Lady Madonna

'Read at least one book a week' is the advice that Stephen King gives to writers.  His recommendation has changed the way I allocate my time.  I have been freed from the guilt I used to suffer from using my time “unproductively.”   In fact, I feel like I have been given the keys to a Little Debbie delivery truck and told all the treats are calorie-free.

However, I have become very discriminating in my reading, enjoying mostly memoirs, since that is the genre I am most interested in from a writing point of view.  But I do occasionally sneak in one of the many novels I’ve ordered from Amazon that are stacked on the bookshelves like soldiers at attention calling to me like Circe.  This tantalizing title, Our Lady of the Lost and Found by Diane Schoemperlen, became my most recent choice. 

Imagine having a woman dressed in a blue raincoat and Nikes appear in your living room, identify herself as Mary, Mother of God, and ask if she can stay for a week’s rest.  This is what has happened to the narrator, a single, middle-aged,  non-Catholic woman who is a writer.  Amazingly enough, their week together is quite low-key, however, Mary does tell of some of her miracles, and the narrator tells us of many more.  But that isn’t all.

The meaning of life, the evil in the world, faith, mystery, time, reality and history are just some of the philosophical topics that the author addresses in a very readable and yet thought-provoking manner.  Her reflections and soul-searching lead us to do the same.

What would you do if a woman carrying a suitcase and a purse appeared in your house claiming she was the Virgin Mary?  Think about it.  Then pick up this book and be prepared to be transformed.

Labor day and a birthday

Labor Day, once called “a workingmen’s holiday,” originated out of workers’ protest over the 12-hour working day/7 days a week, low wages, and unsafe and unhealthy working conditions.  Today it’s a celebration of the achievements and contributions American workers, male and female, make to the social and economic strength and vitality of our country.

Labor unions have been targeted by the politicians and public as evil and the source of all things wrong with our current economic conditions.  But, as our country was moving from an agrarian to industrial society, it is through these labor unions that American workers came to have the wherewithal  to purchase the goods that they were making.  Something we need to remember today!  And, it was because of the labor unions that our children are free to attend public schools, to become the educated populace necessary for a democratic and economically progressive society, instead of toiling in mines, factories and mills for pennies a day.

When we remember how and why this holiday came into being, can we as consumers in good conscience continue to buy products based solely on cost?  Can we without embarrassment buy clothing that has been manufactured on the backs of child labor?  Is it moral to buy electronics or sneakers or toys from companies that don’t pay their workers a fair wage and don’t provide safe and healthy working conditions for them?  What would happen if our buying habits changed, and we wouldn’t purchase products from labor-unfriendly companies?  Yes, the price of some products we desire may increase, however, so will competition, which can influence price, employment, and quality.  And, better yet, the global pool of consumers with the means to purchase products and services from a wide variety of sources will grow and add to the economic viability of many countries.

Many think the need for labor unions is long passed, but look at the migrant workers in our country who toil outside labor laws.  They put in 12 to14-hour days/7 days a week of hard physical labor, exposed to pesticides and dangerous equipment.  They are low paid, uninsured, and suffer poorer physical health and have a shorter life expectancy than the general population.  Their children often work by their sides but aren’t reported on the farmers’ books.  The delicious tomato, peach, or mushroom you eat today may have been planted, tended, and harvested by one of these dedicated workers.  You and I spend less of our money on food than any other country in the world.  Now you know why.  When will our migrant workers be included in Labor Day?

Fareed Zakaria’s blog entry, “Hey, America: Take a Vacation!” that he shared on his Sunday television show reminds us that the American worker is working too many hours on too many days every year.  The average European worker gets three times more vacation days than the average worker does here and uses a higher percentage of those days.  The average number of vacation days an American worker receives: 13.  The average percentage of those used per year: 57%.  H-m-m-m, do I see a possible solution to our high unemployment?

But, in fact, all the above is a mere digression from my true subject for this 5th day of September.  This is the 60th birthday of my friend Muffy, and, in celebration, she and her cousin are kayaking the shores of the Upper Peninsula in girlfriend solidarity.  Muffy has known me longer than any other non-relative and knows the true me, the one who imagined my doll was really a baby, and I was the teacher of a classroom of young students my age.  She is an amazing and brilliant woman, well-described by the words of this post dedicated to strong women from Arlene’s Facebook wall:
    I am strong because I know weakness,
    I am compassionate because I have experienced suffering,
    I am alive because I am a fighter,
    I am wise because I’ve been foolish,
    I can laugh because I have known sadness,
    I can love because I’ve known loss.

I send her my love on this day, and I hope it will be just as special as she is.

Summer to fall

About two weeks ago we experienced the first taste of fall in the air, and over the weekend I noticed a tree was donning its colorful finery.  Labor Day is but a week away, not the fall solstice, but for most of us, it signals the start of autumn, and in Michigan, the return of children to school.  Yes, summer is on the wane, but not yet passed.

Flowers, blueberries, apples, pears, peaches, peppers, bi-color corn, watermelon, and musk melon are in abundance at the farmers’ market.  The array of colors, shapes, smells, tastes, and textures drenches the senses.  We’re awakened with blue skies full of sun and the promise of warm days that draw us to the lake.

I am reminded to soak up these days, to be present for what each offers, to remember the joy and freedom summer days brought me as a child.  I’m going to give myself permission to be idle, so I can find recognizable shapes in the clouds and listen to the lap of water.  I will let refreshment wash over me and strengthen me for what is to come.

For everything there is a season…
    (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

Have a blessed rest

It happened the first night Amy (Bob's youngest) visited us here in Holland.  She hugged and kissed us goodnight and headed down the hall to bed, but then she stopped.  She turned around and said to me, "You didn't tell me to have 'a blessed rest.'  You always tell me to have 'a blessed rest' before I go to bed." 

My "identical best friend" (a description given to us by her husband) from high school is the one who first said it to me.  I really loved it.  I felt especially covered by God's love.  I began telling it to others who visited, including Amy, hoping that they would feel the peace that it gave me. 

I had no idea that it had become a bedtime ritual between Amy and me, but upon hearing her lament, my heart was warmed.  It was the sign of another family connection between us, step-mother and step-daughter.  I hope the blessing is something she will share with others, and I hope she thinks of me each time in the same loving way I think of Barbara.  Amen.

Thin places

Thin places.  Not on my body, you may be thinking, and you would be right, except for my very narrow feet, too narrow for most shoes.  No, not on my body but haphazardly throughout my life, I experience thin places, times in my life when I have eyes to see God’s hand.  I never knew what to call these moments, coincidences, or miracles (minor or otherwise) until I, along with other Disciples’ women, stepped into the realm of the ordinary being extraordinary at the annual spiritual writing retreat the past two summers.  And it was this newfound awareness that led me to read the memoir Thin Places by Mary E. DeMuth.  Let me share a few paragraphs from the opening chapter with you:

             I, myself, am a thin place.      
            The Celts define a thin place as a place where heaven and the physical world collide, one of
     those serendipitous territories where eternity and the mundane meet. Thin describes the membrane
     between the tow worlds, like a piece of vellum, where we see a holy glimpse of the eternal--
     not in digital clarity, but clear enough to discern what lies beyond.
            Thin places are snatches of holy ground, tucked into the corners of our world, where, if we
     pay very close attention, we might just catch a glimpse of eternity.  Legend has it that thin places
     are places for pilgrims, where ghostlike echoes of those gone before can be felt and heard,
     where the Ancients whisper their wisdom near the ruins of a church or the craggy outcropping of
     a rock.  In this way, a thin place is an ancient doorway to the fairy-tale netherworld--a fanciful
     notion that children embrace and adults find preposterous.
             Maybe it’s my own imagination that hopes for real thin places on this earth.  I’m a storyteller,
     after all, prone to wander in make-believe worlds.  I’d like to believe in portals to eternity--Narnia
     doors beckoning me onward and upward.  Even so, I’m broadening the metaphor a bit.  Thin
     places are snatches of time, moments really, when we sense God intersecting our world in tangible,
     unmistakable ways.  They are aha moments, beautiful realizations, when the Son of God bursts
     through the hazy fog of our monotony and shines on us afresh.
    He has come near to my life.  I will tell you how.

Mary shares her life with her readers.  She tells of traumatic things that happened to her as a child that continue to impact her life today, and she also tells of the lovely things that she has experienced.  In each case, she identifies the part that God played.

When I opened the book, I was intrigued immediately upon reading that first sentence above (actually the second paragraph), “I, myself, am a thin place.”  I’d never thought of myself, my person and being, as a thin place, but I've started thinking about it.  We know from the Word that we are aliens in this land.  We are not of this world, yet, we live here as God’s children.  As Christians, do we wander always at the intersection of the spiritual and physical worlds?  Am I a thin place, and are you?

Am I a writer?

