - I'm getting older and I need to lose some weight. The commentary has been, without a doubt, the most enjoyable part of it - like a Greek Chorus that is lagging behind the narrative by about three acts. I think when it comes to our health, human beings are at our most hypocritical. We ignore our own aches and pains while at the same time diagnosing dire ailments for anyone who dares to mention, or who is unable to hide, their own infirmities. I'm frankly surprised we don't have more hypochondriacs out there. It is, of course, the physical manifestation of the parable of the man trying to remove the splinter in his friend's eye while he has a log in his own eye. It is rather remarkable how the more the world changes, the more human beings remain the same.
As a final addendum to this lengthy discourse, I'm planning to hike again this Saturday - assuming I can make it through the week without something else falling off. My goal of losing weight, though many times thwarted, has never changed.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Choke on the bile of Free Speech
A little background: My sister was quoted in an article on the down-turned economy. She is a lawyer who has been laid off due to the lack of law work out there. As she was just getting her feet underneath her as a lawyer, the timing was rather unfortunate. Anyway, this article was posted at a reputable newspaper site and has since become a magnet for the kinds of vicious and scathing comments that are reprinted below.
The most recent iteration of these comments came when a Blog for Temp Law Clerks reprinted the article. I read the comments and was really incensed. I wanted to complain and followed the link on the blog that said, "Report this blog."
Apparently, these comments are not regulated at all on the internet. In trying to make a complaint to Blogger, I received a message that basically said - We aren't liable, so we don't care.
I'd probably be mistaken to say that any air of civility this country once had has been completely eroded - I'm not entirely sure we ever had civility to begin with. Maybe we were just better hiding our lack of it in the pre-internet age. One thing I am certain of, these sorts of comments, left festering for all time on the internet for anyone to read, are destroying any chance of civil discourse. If someone can say some of these things without any worry of repurcussions, then why should any sort of commentary be banned? Why can't I say the N word? Or the F word? Or tell people what I think in the foulest, basest dialog imaginable?
Of course, I won't use that language - not because I can't, but because I was taught better. And that's my point. What are we teaching future generations if we won't clean up our commentary now? If any sort of commentary is allowed now, then what sort of restrictions on commentary will be followed in the future? The one undeniable fact of history is that the pendulum swings both ways. If we are allowed to say whatever we feel like now and we push the envelope far to the left, then eventually that pendulum will swing back the other way and our freedoms will be willfully repressed in the other direction - (Think 1950's to 1960's as a comparison). We need to address this now before it gets out of control.
Here is an example of the stuff people are saying: Keep in mind that this comes from a blog for Lawyers (those eloquent speakers and maintainers of civility and law).
- She looks like a slob. She looks like the perfect candidate for S&C.
- 10:33 PM
- Anonymous said...
- True dat 10:33. At least lay off the potatoe chips and go running or something.
- 10:44 PM
- Anonymous said...
- Not as uncommon as you may think. I know several succesful female attorneys (some fairly attractive) who support lazy, stay at home freeloading man bitches. If only I could find a succesful woman to support me. To hell with pride.
- 10:52 PM
- She's got the right look for a gestapo type staff attorney.
- 11:13 PM
- Anonymous said...
- She would fit right in with the middle-aged staff attorney cows like Lucy Cow and sloppy Big Mamma.
- 11:17 PM
- Anonymous said...
- Agree. Just what biglaw looks for in a staff attorney. Ugly, fat, and trapped in the position for monetary reasons. All she needs is the nasty, sadistic attitude.
- Anonymous said...
- I too have a hard time believing the the fat, dopey looking white broad actually made $100K in law. Not attractive enough. And men, with cunty women & their homo allies taking your jobs, their is no shame in being a daddy day care on their dime. Its about time they do the lifting. Its what they get when the get what they hoped for.....the total emasculation & N-wordization of the straight male.
- Anonymous said...
