You're Not the Boss of Me!

The riots in the middle east have held a certain fascination for me. These protests have monopolized the news and raised the prices at the pump. Talking heads on all the networks, both broadcast and cable have opinions, points of views, and conclusions. They have brought in experts who have told us that this was foreseeable. TV has carried images of angry young protesters, of entrenched and embattled nation leaders, and of anonymous BDU clad military, smoke enshrouded city streets, and heavy artillery clunking forward against rock throwers. It is a scene of confusion, desperation, and a stark battle of wills.

But no one has given a clear and concise answer to the "why" question. What is driving these people to risk life and limb to face a vastly better armed opponent? And why is it erupting in a fairly well-defined part of the globe? Why now? Why there? Why these people?

It is being reported that Facebook and Twitter, and the Internet are all contributors to this unrest. There are indications that the movement is more heavily driven by young people. And it is obvious that the nations most targeted are the ones that have oppressed far longer than their neighbors.

So here is my conclusion. It is my firm belief that whenever a severe and sectarian organization deals with its constituents in a heavy handed manner, then that organization should expect a revolt. The revolt always comes from the young people. They do not care that they may be outgunned, out-financed, and no part of the power structure. When the scope of discipline outstrips the dignity of the individual, that individual will push back. We all see it in families. As a parent you can put your child under a crushing thumb, but as some point that child will grow and bite that thumb of oppression..at whatever cost.

We have this in our own national history. The sexual revolution from the '60s tells us that when a puritanical structure is applied across all, there will be a revolt. Personally, I was taken captive early in the revolution and spent the duration doing dishes, but the rejection of code and bond has become the norm today, not the exception. It changed the way our nation thought and expressed itself and a return to the national conscience from prior to the '60s is gone for good.

I firmly believe that what we are witnessing is the rejection of the national stricture of the Muslim code by the young people, just as the young people of this country rejected the sectarian, christian structure almost 50 years ago. Instead of feeling the need to fight the jihadists that have held our attention for so long, we inadvertently put into the hands of the young the greatest weapon of all...the ability to communicate digitally without the control of government, culture, family, or religion. They tweeted this entire riot into existence. 147 characters at a time will topple governments that the US of A haven't been able to bring down. Never underestimate the power of man to exert free will when the oppression is the greatest. There is something inside all of us that will cause us to stand and shake our fists at oppression even in the face of the most overwhelming of odds. I suspect the line from the old movie probably sums up the feelings of those in the news, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" But the reason for that anger is the suppression of that will by force.

We should all take this to heart. We have it in all of us. The quickest way to get me to dig my heals in is to tell me that I have no choice. The quickest way to get me to do something is to exhibit your love for me, then ask my help. I will kill myself to make sure I have helped.

Godspeed to all the revolutionists, it is the power that changes.
Don

Birthdays and Reflections

Birthdays and reflections go together like peas and carrots, as our nationally favorite challenged person once said. This may be a trend as we get older. I discovered that when I say that I am 57, it doesn't even make a ripple in my psyche, but to write it down is to understand that the number is far larger than I feel it should be. How did this age catch me so quick? I suspect somewhere in the next 57 I will be launched into the "great uncounting" But man, having now written it a few times in this paragraph, it sure looks like a big number.

Here are a few things I have noticed at this age, though.

Something hurts all the time, knees, back, teeth, feet, shoulder. Instead of giving Tylenol a run at my liver, I just put up with it with as little whining as possible. Probably more whining than I realize if you were to ask my bride, but less than some.

I cannot tell how old anyone else is. Young people all look younger than my kids, who it now occurs to me are not all that young either. My dad said one time he realized he was old when he looked at his kids and realized they were all middle-aged. I took some offense to that at the time..a compliment now. Guys my age look either 40 or 70, I am reluctant to take a good hard look in the mirror to see which category I fall into. By the way, when looking the mirror, I look at pretty specific things like teeth (all there?) where is hair growing it shouldn't, any skin spots need to be inspected? I never look at the entire picture. It is called focus.

My bride is as dear to me as she ever was. I can't see her without the patina of love and devotion. I'm sure she has aged, but I can't see it. She still holds my heart captive and makes my pants go crazy (my kids just signed off)

Life is pretty good, still able to do about whatever I want to. No major bumps in the road. Can dress like I want to, and dress myself. I can still work and work out. I can still love and be loved.