Read and write.  According to Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King, that’s what it takes to be a writer.  I think it’s fair to add that a writer needs to have the gift or calling, the honed skill, and the passion too.  Me, am I a writer?  Do I have what it takes?

Of all of the above requirements, I can say that I am widely read.  I have devoured books as quickly as potato chips from the time I was able to read on my own.  Daily I eagerly awaited the mail hoping for a delivery from one of the book clubs my parents had let me join.  When a new book arrived I quickly unleashed it from its packing and sat down in Daddy’s roomy black chair to begin a new adventure.  Immediately I entered into the story whether it be a biography, classic, or the recounting of a famous event.  As 5:00 p.m. neared my mother would tell me to set the table for dinner and I would call out that I’d get to it after I finished the chapter.  Then the end of that chapter would leave me hanging, and I would start the next one and so on until my mother’s voice became harried or angry, her patience tried.  Most of these books were recently rediscovered when I cleaned out the attic at my parents’ house upon their passing.  They reside on my bookshelves, reminding me of the happiest of childhood times.

I also enjoyed other sources of reading material from “Highlights” to Scholastic books.  And then there were visits to the city’s public library, The Burnham Anthenaeum, a big solid-looking building on Church Street, just across from the park.  My eyes never strayed to the side of the street with the swings and climbing apparatus, no, my focus was entirely on my favorite destination.  Once inside, I would stand in awe, admiring the pillars, marble, and huge staircase, and then I’d breathe in the familiar scent of the wooden bookcases and moldings.  There, to the left and on the bottom shelf, was the Laura Ingalls Wilder series of “Little House” books.   I read them all.  I plowed through other series too, the Bobbsey Twins, okay but not a favorite, and Nancy Drew.  Our sixth grade classroom library was composed solely of the Hardy Boys books, so I even read those.

During my high school years I was exposed to wonderful literature from around the world, and once I finished college and had time to read what I wished, I revisited many of those authors from Tolstoy and Dostoevsky to Vonnegut.  During the summers of my teaching years, I  often read two books a day, all “beach reading” from the local library.

My focus is different now having reached that point in my life where I realize that there is so little time and so many books.  Consequently, my reading has become increasingly selective.  Currently I am making my way through memoirs and literature suggested by writers as well as “how to” books on writing.  I don’t know if I am preparing myself to write or merely testing myself.  Do I have a gift for writing?

I don’t know.  Much of my writing has been formal and work related--grants, long reports, instruction manuals, and articles for journals.  More recently I wrote editorial columns for a small local newspaper and had some memoir pieces published as a result of the spiritual writing retreats I’ve attended.  Now I have this blog that is supposed to provide me with an opportunity to write and the discipline to make timely entries.  I have failed on the second.  But it is the encouragement of others I have received for many years that spurs me on, and I find myself at 60 with this new purpose.  Skills can be learned, but now is the time to discern my gift and my passion.  Not for the faint-hearted.

Zoe's tale of horror

Zoe thinks she is being stalked.  She keeps a protective eye on her dinner and water dishes.  The iRobot roomba has threatened her territory.

I came home from an afternoon of shopping and found Bob sitting at his computer with an alert Zoe, ears up, on his lap.  “How was your day?” I asked. 

“I’m just exhausted.” Bob replied, “Don’t your hear the noise?”

Then it came to me.  He had purchased a new toy.  Sure enough, the roomba was swirling under the chairs and beds, doing the hula down the hallway, and heading back to its dock to be recharged.  I think I heard Zoe breathe the inevitable sigh of relief when the quiet returned.  Bob calls the robot “Mr. Roomba,” but Zoe is convinced it’s actually possessed and has dubbed it “Chucky.”

Since Bob retired, we’ve split the housework.  He’s in charge of floors, while I dust and clean the bathrooms.  With the faux wooden floors we have throughout the condo and the light coming in through the three sets of sliding glass doors, dust bunnies seem to be reproducing at an exaggerated rate.  Bob turned toward technology to replace his time behind the electric broom.  I’d be more satisfied with its performance if it did a better job on corners and mopped.  Probably the next generation will be so programmed.  (Now was I talking about roombas or men?)

Zoe has adapted pretty well to the robot now and usually escapes to our bed for a rest when she recognizes it has awakened.  However, since we moved a chaise lounge to the end of the bed, she has found another favorite place to nap.  It has long been my dream to have a fainting couch to snuggle in during the hours I spend reading, and this is a delightful luxury.  Luckily, Zoe shares it with me.  Bob, in jest, calls it the most expensive dog bed ever, and when I put our pole lamp with its three lights by it, he named it Zoe’s personal tanning couch.  She is unaware of all this though as she lays her head on the pillow and dreams of chasing the black squirrels.

Stormy weather

Our neighbor saw the vortex.  We stood stunned, unable to move even when we knew we should be concerned for our safety.   Large branches were flying off of the long-lived tree in front of the pier.  As the wind and rain increased, the right third of the tree began swaying almost rhythmically, its branches dipping close to the sand.  We expected to hear the crack and see it in repose on the ground.  Then, the storm increased in intensity, and we had no view at all.

This was the second storm of the morning.  The first, in the early hours, left us without electricity, without a way to brew coffee.  Seemed like a good idea to climb back in bed until the rain had stopped and the sun appeared.  Without access to computer or television, we read.

It was the darkness that alerted us to the approaching storm.  We had no other warning than the disappearing page.

Seventy to eighty mile-per-hour winds and two water spouts on Lake Macatawa were reported.  Our neighborhood had been ravaged.  Hundred-year-old trees lay fallen over electric lines, streets, houses, and cars, while the power plant was rendered impotent from a direct hit by a lightning bolt.  

It was Monday.  What an inauspicious way to begin a week.

Red velvet cake

Red velvet.  The cake.  The best cake in the world.  My love for this confection started some forty years ago when I dined at an antebellum home turned restaurant in Biloxi, Mississippi.  It has never wavered.

Red velvet.  The name as it’s spoken and the vision of velvet material prepare one for the exquisite taste and texture of this dessert.  It starts with four layers of Chocolate Devil’s Food cake made tender by the use of buttermilk and red by the addition of a generous amount of red food coloring.  Cream cheese frosting tops each of the layers and is to the eyes and the tongue a perfect counterbalance.

Does this delicacy represent a tug of war between good and evil?  Or is it simply a representation of both its deliciousness and amount of calories?  No matter, it is a dessert not to be missed.  A taste of heaven, I’m sure.

And now I just discovered that Marble Slab Creamery is offering red velvet ice cream.  Yes, it’s something that should be sampled.  Tonight.

The REAL joy of biking

Do you remember learning to ride your first bicycle?  My dad steadied me with a hold on the handlebars and seat and ran by my side as I pedaled down Coronado Drive.  It turned out that balancing  wasn’t difficult for me but learning to stop was.  Thankfully my father hadn’t become too winded by the time I was able to brake and put my feet down   For me, speed, distance, and freedom took on new meanings.  I imagine it does for all new bikers.

Last Sunday, at the Union Avenue Christian Church in Litchfield, IL, I was reminded of that adventure when a pediatrician spoke to the congregation about the five-day Tour d’Haiti that he and twenty-some other bike riders had participated in.  Over the course of 200 miles, the men visited Haitian children’s villages and gave away 200 Mongoose bicycles to orphaned and abandoned children.  The video presentation was heart-grabbing, while some of the statistics he shared were heart-wrenching.  For example, it’s estimated that there are over 250,000 orphans in Haiti, 100,000 in Cambodia, 85,000 in Chad, and nearly a million orphans or other vulnerable children in Rwanda.  These children need cared for, educated, and loved.

The Global Orphan Project (transforming lives through orphan care), www,globalorphanproject.org, is doing just that.  Although not affiliated with any denomination, the heart of this ministry is to “exist and operate as an expression of Jesus Christ’s radical love in a fallen world.”  It’s mission is based on James 1:27 Religion that God our father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Donations go to meet the critical unmet needs of children and for investment in agricultural and economic development to make local orphan care sustainable.  Donors can also sponsor a home or village. All administrative overhead and fund raising expenses have been covered by some very generous givers.

Please visit the web site and see this money at work  Then see how you can become involved.  You have the chance to be God’s hands and feet in a very concrete way.  You have the power to transform the lives of orphaned and abandoned children. 

Ruminations on my birthday--Part ll

My friends and relatives treated me royally on my special day.  I didn’t get any of those “over the hill” cards or ones that mentioned Metamucil, sagging boobs, or my memory.  The only card that I received with a “60” on it came from my Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Eugene and actually raised my spirits.  It read, “60 is about feeling excited to be alive at a time when you’re free to really live.  60 is about knowing yourself--and truly liking who you’ve become.  But most of all, 60 is about celebrating the beginning of the most beautiful years of your life.  Enjoy.”  Reading that, who wouldn’t be glad to be 60?