- I do not mock..I simply state truths in the real world. It is very unlikely that the subject woman was making $100K in any real law substantive job. But I will grant you that she may have done so in doc review in San Fran where labor laws are more strictly enforced. They make them pay good OT over there unlike in NYC. Perhaps she was a staff attorney. Whatver the case may be, she, and most other legal lemmings are now toast. I will say that I do think that such folk who are in such blatantly tenous and bullshit 'professions' such as law, are being foolishly irresponsible when they pork up kids on purpose or by mistake. Many lawyers have no healthcare or benefits & can't hold a job regardless of whether its their fault or the game's fault. How they could be so stupid as to put innocent children into the equasion is beyond me. The moral of the story is is that such a woman should have been able to take a gander at the mirror and known that she was not cut out for law.
- 1:29 PM
- Anonymous said...
- Everyone keep your hands off Big Mamma's cookies!
- 1:44 PM
- Anonymous said...
- To the dingbat who posted at 1;45....The poster above who states "that's what you get for going to a tier III school" knows the deal. She went to Golden Gate. Most likely not much 'intellect' or great chance of a late life blossoming there. I would take you up on your bet. She is toast. I would be shocked if she went to anything cornell. She appears to have gone to Hormell & eaten too much spam. Why were you so shocked by the fat folk you saw at Cravath? Why so 'horrified'? Because you, like most of law made a scathing judgment. Your profile of me is weak at best. I have been on the fringes of biglaw but am mostly a TT toileteer. Big gap between LS & UG. No hep from me folks ever. Not in HS, UG or LS. I am a guy and clearly you are just another PC, lala land living in, head in the sand dingbat broad. If she had the kids before law school then she is just another victim of the TTT law school scam. She got taken. If the kids came while in or after law scam the she is an irresponsible, deluded & possibly arrongant fool.
- Anonymous said...
- Wow.That last post was deep. Very much confirmation of the la la land dreamworld mentality that many a dumb biotch displays. 'Broad' was my attempt at politeness. Dumb biotch is definitely way more appropriate. Ratings are established by our vile, evil, classist & racist overlords to discriminate and marginalize those who are not they. Ratings...from the LSAT on greatly affect most non elite folks' lives & career. They most often preclude la di da surprises from happpening for the regular joe or decent folk in general. I would love to be as priviledged as you to have smoked whatever Alice in wonderland bullshit that you smoked. Let me know when your'e coming back to visit the real world.
- Anonymous said...
- $100K? MAybe! Fat and unattractive people have a tendency to be the worst supervisors. Hell mgnt loves them. They can be the evil twin of the boss. They do all his shit. But, KARMA works. They are the first shit canned and the cute ones are kept in the end.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Lies We Swallow
We're told lies by our government and by Wall Street all the time and all we can do is shrug our shoulders and hope that someone will come along and change things. But it doesn't help when people will actually defend these lies as truth. I want to put two of these lies to rest right now.
During the gas price surge from the late 1990's all the way until the collapse of markets in 2008, the big lie from the oil companies was that there was always a reason for the gas prices to rise. Prior to the late 1990's there was a natural ebb and flow to gas prices, but, in general, they remained pretty stable - fluctuating, on average, about 25 to 50 cents a year. Starting in the late 1990's however, whenever the price inched upwards, it never came back down. Once gas crested $3.00 a gallon, the public started to take notice, and that was when the lying began. We were given every excuse under the sun - oil refinery fires, hurricanes, solar activity, war, famine, you name it. If something bad happened somewhere, it was a cause for gas prices to rise. Though I'm no economist, it was obvious that the people raising gas prices were looking for any excuse to justify their greed.
When the whole economy came crashing down shortly after gas prices reached $4.50 a a gallon, gas prices fell dramatically - and then rebounded slightly until they reached the $3.00 a gallon (CA price) average that they've been at since 2008. Two years... no huge increases despite dozens of natural disasters, oil refinery fires, etc... All of those things that previously caused the price of gas to jump 25 cents in one day suddenly have no effect on the price of gasoline - thus refuting, once and for all, that these things had any effect on gas prices in the past.
In much the same way, I think we can look at the incredible bonuses paid on Wall Street (a record amount this year) and really quell anymore talk of Trickle Down Economics. Again, I'm no economist, but it seems that the more money paid to Wall Street execs, the less money there has been on Main Street. There is no such thing as trickle down economics. It's a complete BS economic theory. So anyone still spouting off about giving more money to the rich so that that money can then stimulate the economy for the poor should just have their heads examined.
