Monday, January 31, 2011

Island of Enchantment

We’d had a full day at sea and were settled in the nicest and largest cruise ship room (on the 12th floor) we had ever stayed in.  It included a 40” flat screen interactive-TV, a lovely balcony with table and chairs, and a butler who served us tea and pastries at 4:00 p.m. each day (Bob dubbed this “folly on a trolley!”).    Through exploration, we had learned where the food and entertainments venues were located and were starting to get used to the glass elevators that overlooked a multi-story atrium…complete with a tree in a large wooden Chinese take-out container hanging in the middle.  Time to hear, “Land, ho!” and we did on Tuesday afternoon.

Before us was San Juan, the smallest of the Greater Antilles (Cuba, Hispaniola, Jamaica), a tropical island with an average temperature of 82 degrees.  When Columbus landed there on his second voyage in 1493, the island was mostly populated by Taino Indians.  Fifteen years later, a settlement was established by Ponce de Leon, and he became the first governor.  As happened on many islands when the Europeans arrived, the indigenous population was quickly depleted by foreign diseases.  African slaves were imported to work coastal sugarcane fields, and the mountainous interior was left undeveloped.  As a result of the Spanish-American War, Spain ceded Puerto Rico to the U.S. in 1898.  Less than twenty years later, Puerto Ricans became U.S. citizens, and in 1952 the island archipelago became a semi-autonomous commonwealth.

We spent several hot, sweaty hours walking through Old San Juan, originally built as a fortress by the Spaniards in the early 1500s, and now a tourist shopping area.  The streets are “paved” with adoquines, blue-gray rectangular stones that were used for ballast in the Spanish ships.  I thought they were lovely.  We strolled by, and, occasionally went into, elegant jewelry stores, outlets (including Coach and Ralph Lauren), souvenir shops, and shops featuring local artists’ work.

The most unusual shop was called Butterfly People.  Inside we found the walls covered with clear plastic cases of all sizes holding butterflies mounted on clear pegs.  Some cases held a specimen or two, some a swirl of many of the same variety, and some were full of rare butterflies from around the world.  Always, the butterflies seemed to be moving.

Besides stores, there was also a variety of bars and restaurants, and we found a sign declaring that in 1963 the pina colada had originated there.  We licked our lips, as it is our favorite umbrella drink!

We climbed the worn stone steps of the Catedral de San Juan (St. John the Baptist) and marveled at the trompe l’oeil work on the inside of the dome.  It had originally been built in the early 1520s as a thatch-topped structure, but hurricanes soon destroyed it, and it was reconstructed in 1540.  The staircase and vaulted Gothic ceilings are from that time, but most of the other work was done in the 1800s.  Ponce de Leon rests in a marble tomb.

The cathedral was really the only sightseeing we did.  We went back to the ship before dark and missed out on hearing the coquis, tiny local frogs, sing their “legendary sweet lullaby.”  That would be just one reason for a repeat visit!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Like migrating birds, heading south

It was two weeks ago that we left the winter of the Midwest for the balmy weather of Ft. Lauderdale.  It was interesting to watch the ground below on our flight from Savoy to Chicago, as it looked like a black and white photo.  Everything was white, covered with snow, except for the grayish-black of the roads, stands of trees, and waterways.  It was unusual not to see the fertileness of the region, but our soil needs its rest too.

Our ultimate destination was the Solstice of the Celebrity Cruise Line, but we left early to spend a day with Bob’s best friend from high school, an Irishman named John.  I had met him only one other time, at Bob’s 50th high school reunion, which is when Bob also renewed his contact.

Bob and John are similar in size and both sport incredible heads of white hair.  One person even asked me if they were brothers.  John is an attorney who has his own financial consulting business and has called Florida home for the last 25 years.  He was a great guide.