My other cards mentioned growing mellow with good wine, having a day filled with delicious moments, and my being a blessing (okay, that may be a stretch).  Best of all, Jeremiah (my grandson) and his significant other, Betsy, even gave me permission to “Be naughty.”  My Facebook wall was filled with well wishes--all from people very precious to me.  Presents?

I was showered with presents, ones that reflected my interests--from the latest Anne Lamott book, to food given to a church food pantry in my name, to a pair of handmade earrings, to chocolate covered strawberries.  I loved every single thing I received.  Paula asked me what Bob gave me.  It wasn’t jewelry or an exotic trip; it was something better.

Bob gave me a girls’ week in Holland with my best friend from H.S., Barbara.  I had not seen her for three years, and I ached to be with her.  Had there been a prize for “Worst 2010,” she would have won it, and I needed to see with my own eyes that she was surviving and healing.

In addition, there is something very special about friends from childhood.  They are usually among the few who knew us when we were young (before we had a career or made families of our own) and who knew our birth families.  As B. Kathleen Fannin says in Reverence and Revelry, “They can reflect to us who we used to be so that we better understand who we have become,” or as George Herbert said, “The best mirror is an old friend.”

Actually Barbara is even more than that.  Her husband has labeled us “identical best friends,” and I think he’s spot on.  Our personalities, strengths, and interests are very similar.

Our time together was delightful as we shared old favorites such as “Steak & Shake” and found some new.  Most mornings we sat in front of our computers, awakening slowly with our first cups of coffee, before we decided whether to have a quiet or adventurous day.  It was a balanced week.  On my birthday, she put a white bow around her neck, and we had a great laugh--one of many.  The end of the week arrived, and it was difficult to part.

This wasn’t the end of my celebration.  There was birthday cake and candles with Lana and Kent when we briefly returned to Savoy, and I’m hoping to share time--and perhaps, wine, chocolate, and cake--with friends and family in the next few months.  Perhaps 60 is a good time to have fellowship with all those one loves.

John O’Donohue in Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom speaks about the autumn time of life being “a time of great gathering…a time for harvesting the fruits of your experiences…gathering lost moments and experiences, bringing them together and holding them as one.”  He suggests that one “come to see aging not as the demise of your body but as the harvest of your soul…”  I wonder what that will look like?  I wonder if this is part of my increased yearning for God?  I wonder if this is part of my need to write?

I hope it will be a good harvest.

War no more

I have signed petitions and sent e-mails to President Obama, but these group actions seem to have had little impact toward ending the war in Afghanistan and ending our occupation of that country.  Please read this wonderful column by Jim Walls.  What can we each do to effectively change current policy and bring our troops home?


The War Must Not Go On!

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Last evening, President Obama made his long-awaited announcement on beginning withdrawal of the 103,000 U.S. troops from Afghanistan. The president announced that 10,000 of these troops will be withdrawn by the end of this year, starting in July, and 23,000 more by the end of summer 2012. That will leave approximately 70,000 troops in Afghanistan, roughly double the number of troops (34,000) when he took office in 2008. The president said these remaining troops will be withdrawn “at a steady pace” going into 2014.

But that’s not good enough. President Obama had an opportunity to pivot his policy on the war in Afghanistan -- to focus on the still real threats of terrorism, rather than on failed wars of occupation with massive numbers of troops on the ground. Public opinion polls now consistently show that 50 to 60 percent of the American people want the troops to come home. Two-hundred-four members of the House, from both parties, voted in late May for the McGovern-Jones amendment -- which calls for an accelerated withdrawal and a responsible exit from Afghanistan. Two members of Congress, Jim McGovern and Walter Jones, one Democrat and one Republican, were the authors of that measure and have been the real leaders of political and moral conscience on this war. Twenty-eight bipartisan senators also called for an accelerated withdrawal in a recent letter to the president. A wide array of political leaders, from both parties -- including senators Carl Levin, Max Baucus, and Richard Lugar, and Republican presidential candidates Jon Huntsman, Mitt Romney, and Ron Paul -- are expressing reservations about the war strategy. Obama could have built on these changes in public opinion and announced a dramatic change in war policy for Afghanistan. But last night, he did not.

We constantly hear the message, “Support the troops.” It’s on bumper stickers, at ball games, and on banners in airports. As a Christian who opposed the two wars our troops have been fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq, I can say that I do support the troops. They are primarily young, from lower-income and working families, who in the current economy have few other options. The military promised them the opportunity for a job, training, and perhaps the chance go to college on their return. But that promise to young people with few other options came at a high price. So far, 1,552 Americans have died in the war in Afghanistan; 11,200 have been wounded. In one study of the 300,000 returning veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan who sought help from Veterans Affairs health centers, nearly 37 percent of those treated for the first time were suffering from mental health problems such as post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, or alcohol problems. These problems too often result in suicide. During the first half of 2009, more American soldiers committed suicide than were killed in combat in Afghanistan and Iraq. In June 2010, an average of one soldier a day committed suicide. Furthermore, 11 percent of Iraq and Afghanistan veterans are unemployed.

Of course, there are very few children of members of Congress, or of finance and business executives, in the military. Those who run the country are not sending their children to fight the wars they continue to prolong. Frankly, war is good business for those who run the military-industrial complex that former President Eisenhower warned us about. Generals always recommend more war because it’s their business. It gets them promotions and advances their careers. And they often distort the facts to stay in business -- claiming progress in order to justify continued war -- when there really is no significant progress at all. Meanwhile, more young people get killed or damaged for the rest of their lives, and the cost for so many innocents is even higher. That can simply no longer be justified in Afghanistan.

The president acknowledged and honored the sacrifice of the troops, and said we need to shift from nation-building in Afghanistan to nation-building at home. But the meager reduction of troops he announced last night simply doesn’t support either goal. I heard on Morning Joe this morning that John McCain has more staff on Capitol Hill than the CIA reports al Qaeda now has in Afghanistan. And the threat of Bin Laden was not ended by the war in Afghanistan, but by focused intelligence and counter-terrorism in Pakistan. Yet, after the president’s announcement last night, the United States will still have nearly 100,000 troops in Afghanistan for the rest of this year, and will spend more than $100 billion in the coming year. It seems the war in Afghanistan will go on and on and on.

To truly support the troops who are fighting and dying in Afghanistan, we must commit our resources where they are most needed. We must make the courageous decision to end the war in Afghanistan much faster than the president called for last night. Incremental and gradual drawdowns of troops over many years is not the correct response to a failed war. We needed a pivot to a new policy last night -- but we didn’t get it.

The president’s decision to finish his first term with twice as many U.S. troops in Afghanistan as when he took office is a political and moral mistake. This week, nearly 40 religious leaders delivered a letter to the White House saying “we are united in the belief that it is time to bring the U.S. war in Afghanistan to an end.” We must now build on that to mobilize resistance to the war across the religious community. It’s time for the faith community to help lead the movement that will bring this unnecessary and unjust war to an end. The president’s message last night was “the war goes on.” Our message on Afghanistan must be: War No More.

About a dad

Glenn Russell Bandy

May 6, 1925 - December 26, 2008

Glenn Russell Bandy, 83, of Champaign passed away at 3:10 p.m. on Friday, Dec. 26, 2008, at Carle Foundation Hospital, Urbana.

My words at my dad's funeral

For a funeral, I usually try to fight my Reubenesque body into Spanx or at least control top panty hose.  What a relief not to be in that position today.  My dad liked to be comfortable.  He liked lounging in his PJ’s and wearing elastic waist slacks.  I come by it honestly!  He didn’t even wear a tie to prom, much to my mother’s chagrin.  Ah, yes, also an example of his Taurus stubbornness.

And you may have noticed that we’re not having music at his funeral.  As my dad’s hearing worsened, his interest in music waned.  However, he was never a big fan, and now you know why our family attended the first service (choirless) at University Place Christian Church.

I shared a deep bond with my dad.  I once asked my mother why I didn’t have any siblings, and she said that my dad didn’t think he could love another child as much as he loved me.  I don’t think that’s true.  His heart was filled with love.

My dad and mom were married when they were only nineteen.  I have never seen a man love a woman so devotedly as my dad loved my mom for over sixty years.  Every single time he looked at her, it seemed like he fell in love with her again.  It was incredible to witness and also an incredible example.

My dad’s love was deep for everyone in his birth family.  I never heard cross words between any of them. As I was growing up, we would drive to Litchfield at least one weekend each month, also stopping to visit my mother’s siblings' families in Decatur and Taylorville.  These family experiences shaped me and gave me the “sisters” (cousins) that I so need today.

I have heard that my dad slept with his younger brother in his arm.  My dad was protective of his brother, Bill, and I think never outgrew that feeling.  In my dad’s mind he was convinced that he was taller than Bill when, in fact,  Brother Bill had grown taller than my dad many years earlier.  Those two brothers were Cubs’ fans and remained eternally optimistic that “this would be the year!”