Now, I'm not talking about tax breaks for companies to hire employees or help for small businesses to pay health care costs or things of that nature. I'm talking about some whacked notion that we should give tax breaks to the wealthiest few because, somehow, the money saved by these few people will then trickle down to the rest of us in the form of jobs and other subsidies. It's just not going to happen. It never has. And it never will.
Historically, empires have sprung out of countries that recognized the wealth that came from the Middle Class (Don't believe me? Then ask yourself how the Dutch became a world power). It's not all that hard to understand why. If you put wealth into the hands of the wealthy few, they will defend it and not let it out of their sight. But the middle class aren't as controlling. They will spend most of that money to maintain their lifestyle and what they don't spend they can be enticed into giving back to the government in the form of taxes and fees to pay for the things that everyone needs (like roads and clean water). All fiscal policy should be set to increase the middle class and control the excesses of the rich. That's just good economic policy. Trickle Down Economics is not only a lie, but its bad economic policy.
Okay, enough real world stuff now... back to fantasy... have a good day!
During the gas price surge from the late 1990's all the way until the collapse of markets in 2008, the big lie from the oil companies was that there was always a reason for the gas prices to rise. Prior to the late 1990's there was a natural ebb and flow to gas prices, but, in general, they remained pretty stable - fluctuating, on average, about 25 to 50 cents a year. Starting in the late 1990's however, whenever the price inched upwards, it never came back down. Once gas crested $3.00 a gallon, the public started to take notice, and that was when the lying began. We were given every excuse under the sun - oil refinery fires, hurricanes, solar activity, war, famine, you name it. If something bad happened somewhere, it was a cause for gas prices to rise. Though I'm no economist, it was obvious that the people raising gas prices were looking for any excuse to justify their greed.
When the whole economy came crashing down shortly after gas prices reached $4.50 a a gallon, gas prices fell dramatically - and then rebounded slightly until they reached the $3.00 a gallon (CA price) average that they've been at since 2008. Two years... no huge increases despite dozens of natural disasters, oil refinery fires, etc... All of those things that previously caused the price of gas to jump 25 cents in one day suddenly have no effect on the price of gasoline - thus refuting, once and for all, that these things had any effect on gas prices in the past.
In much the same way, I think we can look at the incredible bonuses paid on Wall Street (a record amount this year) and really quell anymore talk of Trickle Down Economics. Again, I'm no economist, but it seems that the more money paid to Wall Street execs, the less money there has been on Main Street. There is no such thing as trickle down economics. It's a complete BS economic theory. So anyone still spouting off about giving more money to the rich so that that money can then stimulate the economy for the poor should just have their heads examined.
Now, I'm not talking about tax breaks for companies to hire employees or help for small businesses to pay health care costs or things of that nature. I'm talking about some whacked notion that we should give tax breaks to the wealthiest few because, somehow, the money saved by these few people will then trickle down to the rest of us in the form of jobs and other subsidies. It's just not going to happen. It never has. And it never will.
Historically, empires have sprung out of countries that recognized the wealth that came from the Middle Class (Don't believe me? Then ask yourself how the Dutch became a world power). It's not all that hard to understand why. If you put wealth into the hands of the wealthy few, they will defend it and not let it out of their sight. But the middle class aren't as controlling. They will spend most of that money to maintain their lifestyle and what they don't spend they can be enticed into giving back to the government in the form of taxes and fees to pay for the things that everyone needs (like roads and clean water). All fiscal policy should be set to increase the middle class and control the excesses of the rich. That's just good economic policy. Trickle Down Economics is not only a lie, but its bad economic policy.
Okay, enough real world stuff now... back to fantasy... have a good day!
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Missed opportunities...
Our society seems so intent on punishing wrong doers that we sometimes mistake the forest for the trees and miss opportunities to correct problems before they occur.
I read with sadness the story of the young man who chose suicide after being cyber bullied at Rutgers recently. This young man was so clearly distraught about the bullying behavior of others that he chose to jump from the George Washington Bridge to his death.