Godspeed to the other birthday folks out there. Hope there are enough in the future to say "I love you" to all the right folks.
Don

Snow Days

I like snow days. A lot people don't like them because they dread the pile up of work, or days to be made up, or being trapped in a house with a bunch of rambunctious kids, or the dirty floors from the snow and grime tracked in. But I like the entire deal. When my kids lived at home all I remember were the good memories and the fun pictures from those moments that are not duplicated in any other setting.

Here is a list of what I like:

- I like the food that goes along with the cold weather. Chili and soups and good Italian pasta. Big breakfasts of eggs and bacon or pancakes. I like holding a mug of hot coffee and nursing that thing along until it is gone or I have to reheat it. I enjoy the festival of baking cookies and always being amazed that the number of cookies never matches the number we should have generated with the recipe (I suspect the constant grazing on the cookie dough probably throws off the number) I like the smells that are generated by all this cooking, filling the house with a reminder that most of our really good memories are around the dinner table.

- I like the fireplace. I know that most folks now have the gas fireplaces with the ceramic logs, but I like having a real fire with real wood. I enjoy the constant fiddling with the logs and making sure that the fire is "pretty." I even like the phenomenon of the rest of the house being much cooler and the fireplace being a little nova of warmth and community. There is something restorative about parking by the fire in a big chair, or snuggled up with my bride late in the evening after we have shoved the loveseat over in front of the fireplace. I especially like the contentment that comes from nursing along a really nice pinot noir late in the evening and watching the fire burn down and thinking deep, deep thoughts. There are not many things that generate the reflection that a good fire backed by a snowstorm will bring.

- I like (although now in shorter sprints) playing in the snow, laughing at the kids and dog. Memories of dragging them behind the lawnmower or the car on a sled or a big piece of card board. I enjoy the emergence of the neighborhood snowmen. The ice always catches me off guard and I still chuckle to myself at my silly clumsy spraddle-legged walk when I unexpectedly hit a patch of ice. I like looking at and wondering about the icicles that form on the house eaves, always the same, but always catching me by surprise.

There is something congenial about cold and snow and ice. It forces us indoors and forces us together. There is something wonderful and being able to stay snuggled in under the flannel sheets, curled up with my bride and knowing that the day is not filled with going and doing. I like that it slows and pauses and lets us enjoy the infrequency of this weather in Texas.

I like it for about three days...then I'm done, but those are usually three great days.

Godspeed to the snow folks, I am not a resident, only a tourist.
Don

Storm Watchers

I have become a storm watcher. Not the weather kind, the human trauma kind. Emotional trauma, especially illness sweeps through your life, creating all kinds of havoc, then finds it way on down the road, or plays itself out.

This past weekend, we had a pretty good thunder shower. Oh it was not the world shifting event of my mother's dying of cancer (hurricane force winds) and it was not the tsunami that my eldest daughter's cancer created, or the month-long snow storm of Lincoln's NICU stay, but it was a pretty powerful little thunderstorm. It also ran across my property, but was mostly located on my daughter's property..we share a fence line. It clouded up and rained, and had moments when there was some pretty intense lightening (we may not be able to fix the hole in her heart with the implant.) A flash of dread, then the lightening is gone. Hitting nothing. They fixed the hole.

In the midst of watching my daughter, who has created some real storms in our lives, it was interesting to see her deal with the other side of the event...the waiting. She made it pretty clear she did not like this side of it. And as we waited and waited, peering down the hall towards the door behind which was our little Phoebe and the doctors who were patching her heart, I tried to let little snippets of storm watching hints drop on my daughter for the help she might need. Little pieces of news that are set backs need to handled with a "neutral" mind. Decisions have to made without the considerations of the previous decisions. Then you have to let it go, the could'a-should'a-would'a syndrome will kill you in these situations. So you watch the storm roll on and know that you will have to fix any of the damage later, but there is nothing you can do about it now.

So the storm rolled through. Very little damage, mostly good stuff. The air smells fresh and new, the ground underfoot has that spongy, healthy feel to it. You can see where the flowers will spring up in a day or so. It is the irony that where the storm hit the hardest, across the fence in my daughter's heart, is where the flowers will grow the tallest. Storm watchers know these things. It is good to know these things, but the training is brutal.

Godspeed out there to all the storm watchers and rained on residents. Spring follows the trauma of a good rain.
Don