I think one of the reasons that my dad and I have been so close is because of the agoraphobia, anxiety, and panic attacks my mother suffered from the time I was seven until after I was married, when medication was finally developed to completely control her condition.

He was a rock for me.  Stable.  Someone to lean on.  When the doctor informed us that I would have to wear a back brace for my scoliosis, I ran to his arms.

And how he sacrificed.  My father hated to shop and, yet, on Friday evenings after supper, during my elementary school years, he would give me one dollar and take me shopping in downtown Champaign.  I didn’t spend that dollar quickly.  I had to slowly walk the aisles at Kresgees,  Grants, Walgreen’s, well, you get the picture.  I often ended up with those little candles that were made in different shapes for the holidays.

My father was blessed with the coordination of a great athlete.  He pitched at age 15, left-handed, of course, on a men’s team and could have signed a contract with the minor leagues.  He was also a great basketball player.

I, on the other hand, was a reader and not a player, but he never seemed a bit disappointed.  He started taking me to the Illini football games when I was ten.  He taught me the rules, explained the plays, and made me an enthusiastic college football spectator.  Even now, during the fall, I am parked on the couch at 11:00 a.m. and try not to move until the last televised game is over.  We also went to many Illini basketball games, even at Huff Hall, where I saw more pillars than players.

Besides sports, my dad was a whiz at math.  He could do those parlor games, like add huge numbers together without writing them down.  He was also a great bridge and pinochle player, because he remembered every card played.  It was a challenge being his partner, worse being his foe.

My dad was a member of  Tom Brokaw’s Greatest Generation, a man who served in the Army in World War II.  He scored so highly on the IQ tests that on the ship over to France his job was to teach the other soldiers French.  My dad didn’t know a word of it!  I can’t imagine my dad as a soldier.  He didn’t like to hunt and wouldn’t even have another dog after he had to have our dear 15-year-old Susie put down.

I definitely got my love of dogs from my dad.  Trixie and Pal were two of his more than 25 furry friends.  Sadly there were no leash laws when he grew up and too many found themselves victims of train wheels.

Talking about things my dad loved, dessert is near the top.  A restaurant buffet lost money on him.  From pudding to pie to ice cream to cake, he would have it all.  This past year, everyone really indulged his sweet tooth.  And when I visited at the Arbours‘ Court, right after he greeted me, he would ask what I had brought for "coffee break!"  I bet you’re seeing a lot of similarities between my dad and me.

When I was a young girl, a woman commented to me (in front of my mother), “You look so much like your mother.”  My reply, “Have you met my father?”

I loved my dad’s twinkling blue eyes.  Behind them was a dry sense of humor that was with him to the end, despite his dementia.  He enjoyed bantering and teasing.  He was also quite gracious and accompanied us to the door at the end of every visit.

I never saw my dad lie or cheat, not even on taxes.  He was the first to lend a hand to others.  He never worshipped money or his work and was not ambitious.  His priority was those he loved.

Last night I was reading through the Psalms and realized that it is by my dad’s example that I am able to understand and rejoice in the love of our Heavenly Father.  As the Psalmist says:
    But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God,
    Slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.  --Psalm 86:15

    The works of his hands are faithful and just. --Psalm 111:7

My dad never talked of dying but did believe that all of his days had been written in a book.   (All the days ordained for me were written in your book  --Psalm 139:16.)  His dementia laid waste to his body and mind, but my dad’s love never failed.

The last few days in the hospital my dad’s voice was weak, his body seemed agitated, and I could rarely understand his words.  But when we left Christmas evening, he kissed me, hugged me and said he loved me, and then looked at Bob and told him that he loved him too.

In the manner that we always parted, I said, “See you later, alligator,” and he replied, “After while, crocodile.”  Those were his last words.  A wonderful, no, the perfect, Christmas gift.

HAVE FAITH. END HUNGER.

All of us are solicited, seemingly all of the time, by charities that want (and need) our dollars.  It is difficult to say "no" to any of them, but Bob and I made a decision long ago that we would focus our giving on fighting hunger.   Elaine, my friend, writing partner and spiritual mentor, introduced me to an organization that shares that purpose.  It is called Bread for the World.  Please read the information below from its website, www.bread.org. 
 

In the contemporary United States, few can rival the voice and energy of Bread for the World, a citizens' group inspired by its Christian faith to lead the cause to end hunger.

                                                                 — World Bank Report

Who We Are

 

Bread for the World is a collective Christian voice urging our nation’s decision makers to end hunger at home and abroad.

By changing policies, programs, and conditions that allow hunger and poverty to persist, we provide help and opportunity far beyond the communities where we live.

We can end hunger in our time. Everyone, including our government, must do their part.


With the stroke of a pen, policies are made that redirect millions of dollars and affect millions of lives.
 

By making our voices heard in Congress, we make our nation’s laws more fair and compassionate to people in need.

What We Do

 

Bread for the World members write personal letters and emails and meet with our members of Congress.

Working through our churches, campuses, and other organizations, we engage more people in advocacy.

Each year, Bread for the World invites churches across the country to take up a nationwide Offering of Letters to Congress on an issue that is important to hungry and poor people.

As a non-profit, Bread for the World works in a bipartisan way. Our network of thousands of individual members, churches, and denominations ensures Bread’s presence in all U.S. congressional districts.

Together, we build the political commitment needed to overcome hunger and poverty.

How You Can Help

 

God's grace in Jesus Christ moves us to help our neighbors, whether they live in the next house, the next state, or the next continent.

Confronting the problem of hunger can seem overwhelming.

What can one person do? 

Plenty—and Bread for the World can help.
________________________________________________

Please go to the website and sign "The Memo from the Boss" (we, the voters, are the bosses of the legislative members) asking them not to balance the budget on the backs of those most in need.  Thank you. 

Ruminations on my birthday - Part One

Yes, celebrating a birthday is better than the alternative but moving into a new decade can be a bit off-putting.
Born in 1951, my attitudes (and life purpose) bear the marks of the civil rights and peace protests.  Having never trusted anyone over 30, it was difficult to realize that in 1981, working for the State Board of Education, I had become a part of the establishment.  However,  my passion was satisfied with my charge of watching over the rights of all the special education students in the state.  The world around me was entering a new phase with all the technological advances--the first flight on the Space Station Columbia, the first time the word Internet was mentioned, the release of the first IBM PC.  (The cost of a gallon of gas was $1.25.)

Ten years later, I was a married woman of six years praying for David’s safety in Desert Storm.  In late summer, with the birth of Andrew, I became a grandmother, a very young grandmother.  Amy had finished her freshman year at ISU.  One million people were hooked up to the Internet and a web browser was invented.  Globally there were changes I never thought I would live to see--the Soviet Union ceased to exist and after years of Apartheid, South Africa formed a new constitution for a multiracial society.  (The cost of a gallon of gas dropped to $1.12).

When I turned fifty, we’d been living in our house in Savoy for a year and Zoe was nearing her first birthday.  Of course the most memorable events of that year were the terrorist attacks on our country, the start of the War on Terrorism, the invasion of Afghanistan, and the cessation of easy airplane travel.  Technologically, Wikipedia went on-line and Apple released the iPod.  (The cost of gas was $1.46.)

I am amazed at the changes in my life since that last decade birthday.  Bob retired and became a cancer survivor.  We are now orphans, free to travel at will…and we do!  I celebrated fifty years of friendship with Muffy and that led to the purchase of a condo in Holland, MI.  I was even paid to write editorials for a local newspaper.  Historically, our country finally elected an Afro-American president.  But, to my dismay, the U.S. is involved in multiple wars, elected officials are controlled by business, business is trying to break the unions, greed reigns on Wall Street, and federal and state spending is out of control.  (The cost of gas has almost tripled.)

A Green Revolution

Between now and 2020, the world's going to add another billion people. And their resource demands--at every level--are going to be enormous. I tell the story in the book how, if we give each one of the next billion people on the planet just one sixty-watt incandescent light bulb, what it will mean: the answer is that it will require about 20 new 500-megawatt coal-burning power plants. That's so they can each turn on just one light bulb!   --Thomas Friedman, Hot, Flat, and Crowded: Why We Need a Green Revolution--and How It Can Renew America

A challenge and an opportunity!

Fareed Zakaria, on his Sunday morning show, mentioned his latest book: The Post-American World (Release 2.0).  When I looked it up on Amazon, I found this very interesting discussion between Thomas Friedman  and Zakaria.  Do you think it's time for a "green revolution?"  Read on...