Since then, others have come forward with other stories of cyberbullying and other forms of bullying that have caused young people to do horrible things - suicide, etc... While it is sad to hear of such behavior, it is nothing new. Technology might have made it more widespread (to those who care to look for those things), but the anti-social attitudes represented by bullying teens are well-documented and rarely punished.
Had we Americans reacted to stop bullying after its most shocking incident, we might not have been in this situation right now. But we didn't. Instead, we looked upon the two young men who were bullied and villified them for their reactions to their incessant hazing (and rightfully so) without also addressing the people who bullied them.
I'm talking, of course, about Columbine. Lost in all the discussion about the evil actions of two disgruntled teenagers was the fact that these kids had been hazed and bullied by many of the people on their "hit" list. Instead of going to the nearest bridge and leaping to their deaths and a tragic suicide, they reacted to their bullying by buying guns, making bombs, and going after the people who had bullied them and a community of students that had done nothing to prevent the bullying from occurring.
I'm not justifying their reactions - far from it. I think they were completely wrong and totally evil in what they did. But I can also see how in their own eyes, they were justified in their response.
Some people who are bullied simply take it. They are miserable and depressed, but they don't fight back. Some people complain and are usually ignored or given the old, "boys will be boys" speech. But a few others fight back and stand up for themselves and for others who have been bullied. The longer and harder they were bullied, the more vicious the response can be.
In Jr. High, I was bullied (who wasn't really?) My response, most of the time, was to try and ignore it. But one time, the bullies crossed the line. The squirted mustard in my Dad's baseball glove. I walked over to where they were playing handball, waited patiently for the ball to come to me, and then I tossed the ball as far away as I could throw it. The bullies were ticked. They couldn't believe that I had fought back. They complained to the school dean. I told the dean what had happened and showed him the glove with the mustard in it and all he did was basically call it even. (Hardly...)
As a corollary to this, a friend of mine was also a frequent target of bullies. One day after school he came up to me and told me that he had gotten even. What I didn't know was that he had beaten a boy so severely that he had ended up in the hospital. Since it had been a mutual fight (though one sided) the only action taken was that my friend was suspended from school. But this was a much more severe response to bullying.
I am happy that people are finally talking about bullying. With the internet, such behavior can now have very serious and real world long term effects and so perhaps it has become time to end this type of behavior for all time. But it seems to me that with bullying as the main cause behind the most horrific school shooting ever, we probably should have looked at the real world consequences of such behavior back then. Either way, bullying should end now and its up to the parents and teachers to see that this kind of behavior becomes a thing of the past.
I read with sadness the story of the young man who chose suicide after being cyber bullied at Rutgers recently. This young man was so clearly distraught about the bullying behavior of others that he chose to jump from the George Washington Bridge to his death.
Since then, others have come forward with other stories of cyberbullying and other forms of bullying that have caused young people to do horrible things - suicide, etc... While it is sad to hear of such behavior, it is nothing new. Technology might have made it more widespread (to those who care to look for those things), but the anti-social attitudes represented by bullying teens are well-documented and rarely punished.
Had we Americans reacted to stop bullying after its most shocking incident, we might not have been in this situation right now. But we didn't. Instead, we looked upon the two young men who were bullied and villified them for their reactions to their incessant hazing (and rightfully so) without also addressing the people who bullied them.
I'm talking, of course, about Columbine. Lost in all the discussion about the evil actions of two disgruntled teenagers was the fact that these kids had been hazed and bullied by many of the people on their "hit" list. Instead of going to the nearest bridge and leaping to their deaths and a tragic suicide, they reacted to their bullying by buying guns, making bombs, and going after the people who had bullied them and a community of students that had done nothing to prevent the bullying from occurring.
I'm not justifying their reactions - far from it. I think they were completely wrong and totally evil in what they did. But I can also see how in their own eyes, they were justified in their response.
Some people who are bullied simply take it. They are miserable and depressed, but they don't fight back. Some people complain and are usually ignored or given the old, "boys will be boys" speech. But a few others fight back and stand up for themselves and for others who have been bullied. The longer and harder they were bullied, the more vicious the response can be.
