These past few days have been such a blessing. This year has been marked with getting on and off airplanes, meetings with customers, training reps in the new world order, going, going, going. Last Friday afternoon, I unpacked my business laptop, turned off my business phone, plugged it in, and have (mostly) ignored the inclination to check it all see what is going on. I have taken "time off" for what will end up being 10 days. And I am loving it.
Here are a few things I have discovered:
I don't really sleep enough. My body has gotten used to caching sleep in 4 hour segments. To illustrate this, I am posting a blog at 6AM, I have been up since 4AM, I woke up twice from 10PM to 4AM. Twice during this time off my bride made me take a nap. Both ended up being two hour, dead-to-the-world, waking up disoriented, type of naps. They were also incredibly refreshing. I probably can't change my sleep patterns, but recognizing the need is something. Right? I also have found the fun in staying up a bit and then crawling back into bed to snuggle for a little bit. No flights to catch, no conference calls, no agenda. Simply crawl back in and try not to wake my bride who is, by the way, a champion sleeper.
Then we get into those silly meandering conversations that two life partners of almost 40 years get into. We were just waking up and each mentioned that we both had weird dreams. We were laughing about it being the paint and glue fumes from having our master bath redone over the previous couple of days. I said, "Well, don't touch the pretty blue flower on the stove." She had no idea what I was talking about. Then trying to describe the anti-drug film in health from 7th or 8th grade, only confused her more. For the next couple of days I tried to find someone else who had seen the film about the effects of doing drugs and received only blank looks for my explanation. Apparently all the other school systems were running sex-ed films trying to keep their young girls from getting pregnant. Don F, John W, and I had to try and figure all that sex stuff out on our own while camping as 16 year olds...as the line from Dumb and Dumber..we were way off. Somewhere along the line, though, we figured it out, since we are all leading a pack of kids, grandkids, and three very patient and understanding, and possibly a bit bewildered wives.
I am a sentimental old fool. I am replacing my old worn-out 2000 Ford Ranger, the survivor of a deer attack (see blog from a couple of years ago) , a daughter's stint in college, and the effects of 256,000 miles. Like all of us, her paint is coming off, the electrical system doesn't work very well, and she clunks and clanks and moans and groans as the miles pile up. We need something dependable, and Miss Rojo is no longer that. So it is with bitter-sweetness that I look at the shiny new trucks and try to find a worthy replacement. Sigh.
Godspeed to all the folks out there who have some time off to reflect, to rest, to refresh during these days. It is 6:30, I think I will sneak back in and snuggle a bit.
Don
Friday, December 28, 2012
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The Altar of Security
This post has been percolating in my mind since last week when a first grade class in a quiet elementary school became the killing fields for a sick and sad young man. Like the rest of the nation my questions centered around why, and what could be done to prevent, what went wrong, who missed the clues? Tragedy of this magnitude is simply hard to fathom. I can't imagine what the parents, grandparents, friends and community are going through. The snapshots of parents receiving the crushing news about their precious babies will be forever etched in my mind. Anxiety replaced by news that will change the shape of their world and their hearts forever, the images will not go away, ever.
The stories of courageous educators shielding their young charges hits home with me. Both of my daughters are educators, my bride is a 20 year veteran in the library at our local elementary. I have no problem envisioning all my girls stepping into the breach, unarmed, except for the warrior spirit they each carry. There is no doubt in my mind that they would act exactly as the brave ladies from last week, sacrificing their own lives to save a few. I have no doubt at all, and it makes me proud and sick at heart all at the same time.
What I haven't been able to stomach in the days since the shooting is the political agendas from both the professional politicians and the pompous talking heads. All are trying to frame the event to their advantage. Some are saying it is a gun issue, others are claiming it is a mental health issue, school security, law enforcement, the list goes on and on. It is never ending the ability of ego-centric people to bend world events to their view. I can't listen to them anymore.
The real issue is that this world is a battleground. It is Evil against Good. There are no rules, there are no DMZs, everyone is engaged in the battle. But in America we have selected a philosophy that we hope will take us out of the battle. We have decided that we can do anything to anybody in the name of security. We worship at the altar of Security.