Thomas Friedman and Fareed Zakaria: Author One-to-One

Fareed Zakaria: Your book is about two things, the climate crisis and also about an American crisis. Why do you link the two? Thomas Friedman: You're absolutely right--it is about two things. The book says, America has a problem and the world has a problem. The world's problem is that it's getting hot, flat and crowded and that convergence--that perfect storm--is driving a lot of negative trends. America's problem is that we've lost our way--we've lost our groove as a country. And the basic argument of the book is that we can solve our problem by taking the lead in solving the world's problem. Zakaria: Explain what you mean by "hot, flat and crowded." Friedman: There is a convergence of basically three large forces: one is global warming, which has been going on at a very slow pace since the industrial revolution; the second--what I call the flattening of the world--is a metaphor for the rise of middle-class citizens, from China to India to Brazil to Russia to Eastern Europe, who are beginning to consume like Americans. That's a blessing in so many ways--it's a blessing for global stability and for global growth. But it has enormous resource complications, if all these people--whom you've written about in your book, The Post American World--begin to consume like Americans. And lastly, global population growth simply refers to the steady growth of population in general, but at the same time the growth of more and more people able to live this middle-class lifestyle. Between now and 2020, the world's going to add another billion people. And their resource demands--at every level--are going to be enormous. I tell the story in the book how, if we give each one of the next billion people on the planet just one sixty-watt incandescent light bulb, what it will mean: the answer is that it will require about 20 new 500-megawatt coal-burning power plants. That's so they can each turn on just one light bulb! Zakaria: In my book I talk about the "rise of the rest" and about the reality of how this rise of new powerful economic nations is completely changing the way the world works. Most everyone's efforts have been devoted to Kyoto-like solutions, with the idea of getting western countries to reduce their carbon dioxide emissions. But I grew to realize that the West was a sideshow. India and China will build hundreds of coal-fire power plants in the next ten years and the combined carbon dioxide emissions of those new plants alone are five times larger than the savings mandated by the Kyoto accords. What do you do with the Indias and Chinas of the world? Friedman: I think there are two approaches. There has to be more understanding of the basic unfairness they feel. They feel like we sat down, had the hors d'oeuvres, ate the entrée, pretty much finished off the dessert, invited them for tea and coffee and then said, "Let's split the bill." So I understand the big sense of unfairness--they feel that now that they have a chance to grow and reach with large numbers a whole new standard of living, we're basically telling them, "Your growth, and all the emissions it would add, is threatening the world's climate." At the same time, what I say to them--what I said to young Chinese most recently when I was just in China is this: Every time I come to China, young Chinese say to me, "Mr. Friedman, your country grew dirty for 150 years. Now it's our turn." And I say to them, "Yes, you're absolutely right, it's your turn. Grow as dirty as you want. Take your time. Because I think we probably just need about five years to invent all the new clean power technologies you're going to need as you choke to death, and we're going to come and sell them to you. And we're going to clean your clock in the next great global industry. So please, take your time. If you want to give us a five-year lead in the next great global industry, I will take five. If you want to give us ten, that would be even better. In other words, I know this is unfair, but I am here to tell you that in a world that's hot, flat and crowded, ET--energy technology--is going to be as big an industry as IT--information technology. Maybe even bigger. And who claims that industry--whose country and whose companies dominate that industry--I think is going to enjoy more national security, more economic security, more economic growth, a healthier population, and greater global respect, for that matter, as well. So you can sit back and say, it's not fair that we have to compete in this new industry, that we should get to grow dirty for a while, or you can do what you did in telecommunications, and that is try to leap-frog us. And that's really what I'm saying to them: this is a great economic opportunity. The game is still open. I want my country to win it--I'm not sure it will. Zakaria: I'm struck by the point you make about energy technology. In my book I'm pretty optimistic about the United States. But the one area where I'm worried is actually ET. We do fantastically in biotech, we're doing fantastically in nanotechnology. But none of these new technologies have the kind of system-wide effect that information technology did. Energy does. If you want to find the next technological revolution you need to find an industry that transforms everything you do. Biotechnology affects one critical aspect of your day-to-day life, health, but not all of it. But energy--the consumption of energy--affects every human activity in the modern world. Now, my fear is that, of all the industries in the future, that's the one where we're not ahead of the pack. Are we going to run second in this race? Friedman: Well, I want to ask you that, Fareed. Why do you think we haven't led this industry, which itself has huge technological implications? We have all the secret sauce, all the technological prowess, to lead this industry. Why do you think this is the one area--and it's enormous, it's actually going to dwarf all the others--where we haven't been at the real cutting edge? Zakaria: I think it's not about our economic system but our political system. The rhetoric we hear is that the market should produce new energy technologies. But the problem is, the use of current forms of energy has an existing infrastructure with very powerful interests that has ensured that the government tilt the playing field in their favor, with subsidies, tax breaks, infrastructure spending, etc. This is one area where the Europeans have actually been very far-sighted and have pushed their economies toward the future. Friedman: I would say that's exactly right. It's the Europeans--and the Japanese as well--who've done it, and they've done it because of the government mechanisms you've highlighted. They have understood that, if you just say the market alone will deliver the green revolution we need, basically three things happen and none of them are good: First, the market will drive up the price to whatever level demand dictates. We saw oil hit $145 a barrel, and when that happens the oil-producing countries capture most of the profit, 90% of it. So, some of the worst regimes in the world enjoy the biggest benefits from the market run-up. The second thing that happens is that the legacy oil, gas and coal companies get the other ten percent of the profit--so companies which have no interest in changing the system get stronger. And the third thing that happens is something that doesn't happen: because you're letting the market alone shape the prices, the market price can go up and down very quickly. So, those who want to invest in the alternatives really have to worry that if they make big investments, the market price for oil may fall back on them before their industry has had a chance to move down the learning curve and make renewable energies competitive with oil. Sure, the market can drive oil to $145 a barrel and at that level wind or solar may be very competitive. But what if two months later oil is at $110 a barrel? Because of that uncertainty, because we have not put a floor price under oil, you have the worst of all worlds, which is a high price of dirty fuels--what I call in the book fuels from hell--and low investment in new clean fuels, the fuels from heaven. Yes, some people are investing in the alternatives, but not as many or as much as you think, because they are worried that without a floor price for crude oil, their investments in the alternatives could get wiped out, which is exactly what happened in the 1980s after the first oil shock. That's why you need the government to come in a reshape the market to make the cost of dirty fuels more expensive and subsidize the price of clean fuels until they can become competitive. Right now we are doing just the opposite. Bush and Cheney may say the oil market is “free,” but that is a joke. It's dominated by the world's biggest cartel, OPEC, and America's biggest energy companies, and they've shaped this market to serve their interests. Unless government comes in and reshapes it, we're never going to launch this industry. Which is one of the reasons I argue in the book, "Change your leaders, not your light bulbs." Because leaders write rules, rules shape markets, markets give you scale. Without scale, without being able to generate renewable energy at scale, you have nothing. All you have is a hobby. Everything we've doing up to now is pretty much a hobby. I like hobbies--I used to build model airplanes as a kid. But I don't try to change the world as a hobby. And that's basically what we're trying to do. Zakaria: But aren't we in the midst of a green revolution? Every magazine I pick up tells me ten different ways to get more green. Hybrids are doing very well... Friedman: What I always say to people when they say to me, "We're having a green revolution" is, "Really? A green revolution! Have you ever been to a revolution where no one got hurt? That's the green revolution." In the green revolution, everyone's a winner: BP's green, Exxon's green, GM's green. When everyone's a winner, that's not a revolution--actually, that's a party. We're having a green party. And it's very fun--you and I get invited to all the parties. But it has no connection whatsoever with a real revolution. You'll know it's a revolution when somebody gets hurt. And I don't mean physically hurt. But the IT revolution was a real revolution. In the IT revolution, companies either had to change or die. So you'll know the green revolution is happening when you see some bodies--corporate bodies--along the side of the road: companies that didn't change and therefore died. Right now we don't have that kind of market, that kind of change-or-die situation. Right now companies feel like they can just change their brand, not actually how they do business, and that will be enough to survive. That's why we're really having more of a green party than a green revolution. Zakaria: One of your chapters is called "Outgreening Al-Qaeda." Explain what you mean. Friedman: The chapter is built around the green hawks in the Pentagon. They began with a marine general in Iraq, who basically cabled back one day and said, I need renewable power here. Things like solar energy. And the reaction of the Pentagon was, "Hey, general, you getting a little green out there? You're not going sissy on us are you? Too much sun?" And he basically said, "No, don't you guys get it? I have to provision outposts along the Syrian border. They are off the grid. They run on generators with diesel fuel. I have to truck diesel fuel from Kuwait to the Syrian border at $20 a gallon delivered cost. And that's if my trucks don't get blown up by insurgents along the way. If I had solar power, I wouldn't have to truck all this fuel. I could—this is my term, not his—‘outgreen' Al-Qaeda." I argue in the chapter that "outgreening"--the ability to deploy, expand, innovate and grow renewable energy and clean power--is going to become one of the most important, if not the most important, sources of competitive advantage for a company, for a country, for a military. You're going to know the cost of your fuel, it's going to be so much more distributed, you will be so much more flexible, and--this is quite important, Fareed--you will also become so much more respected. I hear from law firms today: one law firm has a green transport initiative going for its staff--they only use hybrid cars--another one doesn't. If some law student out of Harvard or Yale is weighing which law firm to join--many will say today: "I think I'll go with the green one." So there are a lot of ways in which you can outgreen your competition. I think "outgreening" is going to become an important verb in the dictionary - between "outfox" and "outmaneuver." Zakaria: Finally, let me ask you--in that context--what would this do to America's image, if we were to take on this challenge? Do you really think it could change the way America is perceived in the world? Friedman: I have no doubt about it, which is why I say in the book: I'm not against Kyoto; if you can get 190 countries all to agree on verifiable limits on their carbon, God bless you. But at the end of the day, I really still believe--and I know you do too--in America as a model. Your book stresses this--that even in a post-American world we still are looked at by others around the world as a role model. I firmly believe that if we go green--if we prove that we can become healthy, secure, respected, entrepreneurial, richer and more innovative by greening our economy, many more people will follow us voluntarily than would do so by compulsion of a treaty. Does that mean Russia and Iran will? No. Geopolitics won't disappear. But I think it will, speaking broadly, definitely reposition us in the world with more people in more places. I look at making America the greenest country in the world like running the Olympic triathlon: if you make it to the Olympics and you run the race, maybe you win--but even if you don't win, you're fitter, healthier, more secure, more respected, more competitive and entrepreneurial, because you have given birth to a whole new clean power industry--which has to be the next great global industry--and put your economy on a much more sustainable footing. So to me, this is a win-win-win-win race, and that's why I believe we, America, need to take the lead in it. In the Cold War we had the space race with Russia to see who could be the first to put a man on the moon. Today we need an earth race with Japan, Europe, China and India--to see who can be the first to invent the clean power technologies that will allow man to live safely and sustainably on earth.