In Jr. High, I was bullied (who wasn't really?) My response, most of the time, was to try and ignore it. But one time, the bullies crossed the line. The squirted mustard in my Dad's baseball glove. I walked over to where they were playing handball, waited patiently for the ball to come to me, and then I tossed the ball as far away as I could throw it. The bullies were ticked. They couldn't believe that I had fought back. They complained to the school dean. I told the dean what had happened and showed him the glove with the mustard in it and all he did was basically call it even. (Hardly...)
As a corollary to this, a friend of mine was also a frequent target of bullies. One day after school he came up to me and told me that he had gotten even. What I didn't know was that he had beaten a boy so severely that he had ended up in the hospital. Since it had been a mutual fight (though one sided) the only action taken was that my friend was suspended from school. But this was a much more severe response to bullying.
I am happy that people are finally talking about bullying. With the internet, such behavior can now have very serious and real world long term effects and so perhaps it has become time to end this type of behavior for all time. But it seems to me that with bullying as the main cause behind the most horrific school shooting ever, we probably should have looked at the real world consequences of such behavior back then. Either way, bullying should end now and its up to the parents and teachers to see that this kind of behavior becomes a thing of the past.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Banned Books Week
I was reading with some interest the list of books that have been most likely to be banned. Harry Potter topped the list and the rest of the list included some pretty similar pop-cultural icons - hardly the sort of insidious cultural damage that I was expecting. Apparently, the types of books most people try to ban these days shows a clear lack of imagination on the part of the banning public. There are some truly horrid books out there that nobody is reading, much less banning. Our banning public needs to get out and read more.
I've read Harry Potter. It contains elements of witchcraft and dark magic. These things are warned about in the Bible as being bad. Apparently, the worry is that children reading these books, and being exposed to their teachings and glorifications of this lifestyle, would then become witches and warlocks as well - thus completely subverting Christianity and bringing about the end times (which are coming, no matter what, when we least expect it).
I'm currently reading a book from Oprah's book club called, "Say You're One Of Them" It is a collection of short stories by an African writer that, while fictional, are based on real-life horrors in Africa. The story I'm currently reading is about an uncle who agrees to sell his niece and nephew into the international sex trade in exchange for a new motorcycle. Hah, Magic and Witchcraft! Take that! I'll see your occult and raise you pedophilia and slavery! Can you imagine the outcry parents would have if their kids were asked to read this book in school? And yet, nobody is trying to ban this book.
I think it's clear that the people who wish to ban books are clearly not the best read people out there. If instead of fighting their ire by seriously considering their ill-formed requests, we simply agreed and replaced the Harry Potter books of the world with the Say You're One Of Them books of the world, I'm guessing that the banning public would demand Harry Potter back on the shelves and this nonsense would be over.
So next time you hear a parent ranting and raving about a particular book with bad words, inappropriate scenes, or some other mularkey, agree with them and suggest that the bookstore/library replace the offending book with a copy of Mein Kampf or some other such work. Quite frankly, it's about time we raised the literary level of our banned books.
I've read Harry Potter. It contains elements of witchcraft and dark magic. These things are warned about in the Bible as being bad. Apparently, the worry is that children reading these books, and being exposed to their teachings and glorifications of this lifestyle, would then become witches and warlocks as well - thus completely subverting Christianity and bringing about the end times (which are coming, no matter what, when we least expect it).
I'm currently reading a book from Oprah's book club called, "Say You're One Of Them" It is a collection of short stories by an African writer that, while fictional, are based on real-life horrors in Africa. The story I'm currently reading is about an uncle who agrees to sell his niece and nephew into the international sex trade in exchange for a new motorcycle. Hah, Magic and Witchcraft! Take that! I'll see your occult and raise you pedophilia and slavery! Can you imagine the outcry parents would have if their kids were asked to read this book in school? And yet, nobody is trying to ban this book.
I think it's clear that the people who wish to ban books are clearly not the best read people out there. If instead of fighting their ire by seriously considering their ill-formed requests, we simply agreed and replaced the Harry Potter books of the world with the Say You're One Of Them books of the world, I'm guessing that the banning public would demand Harry Potter back on the shelves and this nonsense would be over.