This philosophy invades every fiber of our society. My work takes me all over the country. I will fly over 100 segments this year. Several times a week I have to strip off my shoes, my belt, empty my pockets, put all liquids in a bag, take my laptop out, to go through "security". On the occasion when I can use TSA Pre-Check, it only reminds me that most of the time I can't. But the reality is that TSA hopes and I hope that someone hasn't found a way to blow a hole in the plane at 30,000 feet. The reason this is so important is not that the 150 souls or so on board are precious, but that the news account would shake the "security" of the economy of one of our largest industries.
All we need to do make us all safe is to take away all the guns, all the drinking alcohol, drugs, bad drivers, slick roads, find a cure to all terminal illnesses, get rid of heart disease, cancer, and saturated fats and then we can all sleep well at night. It can't be done. Because then people would worry themselves to death because they are worried about retirement, we won't have enough social "security" to see all the way to the end. Preachers have focused for decades on "salvation", why? because it is our security blanket in the great uncounting beyond.
We as a society cannot build enough walls, enough safe guards, enough rules, enough regulations to guard us against the Evil that lurks. As sad as it is to see precious little ones die before they have had a chance to live, it is not something this battle we call life will allow.
And I'm not sure we should want to. Have we traded one fear for another when our schools are barred, guarded by military, and locked down? Have we traded risk for imprisonment? I am reminded of a story of a wealthy man who had an only son. He kept this son confined to their estate, with any luxury the son needed. On his 18th birthday the father allowed the son to go free into society. The excitement killed the boy.
My heart breaks for the parents of those kids, for the spouses and kids of those educators, but it reminds me that the battle rages on, and it reminds me that another father took the risky road and sent his son, not to live securely, but to die. The first battle cry in the war was a baby's whimper from a manger. The Evil One has never forgotten or forgiven that defeat.
Godspeed to all the risk-takers, the ones who fight the battle, who stand in the way and will not allow Evil to win the day. The battle rages, take heart, it is okay to cry, but through the tears Good must fight on.
Don
The stories of courageous educators shielding their young charges hits home with me. Both of my daughters are educators, my bride is a 20 year veteran in the library at our local elementary. I have no problem envisioning all my girls stepping into the breach, unarmed, except for the warrior spirit they each carry. There is no doubt in my mind that they would act exactly as the brave ladies from last week, sacrificing their own lives to save a few. I have no doubt at all, and it makes me proud and sick at heart all at the same time.
What I haven't been able to stomach in the days since the shooting is the political agendas from both the professional politicians and the pompous talking heads. All are trying to frame the event to their advantage. Some are saying it is a gun issue, others are claiming it is a mental health issue, school security, law enforcement, the list goes on and on. It is never ending the ability of ego-centric people to bend world events to their view. I can't listen to them anymore.
The real issue is that this world is a battleground. It is Evil against Good. There are no rules, there are no DMZs, everyone is engaged in the battle. But in America we have selected a philosophy that we hope will take us out of the battle. We have decided that we can do anything to anybody in the name of security. We worship at the altar of Security.
This philosophy invades every fiber of our society. My work takes me all over the country. I will fly over 100 segments this year. Several times a week I have to strip off my shoes, my belt, empty my pockets, put all liquids in a bag, take my laptop out, to go through "security". On the occasion when I can use TSA Pre-Check, it only reminds me that most of the time I can't. But the reality is that TSA hopes and I hope that someone hasn't found a way to blow a hole in the plane at 30,000 feet. The reason this is so important is not that the 150 souls or so on board are precious, but that the news account would shake the "security" of the economy of one of our largest industries.
All we need to do make us all safe is to take away all the guns, all the drinking alcohol, drugs, bad drivers, slick roads, find a cure to all terminal illnesses, get rid of heart disease, cancer, and saturated fats and then we can all sleep well at night. It can't be done. Because then people would worry themselves to death because they are worried about retirement, we won't have enough social "security" to see all the way to the end. Preachers have focused for decades on "salvation", why? because it is our security blanket in the great uncounting beyond.
We as a society cannot build enough walls, enough safe guards, enough rules, enough regulations to guard us against the Evil that lurks. As sad as it is to see precious little ones die before they have had a chance to live, it is not something this battle we call life will allow.