The water and light

When you first open the door into our condo on Lake Macatawa in Holland, MI, there is only one thing you see--the water.  Your eyes and then your feet are drawn right through the living space to the lake only steps beyond.  This not only happens the first time, but every time.  Seemingly with magnetic pull, it is God's creation that is the star, or as those on HGTV would say, "The focal point."  The light is another gift.

At this northern latitude (42.49 degrees north), we enjoy more hours of daylight in Holland than we do in central Illinois (40.08 degrees north).  As we near the summer solstice, sunrise occurs just after 6:00 a.m. and sunset is near 9:30 p.m..  Where the condo building is situated, there are times in the morning and evening when the light passes over the pier and her boats in a breath-holding beauty.

Leaning over the condo's balcony railing with a gentle wind caressing my face, my mind free falls.  Like meditation, random thoughts enter consciousness only to be driven away by a reigning peacefulness.  Bob said that when the real estate agent first brought us here and he saw the look on my face as I stood on the balcony, he knew it was the place for us.  (Yes, I have a most wonderful husband.)

Water and light, God's creation on days three and four of the Genesis story, feed my inner self just as much as sun and rain grow our plants.  God makes good things and shares them abundantly.  Life is good.  Amen.

How can...?

"How can a country justify firing both missiles and school teachers?"

From Henry Alford's review of When God Was a Rabbit in the NYT, 6-3-11

Doggie sick bay X two

Many years ago I did some contractual work for the State of Illinois as it considered offering a cafeteria plan of benefits for its employees to choose from.  It was interesting and fun to investigate all the possibilities.  One I included was canine insurance.  We could have used it with our third Zeiders' dog.

Had we possessed insurance for Puddy and Belle, dogs one and two, we would have lost money.  Other than a teeth cleaning or two, they made their annual visits to the vet and no more.  It has been a different story with Zoe.

It began when Zoe was only one and stepped over a hose.  Now she wasn't doing some fancy football move or fast cutting on a wet obstacle course, but in that one step she became a three-legged dog due to a tear of her ACL (anterior cruciate ligament).  She had surgery at the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic and was kept quiet for six weeks.  The cost?  Over one thousand dollars.

Our regular vet retired, and the next time we visited the office,  we were assigned a just-graduated-from-vet-school veterinarian.  He struck fear into us as he described Zoe's "heart condition," which included an enlarged heart, a murmur, and more!  We immediately arranged an appointment with the doggie cardiologist at the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic.  We were reassured with good news.  Small dogs have large hearts (well, I could have told him that...only he meant "on x-ray"), and her murmur was only evident when she was stressed and her rate was elevated.  That unnecessary visit cost us a couple of hundred dollars.  We changed vet clinics because Zoe said, " Let the new guy practice on someone else."

Things settled down for a while, until Zoe tore the ACL in her other back leg.  We followed our vet's (two female veterinarians own this office) advice and didn't have it repaired.  The vet had done the same with her dog.  Zoe quickly bore weight on it and was doomed to arthritis with or without the surgery.  Although she never remembers she has limitations and has to make it home, she still wants to strike out on a big walk and thinks nothing of a carry back.  Her hind legs may not be the best formed in the neighborhood, but she does have a cute little bottom that sashayes down the sidewalk.

Now she is almost eleven, and the years are catching up with her.  She has recently been diagnosed with high blood pressure and early kidney failure.  Worst of all, she is suffering from a large ulcer on her left eye.  She had one last summer in the right eye, and it healed.  We thought little of it.  This time it started to heal and then got worse.  Time to go...see the doggie ophthalmologist... at the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic.  Are you seeing dollar signs?  It was an impressive consult that included treatment...and a contact lens.  The lens was $70 and the appointment over three hundred.

Oh why, oh why, didn't we consider doggie health insurance???

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Snickers (who is Lana and Kent's dog...but has stolen our hearts) has been having serious digestive issues.  She has been to...the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic Emergency Room once and to her regular vet (same clinic we use) almost daily for over a week.  Finally her diagnosis has become clear--pancreatitis.  Poor baby, she's "sicker than a dog."  (Now, how did we ever get that figure of speech?)  I bet Lana is pondering her lack of doggie health insurance too.

Imagine if these two were little old ladies instead of dogs.  Can't you see them rocking on the front porch talking of little else but their ailments?  Trying to top the other with the severity of their complaints?  Snickers would be talking about her bowels and not being able to enjoy the foods she used to love, and Zoe would be saying that was nothing compared to having an eye that hurt, having to wear dark glasses, and being mistaken for Stevie Wonder.  Then they'd both rock for a while longer and chat about the possibility of universal health insurance.

It's humorous to consider that scenario, but that isn't the way I view either of these dogs.  They will always be babies to me--vulnerable, unable to "tell where it hurts," dependent.  No matter what the cost, they'll be cared for medically until their passing or until their bad days outweigh the good.

Now, for the end of the story.  What does a physician do after he retires?  He runs doggie sick bay--giving out spoonfuls of water, lying down so "the girls" will rest, leading them on short walks.  His compassion knows no bounds, but his view of his financial spreadsheet still brings to his mind that issue of insurance...

I am back

I am back in the United States and have been since the 13th of May.  The clothes are washed and the travel items stowed for another yet-to-be planned adventure, and Lana, Kent and Snickers have taken up temporary quarters with us.  They are between houses, and it’s a lot of fun sharing the kitchen with them.  Being a child of the 60’s, communal life has always appealed to me.  Now, this isn’t exactly that, more like friends without benefits!  I’d make it permanent, but they’re eager to find their own space.  I tell them, “No hurry.”

Remember when Memorial Day was called “Decoration Day?”

Yesterday, Bob went with Kathy, Dave, and Jack to a morning ceremony at Grandview Cemetery and then placed some of our garden peonies in a vase on Mark’s stone.  Cousin Mark would now be in his early forties, but instead will never age and always remain a twenty-year-old in our memories.  Afterward we gathered for a hamburger and brats cook-out, with Kent manning the grill, and David cutting the watermelon.  Following a dessert of vanilla ice cream topped with blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream, the family went to my parents’ graves.  A flag had been placed by my dad’s Army foot stone, and Bob swept the lawn-mower clippings from the stones.  Once more, we left a bouquet of pink garden peonies in remembrance.

I haven’t yet gotten used to family meals without two more places at the table.  I had a heavy heart as I set the table and made other preparations.  I clipped a variety of flowers from the garden for the centerpiece, including two fragrant yellow roses--my mother’s favorite.  However, once the party started, I was able to live in the moment, to enjoy the blessing of fellowship with family and friends.