So next time you hear a parent ranting and raving about a particular book with bad words, inappropriate scenes, or some other mularkey, agree with them and suggest that the bookstore/library replace the offending book with a copy of Mein Kampf or some other such work. Quite frankly, it's about time we raised the literary level of our banned books.
Friday, September 24, 2010
The Heart of Admonishment
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump...
I was lying on my bed. It was hot. Was that the beating of the fan blades? Or a Huey come to take me back to 'Nam? Did it matter? I was still beached. And bored.
They came with an indecent proposal. Seems one of their own - a Colonel Lie - was missing somewhere in the jungle at a place approximately one mile from the beach. He hadn't been seen in months and nobody had heard from him either. They asked me to take a boat up there, to fight my way to him, and to bring him back.
Or, if I couldn't bring him back, I was to do something drastic... replace his lawn, perhaps. Co-coach T-Ball with him. I could only imagine the horror.
I guess some people really miss his homilies. Me? I'd rather sit here on this bed listening to the drone of my fan. Cause it's hot. And that's how I roll...
I was lying on my bed. It was hot. Was that the beating of the fan blades? Or a Huey come to take me back to 'Nam? Did it matter? I was still beached. And bored.
They came with an indecent proposal. Seems one of their own - a Colonel Lie - was missing somewhere in the jungle at a place approximately one mile from the beach. He hadn't been seen in months and nobody had heard from him either. They asked me to take a boat up there, to fight my way to him, and to bring him back.
Or, if I couldn't bring him back, I was to do something drastic... replace his lawn, perhaps. Co-coach T-Ball with him. I could only imagine the horror.
I guess some people really miss his homilies. Me? I'd rather sit here on this bed listening to the drone of my fan. Cause it's hot. And that's how I roll...
Monday, September 20, 2010
My First New Temptation
My behavior this weekend was boorish. There's a certain appeal every once in a while to cast off that respectable you that you've spent years developing in order to wallow in that old neanderthal self of your college years. The only thing is, I never really had any college years. By the time I was in college, I was already too old and too mature for the kind of college years that most people refer to as THE COLLEGE YEARS. So my approximation of my college years filled with boozing, partying, gambling, lascivious behavior, and other outrageous stunts, was mostly reduced to a kind of crude humor not normally allowed outside a locker room - and it got old in my mind really fast. I only maintained the pretense because nobody goes to Vegas to discuss theology, politics, or the complexities of life. For every moment when Shakespeare was in my mind, I masked it well with some half-baked discussion of some girl's anatomy and had another beer.
Las Vegas style temptation no longer has any appeal to me. Gambling (or should I call it throwing money away) is no longer fun. Drinking lost its appeal years ago. I'm too old to wander around picking up chicks. And all that drunken frat boy stuff stopped being fun after about one semester in college.
As I sat inside the Paris casino waiting for a friend, I watched all the women go by, dressed up for a night on the town, no two alike, no one really having "fun", and it occurred to me that I'd much rather spend time doing something real. Vegas suddenly seemed so artificial to me - a fantasy where the curtains were rolled back and the tiny wizard had been revealed.
Though I may have overdone it before - Kenya, Mississippi, Church, etc... - prompting a need to escape to Vegas for some counter-programming, the rightness of my path became crystal clear to me this weekend. There is a true power and a true desire for real relationships and real fun and real celebration that is other-centered. There is more fulfillment in a quiet moment of real laughter or real tears than in 10,000 nights of the artificial revelry of Las Vegas. I began to see the temptation such a REAL life could hold.
So God has dangled the temptation in front of me - to follow Him without reservation and to leave the glittery world behind. The question is, will I yield? Or will I remain boorish in some vain attempt to stay part of a world I no longer feel any connection to?
Aw heck... I give up. I'm trading in Vegas for a real life.
Las Vegas style temptation no longer has any appeal to me. Gambling (or should I call it throwing money away) is no longer fun. Drinking lost its appeal years ago. I'm too old to wander around picking up chicks. And all that drunken frat boy stuff stopped being fun after about one semester in college.