And I'm not sure we should want to. Have we traded one fear for another when our schools are barred, guarded by military, and locked down? Have we traded risk for imprisonment? I am reminded of a story of a wealthy man who had an only son. He kept this son confined to their estate, with any luxury the son needed. On his 18th birthday the father allowed the son to go free into society. The excitement killed the boy.
My heart breaks for the parents of those kids, for the spouses and kids of those educators, but it reminds me that the battle rages on, and it reminds me that another father took the risky road and sent his son, not to live securely, but to die. The first battle cry in the war was a baby's whimper from a manger. The Evil One has never forgotten or forgiven that defeat.
Godspeed to all the risk-takers, the ones who fight the battle, who stand in the way and will not allow Evil to win the day. The battle rages, take heart, it is okay to cry, but through the tears Good must fight on.
Don
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Never Again
This past Thanksgiving was an avalanche of blessings. All my kids and grand kids around. Watching Eli become the idol of his younger boy cousins. Enjoying all the bows and bloomers and cuddles of my granddaughters. Bumping elbows with everyone in the kitchen. Getting to talk to my dad for a couple of days, instead of on all too brief phone visits. Going to bed tired and sore and full of contentment. This was certainly one of the Thanksgivings for the record books.
But this one is gone. Never to be lived again. We have pictures and we have stories to tell, we have the memories that will reside inside to be awakened at the least expected moment. But this moment will never be relived. It is likely that this group will never be reconvened in just this assortment again, with the ages of everyone locked in place, with the life circumstances putting thoughts in our heads or actions in our hands. The moment is gone like small puff of smoke on a breezy day.
I don't know why this has stuck with me all week. This is a truth that is ancient and new. I guess part of it is the reminder that this life is certainly a journey, short for some, longer for others, but a one-way journey. It is not a journey where we can retrace our steps. We can't move back down the path we have already traversed. I know there are moments when I would like nothing better than to camp at a certain point in my life, but the flow of life itself pulls me ever onward.
This journey is usually uphill. It has resting places with stunning views and reflection on the effort it took to get to that spot, but the journey is not finished. Watching my dad struggle at 90 with names and a hip that bothers him, it struck me that the journey also gets a steep at the end. Perhaps for him it is simply all the steps along the way that makes it hard to remember them all. On my journey it is holding two little girls Lola and Abby who have just begun their journey. They are riding on others shoulders right now, carried along until they can walk the journey themselves. While the grade seems mild for now, it will steepen as they get older.
So the backpack gets dusted off, the laces on the boots tightened a bit. Glancing around to make sure everyone is on their feet and moving out. But this was a nice rest stop, a place of jokes and caring and service and hugs. Perhaps the hugs were the best.
Godspeed to all the travelers, hope you enjoyed your moment of rest.
Don
But this one is gone. Never to be lived again. We have pictures and we have stories to tell, we have the memories that will reside inside to be awakened at the least expected moment. But this moment will never be relived. It is likely that this group will never be reconvened in just this assortment again, with the ages of everyone locked in place, with the life circumstances putting thoughts in our heads or actions in our hands. The moment is gone like small puff of smoke on a breezy day.
I don't know why this has stuck with me all week. This is a truth that is ancient and new. I guess part of it is the reminder that this life is certainly a journey, short for some, longer for others, but a one-way journey. It is not a journey where we can retrace our steps. We can't move back down the path we have already traversed. I know there are moments when I would like nothing better than to camp at a certain point in my life, but the flow of life itself pulls me ever onward.
This journey is usually uphill. It has resting places with stunning views and reflection on the effort it took to get to that spot, but the journey is not finished. Watching my dad struggle at 90 with names and a hip that bothers him, it struck me that the journey also gets a steep at the end. Perhaps for him it is simply all the steps along the way that makes it hard to remember them all. On my journey it is holding two little girls Lola and Abby who have just begun their journey. They are riding on others shoulders right now, carried along until they can walk the journey themselves. While the grade seems mild for now, it will steepen as they get older.
So the backpack gets dusted off, the laces on the boots tightened a bit. Glancing around to make sure everyone is on their feet and moving out. But this was a nice rest stop, a place of jokes and caring and service and hugs. Perhaps the hugs were the best.
Godspeed to all the travelers, hope you enjoyed your moment of rest.
Don
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