A Better Man than I

I have much to learn from Barack Obama. Had I been the one to address those pompous bastards of No who have no agenda but to make the rich richer and the poor poorer… But I wasn’t, and Obama once again demonstrated his world-class character by continuing to hold open the door for bipartisan support of We the People. It is clear now that individuals in our country are pitted against corporations, and we can only hope that Obama will prove to be our David against their Goliath. As I listened to his State of the Union address, I could not help but recall those words from the first chapter of the Gospel of John: He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. Yeah, I’ve got the picture of our president right at my desk that exclaims, It’s not a messiah complex if he actually saves the world. I have much to learn from Barack Obama.

Day by Day

There is great wisdom in living one day at a time. Only the present has the ability to affect the future while the past is forever destined to effect. While yesterday cannot be ruled out, tomorrow should not, and that’s where it becomes personally difficult to focus on now. Yes, I should be learning from the past lest I repeat it. Yes, I should be keeping an eye on what’s coming so that I am prepared for it. But the present is the undeniable reality. I flow through a process of time and space which, for me, is grounded in where I am and what I am doing now, only vaguely comprehending that it is all relative. So what am I doing and why? If I attempt to compensate for the past, I am mistaken. If I anticipate a particular future, I am mistaken. It appears to me that only synchronous harmony with the moment is not a mistake.

I Am

So, it’s Haiti! Someone, something teaches what we have yet to learn. Marvel with me as genuine global cooperation emerges as the human response to unbelievable disaster. Boundaries do not distinguish the compassionate. Nationality becomes only an identifier. The world has witnessed the fragility of its relationship to its Source. Through the eyes of Haiti humankind is viewing a clear answer to the question of whether or not it is moral for mortals to impose or inflict death. It is not. We cannot even begin to deal with natural death albeit catastrophic. We glimpse the absurdity of “mass destruction”. The world’s resources are being pooled in recognition of our oneness and our mutual responsibility to keep each other afloat to avoid sinking together. Whatever you want to call it: Mother Nature, geology, theology—or even if you maintain that it is unknowable, unspeakable, transcendent—abruptly reminds us of our fragile humanness and admonishes us to live and work together rather than commit ourselves to devising ways of death and destruction. Let not the agents of darkness stand in the way of our crossing this threshold.

So, You're Disappointed?

Since December 12, 2000, it’s been like a dream slowly deteriorating into a nightmare. E Pluribus Unum—Out of many, one—can no longer be the United States’ motto because it simply is not true. We’re a polarized nation to the point that a new civil war won’t surprise me as it erupts. There was a glimmer of hope a year ago as Barack Obama was sworn in as President, but that hope has all but succumbed to the Party of No which has no mission but to usurp all others. There are those who are disappointed in Obama. I am not one of them. Although he is far too great a man to ever say such a thing publicly, I suspect that I share Obama’s disappointment in America. The straw which may very well have broken the camel’s back is today's Supreme Court decision to strike down limits on corporate political spending. We are no longer a government of, by and for the people, but a corporate enterprise which has nothing more than its own gain in mind. The insurance companies will thrive at the expense of the sick. The military industrial complex will profit from the instigation and continuation of war. Wall Street will prosper at the expense of the “lower” classes. We should be ashamed, but we are not. That is what has gone wrong with America.

Close to Perfection

I’ve got a tight deadline today because I spent my lunch hour with Rebecca and Kevin at Potato Valley. If you’ve never been, PV is one of Las Vegas’ well guarded secrets that’s well worth getting off the beaten path. I’ve been in love with parenthood from the moment Rachel was born, and a great joy in my life is discovering that it just keeps getting better. I am so impressed by our daughters. At the most, I can only take credit for helping to keep a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and food in their stomachs. The rest they have done for themselves as they have matured into womanhood. It’s nice that they still like to spend time with Mom and Dad. What more could a person want?

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Rachel’s birthday was yesterday, coinciding with the observance of Martin Luther King Day. We were blessed to have the whole family—including significant others—together for the celebration. Our daughters are gifts to Mary and me from the Creator, gifts that continue to increase our sense of enjoyment and fulfilment. Martin Luther King, Jr., was a gift to humanity, just as were those who preceded him. The Christmas story is actually about a gift from the Creator that illumined human hearts and minds by its very presence. Human life as a gift from God: what an amazing world this would be if that was our universal creed.

Problem Solved!

Many of Las Vegas’ homeless camp out on city and county property. The City Parking Garage was erected next door to the building where I work, complete with wrought iron benches intended, I suppose, for retirees to watch the comings and goings across the street at the Regional Justice Center. If that was the intention, the homeless modified it to suit their squatting. What sort of pecking order evolved I have no idea, but as I take my daily walks I can usually count on seeing the same faces parked on the benches. A particularly wretched old woman carried the practice to a new extreme in the past few months by setting up “housekeeping” on her bench. It really was becoming a health hazard to herself and the passing public (don’t look too closely behind the bushes adorning the sidewalk) and I observed an attempt by officials to “relocate” her several weeks ago. Within short order she was back and soiling the city’s clean appearance. Well, today Las Vegas took care of the problem. I saw a city crew surveying the area as I walked to work, and by the time I took my mid-morning stroll, the benches were gone! Now the sidewalk has more room because the obstructing indigents have lost their seats. I’m thinking that those who are attempting to deal with the disaster in Haiti ought to take note. I’m sure that the Army Corps of Engineers has sufficient heavy equipment to just plow the devastation under and replace it with nice, clean concrete. It’s clearer to me now why I’m looking forward to leaving Las Vegas.