We started the day, 72 degrees and sunny, with an airboat ride through the Everglades, the largest wetlands in the lower 48 states.  I was so surprised to learn that it is actually a river--a shallow, slow-moving freshwater river nearly fifty miles wide.  It is alive with vegetation and creatures of all kinds.  On our boat ride, we mostly passed next to sawgrass (and were told to keep our arms in the boat so they wouldn’t be cut by its serrated, razor-edged blades) and  mangroves, native trees that are an important part of the ecosystem (often called “walking trees” as their tangled roots appear to be standing or walking on the water).  We saw the usual blue heron, white ibis, and egret, but were also introduced to the common moorhen, purple gallinule and others.  Raccoons came to the shore to greet us, and we spotted numerous alligators sunning on rocks.  We also found a large iguana who blended quite well into the stick he was on.

Hungry from the fresh air, we headed for lunch at a lovely restaurant overlooking the ocean, but first we drove down Ocean Boulevard.  The sandy beach and beautiful blue water looked very inviting.  On a wall in front of the beach, we saw the funniest sight of the day.  A man and his Great Dane were sitting side-by-side--the dog was resting exactly like a person with his bottom on the wall, his arms in the air, and his hind feet on the ground.  Before we could get a photo, the light turned green.

At lunch it was humorous listening to the guys talk about high school in the 50’s.  There was much talk of the “good” and “bad” girls, until it finally dawned on them that afternoon that many of the girls were doing all the same things!  John kept saying, “But, I put her up on a pedestal.”

With our thirst and hunger satisfied, John drove us to Las Olas, their Rodeo Drive.  We window shopped, and also enjoyed many additional dog sightings.  At one outdoor cafĂ© sat a man, woman, and dog--each in a chair around a table--and the people were feeding the dog the pepperoni off of the pizza.  I was glad I wasn’t going to be with that dog that night…his poor tummy.

Time to call it a day, and a blessed one it was.  Spending the day with your best friend from high school...it can't be beat.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Packing challenges

For me, the worst part of traveling is packing.  I’m just not any good at it, and I’m always up half of the night before trips still doing it…even though I’ve started at least a week before then.  My friends always make jokes about it, and I can’t blame them.

I’ve made some really bad decisions on what I’ve included.  Usually it’s because of my ignorance or the weather, and sometimes both.  As an example, one time we went to Vail in May.  I’d never been there, and it was during pre-Internet days.  I kept checking the newspaper for the weather in Denver (that was the only Colorado city mentioned) and packed accordingly.  Short sleeved tops and capris.  The first morning we awakened to deer outside our room…in a foot of new snow!  After that surprise, I came up with my Vail uniform: one of Bob’s long-sleeved shirts, jeans, and a new sweatshirt (luckily, on sale).  That seemed to be just the beginning of my bad luck.  If I packed clothes for warm weather, there was a cold spell, and visa versa.

I have a packing list.  It’s getting quite long, as I try to prepare for every contingency (and I wasn't even a Boy Scout).  I pack extra contact lenses, cold medicine, a dental repair kit, flashlight, duct tape, and on and on.  As the baggage weight and size limits on airlines continue to diminish, soon I may not be taking any clothes at all…and that will be the end of my problems!

We just returned from a one-week cruise to the Caribbean.  As I reflected on my packing, I tickled myself.  The first things I selected for the suitcase?  Two books.  The first was Herman Wouk’s Don’t Stop the Carnival.  I had purchased this a few years ago to read on a cruise of the Panama Canal, as the action is set on an imaginary Caribbean island, but the cruise was over before the book was begun.  The second choice was another off my bookshelf, This One and Magic Life by Anne Carroll George.  I have a weakness for Southern authors and stories, and this one is about a family that gathers in a town on Mobile Bay for a funeral.  They were very different books, written in very different styles.  Both were good, not great, reads.   Perhaps, after all, these first choices for my suitcase lead me to the answer to my packing dilemma.  Cover me with words--they fit, and I’ll be ready for any temperature, activity or occasion.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Each day--a day of happiness


Do you keep a gratitude journal? I have done it periodically--writing down three to five things each day for which I am grateful. It’s almost an extension of the night routine my father set up for me when I was a child. After being tucked into bed, he would ask, “What was your most fun thing today?” It made me review my day and left me with a happy thought as I dropped off to sleep.