As I sat inside the Paris casino waiting for a friend, I watched all the women go by, dressed up for a night on the town, no two alike, no one really having "fun", and it occurred to me that I'd much rather spend time doing something real. Vegas suddenly seemed so artificial to me - a fantasy where the curtains were rolled back and the tiny wizard had been revealed.
Though I may have overdone it before - Kenya, Mississippi, Church, etc... - prompting a need to escape to Vegas for some counter-programming, the rightness of my path became crystal clear to me this weekend. There is a true power and a true desire for real relationships and real fun and real celebration that is other-centered. There is more fulfillment in a quiet moment of real laughter or real tears than in 10,000 nights of the artificial revelry of Las Vegas. I began to see the temptation such a REAL life could hold.
So God has dangled the temptation in front of me - to follow Him without reservation and to leave the glittery world behind. The question is, will I yield? Or will I remain boorish in some vain attempt to stay part of a world I no longer feel any connection to?
Aw heck... I give up. I'm trading in Vegas for a real life.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Worst Idea For A Romantic Comedy...
Upon leaving the Navy, I was all set to get my life started. I returned to my San Francisco home (now in Pacifica) and my fiancee and got ready to start college and get a job. Shortly after arriving home, I moved into an apartment with my good friend and fellow Navy buddy, Jay.
During the next six months, I had the sorts of adventures and life-changing moments that you see in hundreds of coming-of-age college type movies. Parties, women, crappy jobs, college, sports, and all sorts of crazy exploits surrounded me and my eyes were definitely open and my brain was definitely recording.
At the end of these six months, however, my fiancee dumped me and I was so heartbroken that I decided I'd rather live at home and spend money on a car rather than rent. As it turned out, my friends parents wanted to move back from New Hampshire - so they simply reoccupied the apartment that they had left for my friend and I.
It wasn't until a few years later, however, that I started looking back on this period with a sort of nostalgia. The heartache was still there, but the other events that happened during those six months were almost the stuff of legend. Certainly, I thought, they would be good fodder for a movie script. I began developing this idea for an autobiographical story that would be this romantic comedy.
Except that in real life, I was dumped. And miserable. Mixed feelings about this period aside, I began to play with ideas for a story.
And play.
And play.
And play.
A few years passed (Okay, more than ten, less than twenty... so far) and I started back to film school. After a rather successful attempt at making a horrible movie, I started thinking about the subject of my next film. The idea came back to me. I still hadn't figured out how to tell a romantic comedy where the main character gets horribly dumped and spends most of the movie moping around, but I started really developing the idea further.
Development always stopped however when it came time for my character to get dumped. It wasn't that the pain of being dumped had somehow inhibited my ability to write after all these years, it was more the fact that it was just so depressing of a story development that there was no amount of cool stuff that could overcome this momentum killer.
I pretty much gave up on the idea as a lost cause. But three weeks ago, in a moment of pure, brilliant insight, I suddenly realized that by moving some of the events around, by changing the actual event's orders, I could alter the momentum just enough to launch the story properly. Being certain that it had to be a mirage and that once I started writing I would realize that it couldn't possibly be that simple, I sat down on August 25th and started writing.
Last night, I finished the movie script. It took me three weeks to accomplish what it took me fifteen years to think about. The script isn't perfect, yet, but its a lot better than it has any right to be. I have finally succeeded in writing a romantic comedy about the end of my long standing relationship.
And I even managed to keep some of it still based in reality.
Oh... and best of all... No Star Wars references, whatsoever.
During the next six months, I had the sorts of adventures and life-changing moments that you see in hundreds of coming-of-age college type movies. Parties, women, crappy jobs, college, sports, and all sorts of crazy exploits surrounded me and my eyes were definitely open and my brain was definitely recording.
At the end of these six months, however, my fiancee dumped me and I was so heartbroken that I decided I'd rather live at home and spend money on a car rather than rent. As it turned out, my friends parents wanted to move back from New Hampshire - so they simply reoccupied the apartment that they had left for my friend and I.
It wasn't until a few years later, however, that I started looking back on this period with a sort of nostalgia. The heartache was still there, but the other events that happened during those six months were almost the stuff of legend. Certainly, I thought, they would be good fodder for a movie script. I began developing this idea for an autobiographical story that would be this romantic comedy.