Weren’t we supposed to be in Holland for Memorial Day weekend?  Yes!  Seems God had other plans.  The day before we returned from our trip, Lana had taken Zoe to the vet, and she was diagnosed with an ulcer on her eye.  Unfortunately this didn’t heal like her one on the other eye did last summer, and we took her to the University of Illinois Small Animal Clinic for further evaluation.  What an ordeal for our sweet girl.  The vets (three students, one resident, and an attending) told us that she has an autoimmune condition that has caused this.  With Q-tips and a diamond file, Zoe’s ulcer was debrided and a contact lens put over the injury to help with the pain.  And the worst?  She was sent home with a “collar of shame.”  She was the party dog with the lampshade on, but she didn’t feel like that.  She hated it.  We suffered through it for two days, and then took it off when she insisted it was ruining her life.  There was also more bad news as her latest blood work showed she has high blood pressure and early kidney disease.  As we have found out, being a senior citizen (Zoe will turn 11 in August) is not for sissies.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.  That summed up our almost five week trip.  The first cruise we took was on a riverboat that took us down the Saone and Rhone rivers in France--through the Burgundy and Provence regions--ending in Nice.  We had a few days to decompress there--enjoy the old town and again visit Eze--before we joined a second cruise on a 4-masted sailing ship that took us along the French and Italian Riviera, to Corsica and Sardinia, ending with a few days in Rome.  Stay tuned for more about our journey!

A bientot

We're off on an adventure, and my blog will be on hiatus until mid-May.

What a glorious day it was today, with sunny skies, seventy-some degrees, and a gentle breeze.  Bob, Zoe, and I went to the cemetery to decorate my parents' graves for Easter.  I had everything I needed to leave the artificial flowers in a pleasing way, but I never seem to remember to bring maintenance tools.  I took a big wet sponge to wash off the bench and stones, but I could have used a rake to gather up the leaves and clippers to neaten up around the headstone and my dad's military plaque.  The daylilies planted behind the bench had emerged and look very healthy.

When I go to the cemetery, I think about my mother's stories of how her family would spend Saturdays at the cemetery tending to all the family graves and stones.  I  like the feeling of just being one of many across the generations who have shown their love for family through this simple task, honoring the memory of those who came before.

Bob took Zoe on a long walk through the cemetery, giving me time to rest on the bench and reflect, after I had tended the graves.  Bob returned and sat next to me, and Zoe settled on the graves.  First she rested near where my mother's left arm would be, and then she stretched out by my dad's side.  It was almost as if she knew what she was doing.  It was a sweet thing for Bob and I to carry in our hearts.

My identical best friend

Barbara entered Uni High School as a freshman, just a year after me, and joined the Class of '68.  I truthfully don't remember how we became such good friends, although it could have been our love of French, which we started that year.  But it also could have been some divinely-implanted magnet that drew our souls together.

One of the things I have appreciated the most is that Barbara stood by my side while I was wearing my back brace for scoliosis.  The brace, a cumbersome odd-looking instrument of torture, transformed me into an introspective girl, not the outgoing one I had been, and also brought me unwanted attention.  (I was really blessed that Uni students never once teased about me about my “otherness,” nor was I isolated.  But I digress!)

Barbara and I lived through the usual angst of being teenagers, but we lived through it together.  We rode our bikes all over town and enjoyed games of tennis on the university courts.  We walked the few blocks to our church most mornings our senior year and played countless games of pool.  When we were old enough, one or the other of us drove a convertible, and we cruised by the houses of  “boys of interest,” hoping they would be outside wanting to cruise with us.  It was our photograph that was in the local newspaper when we graduated.

We attended the University of Illinois, majoring in elementary education.  At our former principal’s request, we participated in a program that allowed us into the elementary classroom immediately, but most importantly showed us what it was like to be an Afro-American of the same age.  We were immersed in the black culture as the Civil Rights Movement was just beginning to ramp up.

Barbara remembers an incident that I had shut out about us being accused of cheating in one of our later education classes.  We had not.  After years of studying together and having the same high school and college experiences, our work had simply become very similar.  Luckily we were able to assure the professor that we had not transgressed.

After graduation, Barbara married and moved away from Champaign,  She taught a short time, relocated to California, and gave birth to her sweet daughter, Vanessa.  I remained single, starting new education programs in various school districts, becoming certified in multiple areas of special education.  For the most part, we didn’t correspond.  I wasn’t there for her mother’s funeral but did attend her father’s visitation.

It was Vanessa who brought us together again.  She entered the University of Illinois in the fall of 1997, and mom planned a visit soon after.  I received the call, and Barbara and I were back in each other’s lives.  It seemed we had never been apart--that’s how it is with special friends.

As our visits continued, Barbara’s husband Tom dubbed us “Identical Best Friends.”  The term fit.  We share many of the same values and interests.  We are readers, crafters, card makers, and knitters.  We enjoy college football.  We love the Lord.

Last year was an awful one for Barbara.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer, and because she was in the midst of chemo, she was unable to attend her older brother’s, Len’s, funeral.  He passed away from pancreatic cancer.  As Barbara continued her treatments, her co-worker’s sweet young daughter passed away, and Barbara’s baby sister, Marsha, was diagnosed with a different type of breast cancer from Barbara‘s.  Just before the holidays, Marsha passed away from an allergic reaction to one of the chemo medications.  Through it all, Barbara held on.

She journeyed through the “shadow of the valley of death,” but blessedly she is now on the other side.  It has been three weeks since her last infusion.  She is cancer-free.  She is traveling this weekend to see her daughter and to celebrate her husband’s birthday.  Below is an e-mail that Tom sent to me on March 7th and my reply today.

B&B (March 7, 2011) - 

I wanted to write a quick note to say Thank You.

Barbara has had a number of struggles this past year, and sometimes I 
marvel at how well she has handled it all. I know one thing that 
helped her get through it. She has two very good, very special 
friends - one in Mesquite, NV, and another - an identical best friend 
in Illinois.

There were rarely more than a couple of days that would pass without 
one or both of you sending her something in the mail. Beth, I had to 
wonder that local bookstores had any stock left because all of their 
books had been sent to Barbara. Usually, I would get to the mail 
first and bring it in. Barbara would walk in, look at the box on the 
counter, and know it was from you. The look on her brightened 
countenance was often a combination of amazement and appreciation. 
Much like a kid on Christmas morning, she would open the box with 
enthusiasm and check out the goodies.

You gave Barbara love and strength and encouragement, and she could 
not have asked for more. From a simply selfish point of view I 
appreciate that you kept her in your heart.

I mention this because tomorrow [Tues, 3/8] is Barbara's very last 
cancer treatment. Twenty-four hours from now she will be completely done.

Again, Thank You.

Tom

Hi Tom (March 31, 2011),

It was so nice of you to send your thanks.  The truth is that being away from Barbara while she was facing her battle and losses was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do.  I wanted to be able to see her for just a few minutes each day, to either sit by her side in silence, celebrate a joy, or lift her up with a funny story.  I wish I could have held her hand while she had treatments or played a lullaby while she rested.  I had words to pray while I would have anointed her with oil.  I wanted to hold her tightly in my arms when Len and Marsha passed, so she would know that she still has someone who shares many childhood memories with her--not a sister, but an identical best friend.

When I didn't hear from her, I wouldn't know if she needed all of her energy just to cope with her treatments or sadness, or if she was shutting herself off, withdrawing into the land of books--a place I know well.  I didn't know if I should let her rest there or take her by the hand and bring her back to the sunlight.  True to my nature, I wanted to be able to fix everything.  I thank God that she had an outstanding medical team, a supportive work environment, and you (whom she always bragged about).  Most of all, I give thanks that she did not lose her faith, that she did not feel forsaken, that she could rest in God's peace and love.

Through it all, Barbara has demonstrated a strength and optimism that are rare.  She has shown us how to face suffering, a human condition.  She finds joy in each day and puts one foot in front of the other as she continues her journey.  I could not bare it if we were not walking side by side, and I thank God for giving me this identical best friend when I was just 13.  I am blessed, and God is good.  Amen.

You Never Let Go by Matt Redman

Adaptation of Psalm 23

The Lord is my master potter, I am the clay,
        safe in her hands.
    She kneads this amorphous lump, preparing me
         for transformation into her image.
She spins her wheel, pressing downward and inward
        forming my exterior and then opens me up to pour
    in her Spirit.
Even though there are times
    my creation appears uncertain,
I have no fear,
    for you are perfectly skilled;
your hands
    are gentle and supportive.

You prepare me for the kiln,
    for the fire that will strengthen me, set me as Yours.
You glaze me
    with a wondrous, heavenly shine.
Thank you for all this,
    so that I may serve you until I am dust.
I remain always in your presence,
    ready for you use.