Fun, happy, grateful? These emotions are closely linked, and, for me, it might be a chicken and egg dilemma. Am I happy because I am grateful? Or, am I grateful because I am happy? Any thoughts?

As mentioned before, I received the very best calendars this Christmas. Each has a different focus and is enriching my life. My cousin gave me a Page-a-Day calendar--360,000 things to make you happy (or some similar title). Each day is a yellow sunburst with the date and ten happy things. Here are some of the entries:

--choosing the most rewarding path
--rushes of emotion triggered by a song on the radio
--what you truly believe in
--sledding with friends
--postcards
--a good example
--soft flames hissing in the fireplace
--getting a bonus game
--watching cats watching birds
--the miracle of spontaneous eloquence
--sacred space
--perpetuating kindness
--muscles worked hard
--a doggie bag
--watching the days grow longer
--the scent of orange blossoms
--used book scavenging
--rooms with high ceilings

Reading ten new entries each morning--having so many favorite things brought to mind--starts my day with a joyous attitude. I feel grateful and happy. Thank you, Jean.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

We didn't get kissed...

We watched the oddly-shaped black piece of plastic travel along the moving conveyor belt, the thing that didn’t belong, among the endless sea of black bags. There were suiter trolleys, rolling garment bags, wheeled duffels, and this lone piece of plastic.

The arrival of the luggage from the plane had started off with a bit of humor. A piece of carnival music played just prior to the commencement of the conveyor belt. We, the weary airplane travelers, were pleased by the promptness of the delivery, especially since the plane’s departure had been delayed. But then, we saw that piece of plastic.

A tall, solidly-built man hefted a large piece of luggage off the belt and soon realized that the piece of plastic belonged to his now partially-destroyed bag. He called out and the piece was thrown to him by a traveler lined up further down the belt. All of us breathed sighs of empathy.

I admired the lovely matched set of light gray Samsonite luggage the couple standing in front of us had by their side. In an earlier discussion they’d told us they were going on a cruise also. The guy would be standing up for his middle-aged friend who was remarrying after his wife’s death. Clearly they had purchased this luggage for the occasion, as their carry-on pieces were in pristine condition.

Our bags looked forlorn. We were using the suitcase pieces that represented the survival of the fittest: a relatively new and barely within the size limits dark gray suitcase with slider wheels, the Travelpro black duffel that has broken zipper pulls and cannot be locked, and the brown Chaps piece with fabric that looks brushed. Well, that was how they looked before this last plane ride. The newest suitcase’s fabric has pulled out from around the handle, the duffel has lost all covering on the corners, and the brown piece would only be coveted by a street person. These last two will have to be “retired.”

Nowadays, there is never anyone around the luggage conveyors to police whether people are picking up luggage that belongs to them. Nor is there anyone around to whom one could report damage and file a claim. And, after the weariness of travel, few would have the stamina to face the confrontation. We don’t. We growl and voice our complaints to each other.

This last trip, my husband said to me, “We are having increasingly more damage to our suitcases each time we fly…and today we had to pay American Airlines $25-$35 per piece for this opportunity.” It was at this time that I replied, “We should have gotten kissed, because we sure got s------.”

However, I give the Ft. Lauderdale airport credit for lifting my spirits as we left. When the sliding doors opened, another piece of carnival music played, and a voice said, “You’re beautiful.” My head was held a little higher.

Monday, January 17, 2011

When will we ever learn?

“Somehow this madness must cease. We must stop now. I speak as a child of God and [sister] to the suffering poor of Iraq and Afghanistan. Speak for those whose land is being laid waste, whose homes are being destroyed, whose culture is being subverted. I speak for the poor in America who are paying the double price of smashed hopes at home and death and corruption in Iraq and Afghanistan. I speak as a citizen of the world, for the world as it stands aghast at the path we have taken. I speak as an American to the leaders of my own nation. The great initiative in these wars is ours. The initiative to stop them must be ours.”