Except that in real life, I was dumped. And miserable. Mixed feelings about this period aside, I began to play with ideas for a story.
And play.
And play.
And play.
A few years passed (Okay, more than ten, less than twenty... so far) and I started back to film school. After a rather successful attempt at making a horrible movie, I started thinking about the subject of my next film. The idea came back to me. I still hadn't figured out how to tell a romantic comedy where the main character gets horribly dumped and spends most of the movie moping around, but I started really developing the idea further.
Development always stopped however when it came time for my character to get dumped. It wasn't that the pain of being dumped had somehow inhibited my ability to write after all these years, it was more the fact that it was just so depressing of a story development that there was no amount of cool stuff that could overcome this momentum killer.
I pretty much gave up on the idea as a lost cause. But three weeks ago, in a moment of pure, brilliant insight, I suddenly realized that by moving some of the events around, by changing the actual event's orders, I could alter the momentum just enough to launch the story properly. Being certain that it had to be a mirage and that once I started writing I would realize that it couldn't possibly be that simple, I sat down on August 25th and started writing.
Last night, I finished the movie script. It took me three weeks to accomplish what it took me fifteen years to think about. The script isn't perfect, yet, but its a lot better than it has any right to be. I have finally succeeded in writing a romantic comedy about the end of my long standing relationship.
And I even managed to keep some of it still based in reality.
Oh... and best of all... No Star Wars references, whatsoever.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Free Speech? Really?!
I know this might seem reactionary, but I've been letting this storm brew in my head ever since I heard about this a couple of weeks ago. It was stupid then. It's even more moronic now that plenty of peers have weighed in on the idea and they all think its a bad idea, and the guy is going ahead with it anyway.
I'm talking, of course, about burning the Quran. Look, here's my point, plain and simple. If you're a Christian Pastor and you have to defend your action by saying that Constitution supports your right to do something, then you're probably NOT doing what God wants.
There is free speech and there is Christian speech and the two aren't always the same thing. If you want to come out and say that Abortion is bad - I may disagree with you, but I respect your right to say it. And I imagine, God respects you for saying it as well. But if you want to ATTACK someone with your "free speech" then you are NOT being Christian whether the Constitution supports your right to do so or not.
What part of Love your Neighbor is not clear? What part of Do Unto Others As You'd Want Them To Do Unto You is murky?
You are a Christian Pastor. You are called to a higher standard than the U.S. Constitution. You have the right to burn a Quran as an American, but you don't have the right to do it as a Christian. In fact, you have no right to do this and call yourself a Christian. This is Hate Speech and a Hateful Act. And to say that God wants you to do this, well, you need to go back and take a few theology courses, buddy. You are like a little kid hitting your sister and then saying, "Dad told me I could."
Sorry, but there are not many things that I see as absolutely wrong. This is one of them. There is nothing you can say or do that justifies your actions.
I'm talking, of course, about burning the Quran. Look, here's my point, plain and simple. If you're a Christian Pastor and you have to defend your action by saying that Constitution supports your right to do something, then you're probably NOT doing what God wants.
There is free speech and there is Christian speech and the two aren't always the same thing. If you want to come out and say that Abortion is bad - I may disagree with you, but I respect your right to say it. And I imagine, God respects you for saying it as well. But if you want to ATTACK someone with your "free speech" then you are NOT being Christian whether the Constitution supports your right to do so or not.
What part of Love your Neighbor is not clear? What part of Do Unto Others As You'd Want Them To Do Unto You is murky?
You are a Christian Pastor. You are called to a higher standard than the U.S. Constitution. You have the right to burn a Quran as an American, but you don't have the right to do it as a Christian. In fact, you have no right to do this and call yourself a Christian. This is Hate Speech and a Hateful Act. And to say that God wants you to do this, well, you need to go back and take a few theology courses, buddy. You are like a little kid hitting your sister and then saying, "Dad told me I could."
Sorry, but there are not many things that I see as absolutely wrong. This is one of them. There is nothing you can say or do that justifies your actions.
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