All the Leaves Are Brown

I can’t help myself! I am perpetually pondering the meaning of life and the purpose of my existence. I suppose that I can blame this on my parents, but I don’t see that as allaying the obsession. The objective, rational part of me (if there is one) tells me that it really doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’m part of a society that defines my role and purpose. I am to be a productive, contributing member insofar as conformity will allow. I’m obviously not called upon to think or be creative, because if that was my role I would already be in a position of leadership or celebrity. No, my productive contribution seems to be to work, earn income, and support the State. Rather than providing any answers, turning 60 seems to have just exacerbated the dilemma. Because of my disease, I cost more to keep alive than I earn. Because I have already made my contribution toward two beautiful human beings in the world, I’m no longer needed to reproduce. And I am not alone. I suspect that there are multitudes who ask the same questions I do, who arrive at no better answers, and so experience the process of life as rather mundane. While it’s flattering to think of myself as a child of God, there is absolutely nothing unique or extraordinary about that. And isn’t that our cultural goal, to be unique and extraordinary? Follow the money to answer that question. And so here I sit, an old man in 406-2, digesting my lunch and contemplating an afternoon of earning my keep as a desk jockey. Where in the world did that “you are the light of the world” crap come from?

Whiter Shade of Pale

I just used up my blogging time talking to a coworker about all the hoopla surrounding Harry Reid’s “racial” remarks about Obama. I’ve never really bothered to evaluate what shade of black she is, or whether she speaks the Negro dialect. Likewise, she has not determined the degree of my whiteness nor pegged which part of the West my drawl is from. But we’re in agreement that Reid’s mistake was one of political correctness and not of bigotry or malice. We also agree that the extreme Right, in whatever form, is on the verge of being downright scary. Given the increasing irrationality of our society, I can imagine Sarah Palin being elected president. I don’t even have to imagine what I’ll do when that happens. “Oh Canada, oh Canada…”

You Say Employment, I Say Fulfillment

The new year hasn’t exactly gone the way I had expected thus far. An ear infection that I brought home from Colorado sidelined me last week, and while it hasn’t completely “unplugged” yet, I’m on the mend. The down time has afforded me the opportunity to reflect upon my blog and where I want to go with it. As I’ve said many times before, blogging is a ridiculously cheap form of therapy that benefits me greatly even if it doesn’t do anything for anyone else. 2010 is the year that I hope to semi-retire. I say ‘semi’ because I’m among those baby boomers who don’t expect to ever be able to fully retire from some sort of employment to supplement the income. And, because of the leukemia, I am admittedly retiring as early as I possibly can because I want to live each day to its fullest. The whole proposition has led me to recall the distinction made during confirmation between ‘vocation’ and ‘occupation’. An occupation is employment that brings in the necessary income. Vocation is the “calling” to one’s reason for being. I had those wonderful fifteen years in the active ministry when my occupation and vocation were very nearly the same. In looking to the future, I’m hoping that such synchronicity might still be possible. While I know I’m not supposed to, I envy those who exclaim that they can’t believe they’re being paid to do what they love.

These Three

I resolve not to lose hope this year, and I am grateful for family and friends who are helping me to keep the faith. Were I strictly on my own, I might well not be up to the challenge. Mary is my rock. Through the good times and the bad she remains at my side and blesses me with her love. Rachel and Rebecca are the present and future being built on the foundation of our sacred love, and I find it hard not to brag about what wonderful human beings they are. I am fortunate that both of my parents are still living. It is through their example that I gain some semblance of wisdom and understanding. I have no greater supporter than my sister, and the in-laws that have come into my life might as well be kin by blood. I am unapologetically pro family, and I suggest to humankind that there is no more noble cause than to seal the bonds between parents and their children with love. There are certainly always exceptions, but the rule I perceive is that evil gains a foothold only when families fail to engender the love they are called to provide. So, it is from family that I derive, in the words of our President, the audacity to hope. If I am wise enough to remember this on a daily basis, then I shall never be deprived of hope.

Let the Countdown Begin

After having been present for sixty-one of them, I cannot recall a merrier Christmas or happier birthday than those just celebrated. 2010 should prove to be one of those momentous years in our personal lives, akin to 1971 when we married, 1984 when Rachel was born, and 1986 when Rebecca was born. The prospect of semi-retirement in Fort Collins is beginning to take shape. There are many variables, of course, including Las Vegas’ extraordinarily high numbers in the areas of unemployment and foreclosures. Still, the pieces seem to be coming together as I continually remind myself of Desiderata’s wisdom that, whether I know it or not, the universe is unfolding as it should. The New Year is off to a bad start with the shooting at the federal courthouse (photos of the building can be seen in the My World set on Flickr) just two blocks from where I work. We were in lock down until noon, and the news makes a third death sound imminent. These eruptions of evil can and do take place anywhere, but I’m looking forward to the strength and support of family to cope with them. For now, we will begin the first steps toward that promising future.