Spring has sprung

Some say the robins didn’t leave Savoy this winter, so I didn’t count seeing my first robin as marking the arrival of Spring.  With the first snow melt, the pansies bloomed in early January, but clearly it wasn't yet Spring.  The landscaping crew came March 11 to clear the flower beds and uncover the new growth on the perennials, however, I still had to wear my winter jacket some days after that.  However, on St. Patrick’s Day, I put the top down on the little red convertible, zipped around town, and welcomed Spring, only a few days before its official arrival today.

Seeing the bulbs adding growth daily since they sprung from the ground, admiring the snowdrops and crocus which are in full bloom, and driving that topless T-Bird, intellectually told me Spring had arrived.  But the best part for me is a new feeling inside that I discovered on a walk with Yorkie Zoe.  Breathing in the freshness of newly tilled soil and feeling the breeze that has swept winter away has awakened my soul to sing a new song, has put a joy in my step, for I have awakened from winter too.  Amen.

There is a time

I was in the pre-procedure (routine) room with Bob today, and after the nurses had filled out the computer information, taken his vitals, and hooked him up to an IV, I began to read to him from my life:beautiful--faith for your journey magazine.  In "Wanda's Letter," written by Editor-in-Chief Wanda Ventling, she writes about the troubled days we live in and that God is present in the chaos and is our everlasting hope.  She reminds us that "we can see evidence of the true and living God everywhere" if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

In the middle of the letter is a paragraph that especially touched me:
     Oceans ebb and flow, the moon waxes and wanes, planters sow and reap, people are born and die.
     This is God's perfect plan--and when we allow Him to use us according to His plan, only then can
     we experience the peace that passes all understanding.  And only then do we truly live beautiful
     lives.

On the right side of the page is the scripture that is so familiar to us from Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NIV:
     There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
     a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a 
     time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time
     to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to
     embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to   
     keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time      to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

Bob had his procedure, received good results, and was resting back in the room when I heard the Byrds singing Turn, Turn, Turn, the words adapted from the above scripture (music by Pete Seeger).  I don't know where it came from, but it didn't sound like a ring tone.  And identity of the source doesn't matter,  because for me it was a God moment, not a coincidence.  She was reminding me that She is present, and we are part of Her perfect plan...and this is a time to laugh...and love.  Amen.

The making of a dictionary...

Do you use “OK” in your everyday speech?  I do, and even President Obama uses it in his speeches and public remarks.  In Okay: The Improbable Story of America’s Greatest Word, author Allan Metcalf presents the origin of the word, its forms and meaning, and influence.  One book for one word.  Think about researching this same information for all the words of the English language.  Essentially that’s what was done in the making of the Oxford English Dictionary, as I learned in The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester.  It is an amazing story and begins with a murder.

 After the recent Tucson tragedy, it is quite topical.  It is the story of a man, whom today we would say suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, who shot and killed another man.  The killer, Dr. Minor, was a 37-year-old American from New Haven, Connecticut who had served as a surgeon in the Civil War.  The murder occurred in 1871 in London as the victim (a married man of soon-to-be-seven children) was walking to work at a large brewery.  There were three or four shots that rang out, and the victim suffered mortal injury.  Found not guilty by reason of insanity, Dr. Minor was assigned to a British Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

The ensuing story tells of the making of the Oxford English Dictionary, and the significant contribution that the incarcerated Dr. Minor--educated, cultured, and mentally ill--made to its success.  As you can imagine, it was a massive undertaking.  Upon completion in 1928, it consisted of almost 415,000 words, almost 2 million illustrative quotations, and 12 volumes.  Besides specifying meaning and pronunciation of words, it also contains each word’s history.  Today, the OED is undergoing its first major revision. 

If you are fascinated by words, a wordsmith, or simply enjoy reading, pick up The Professor and the Madman for an informative read.

What is fasting in God's eyes?

One Lent, a friend gave up desserts, but she collected all of them that were offered to her and stuck them in the freezer to eat after Easter.  Is this God's idea of fasting? 

Isaiah 58 describes the true fasting that our Lord asks of us (paraphrased):
     -- loose the chains of injustice and set the oppressed free,
     -- share your food with the hungry,
     -- provide shelter for those without,
     -- clothe the naked,
     -- not turn away from your own flesh and blood,
     -- do away with malicious talk.

Eat dessert.  Drink soda pop.  Chew gum.  Watch TV and play computer games. 

The journey of Lent is a time for transformation, so instead of giving up something that may be a menial sacrifice... 

Let's wrap ourselves in compassion and reach out to others to satisfy their physical needs as well as their needs to feel hope and love. 

Let's share the Good News by showing the love of our Savior through our actions and through every interaction with another. 

Let's  live the words of Micah 6:8:  Act justly, love mercy, and walk with God.

And the people all said, "Amen."

Ash Wednesday...

Is there anyone you need to forgive?  Forgive him.  Forgive her. 

"Forgive us our debts (sins), as we forgive our debtors (those who sin against us)."  If we want God to forgive us, we must be willing to forgive others.

We're on the journey to Good Friday and Easter.

"Progress starts with women..."

     Tomorrow is International Women's Day.  Wow, we're 51% of the population and one day is allocated to us.  Isn't it amazing?  It aggravates me no end.  In conflict with some of my other sisters, I'm aggravated that there is a "women's month."  I'm told I'm ahead of my time.  

      I don't want to see photos of women gathered in action only one day a year, nor do I want to hear about the accomplishments of women for only one month a year.  Wake up!  We're not new.  We've been here since the beginning of time, and we will be here until the end of time.  We carry creation.  We nurture.  We know how to communicate with words instead of guns.  We value education instead of brawn.  We are the best hope for the future.  Why?  Because...

     Women don't have to show others how much bigger and better their's is.  We don't have to act out every time we experience a flight or fight response.  We can live with ambiguity while we strive to reach solutions that best meet the needs of everyone.  And, we won't send our children to war to be killed or send any other mother's children to war.  Peace will be most possible when the power to make world-wide decisions rests in the hands of women.  

     And sisters, I'm not hearing you.  Use your outside voice.  Stand up.  Participate in the important discussions and decisions.  Turn your book clubs and knitting circles into centers of influence.  Zainab Salbi in the following report says, "Women are [the] bellweather for the society.  Progress starts with women."  So does peace.  Amen.

Women of the Revolution

Middle East Uprisings Shaped by Women of Egypt and Libya

 

By LAMA HASAN

BENGHAZI, LIBYA, March 6, 2011

The wave of change sweeping across the Arab world has finally given women a voice. Everywhere I went in the region, I was impressed and surprised by the women I saw. Something changed; a barrier was broken, and they felt empowered and determined to bring down regimes that had denied them their freedom for too long.

"Maybe we will die, so? History will not die," said Salwa Bugaighif, a lawyer I met here in Benghazi.

I'll never forget what I saw: Mother's dragging their children along so they could witness history; girls who weren't shy about mixing with boys, standing shoulder to shoulder with them to fight for their cause; and the female volunteers who helped with security, day and night.

Dr. Iman Bugaighif, Salwa's sister, told me what it meant to see women taking charge of their shared destinies. "Just seeing women proud of being in protest, this is at a personal level for every woman who participated, it is an achievement, it's a stand for what she believes in and I think this will change us forever," she said.

Strong, fearless women have been rising up to the dictators they've been living under for decades. Here in Libya, after 42 years of Moammar Gadhafi's rule, women are no longer frightened of what might come next and they've taken an essential role in the midst of a tumultuous and unfinished revolution here.

"All the revolutions, in France, when you read history, you will see everything is not easy," Iman told me. But she was fiercely determined. "If there is a will there is a way. We have to go to the end," she said.

The protests have now given way to an armed rebellion and it is the work being done by women like Dr. Iman and her sister Salwa behind the scenes that is making a profound difference and keeping the momentum of this revolution going.

With no specific role assigned, they deal with whatever is thrown at them: everything from listening to worried fathers whose sons are fighting on the front line, to keeping up with the day-to-day clashes and casualty numbers, to having meetings about health and educational issues in a new, free eastern Libya.

It consumes a lot, we don't feel the time, we come from the morning, we don't feel the time, and we don't feel tired," Iman told me. 

Spending time with them over the last few days, it's easy to see how crucial they are to the movement. No sooner are they done with one informal hallway meeting then they're pulled into the next one. Everyone wants to talk to them. Even our cameraman struggles to keep up with them.

And another thing struck me about these two extraordinary sisters: they are modest. "We are not the heroes," she said. "The heroes are the mothers that are encouraging their children to go fight for freedom and they know that might be the last time they see them."

The Bellwether

In a panel discussion hosted by my colleague, "This Week" anchor Christiane Amanpour, Zainab Salbi, the founder of Women for Women International, said something that elucidated the issue of women's roles here in Libya – and, indeed across the Middle East – for me.

"We need to look at what happens to women as an indicator for the direction of a society. Usually we look at what happens to women as a marginal issue on the side, we need to shift that," Salbi said. "Women are [the] bellwether for the society. Progress starts with women."