I wish these eloquent and sage words were mine today, but they belong to the great Martin Luther King, Jr., The Trumpet of Conscience. Instead of Iraq and Afghanistan, it should, of course, read Vietnam. Forty-four years ago, we were mired in that war, a civil war that we shouldn’t have been involved in, that cost the lives of many Americans, Vietnamese, and other southeast Asians. We couldn’t figure out how to end the war and withdraw our troops, and we are in exactly the same situation now. As a nation, we have learned nothing.

Today, we are told that the war in Iraq is over, but there is talk of leaving 50,000 or more soldiers at risk there. A corrupt government reigns. In Afghanistan, we recently instituted a surge of soldiers, in an effort to make headway. A corrupt government reigns there also. Can we say that our intrusiveness has improved the quality of life for the people of these countries? Unfortunately not. It’s a sorry situation.

I cannot understand where the protest marchers are, or those talented enough to write and sing the songs that can move people to action. Where are the humble and compassionate in this country? Where are those who advocate nonviolent means of solving disagreements? Our nation desperately needs these voices to rise up. It took the draft and the student protests to put an end to Vietnam. And, it took Martin Luther King, Jr, Bobby Kennedy, and a few others to lead us from our wicked ways. Praise the Lord that they did.

Today we need a leader to step forth who has been “to the mountaintop,” who will tell the truth, who sees “nonviolence as a powerful and just weapon,” and who preaches love as the transformer of our enemies. For “the hope of a secure and livable world lies with the disciplined nonconformists who are dedicated to justice, peace and brotherhood [sisterhood].

“As individuals, each of us must decide whether we will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”
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Quotations are all MLK, Jr.’s words. I have adapted some to make them gender inclusive.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Watch on Sunday--Christiane Amanpour

Don't miss it!  This is a place where we can listen to intelligent political discussion, sans the name calling--it's on ABC's "Sunday Morning with Christiane Amanpour," 10:00 a.m. central time.  Sometimes there are interviews, sometimes an international story, and usually Amanpour moderates a roundtable discussion featuring two Republicans and two Democrats.  The show concludes with a list of the soldiers who have been killed in Iraq and Afghanistan and some funny late-night show sound bites.

Tomorrow, there will be a town hall meeting on the Tucson tragedy, reuniting the survivors of the "Congress on the Corner" event.
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Christiane Amanpour was born to an Iranian airline executive and his British wife and grew up in Tehran until she attended British boarding schools.  During the Islamic Revolution (1979), her family members became refugees, and she moved to Rhode Island to attend college.  She's married to a man of the Jewish faith tradition.  Amanpour was CNN's Chief International Correspondent for tweny years.
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Set your TiVo, attend church, and then tune in.  Learn something new.  Listen to the "other side's" opinions.  Become more informed.  You won't be sorry that you did.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Sign the Peace and Civility Pledge today

I received an e-mail from Jim Wallis yesterday asking me to sign the Peace and Civility Pledge.  I did so, making the commitment to model the peace of Christ in my life and my community.  I'm asking you to make this commitment too.  Go to www.sojo.net (Sojourners: Christians for Justice and Peace), or follow the link below.

                             Be the change you want to see in the world.  --Mahatma Gandhi

An excerpt from Jim Wallis' e-mail request:

How can we not only stop conflict, but also be a part of bringing about a just community that displays the positive presence of peace?

We start with ourselves. Our Peace and Civility Pledge outlines the higher standards that scripture calls us to in how we are to treat one another and act in community. I ask you to sign the Pledge, consider how these teachings are being manifested in your life, and share it with a friend, your church, your family.


Last Spring, we began this important work with over 100 prominent Christian leaders who signed the “Civility Covenant.” Each one committed to modeling civil discourse, even with people they disagree with. In a divided world each one made a commitment to model the peace of Christ in their lives and their communities. They recognized that many of us who would never consider violence of the fist have been guilty of violence in our hearts and with our tongues.

Part of building a better society is relating to others with whom we disagree on important issues without calling them evil. It is out of that work that we recommit ourselves to being peacemakers in our country. It is on that Covenant that we have based this new Pledge.

As the county sheriff in charge of the criminal scene in Tucson said on Saturday, this must be an occasion for national “soul searching.” In the midst of tragedy and violence, I believe this means every Christian must ask: “How am I responsible?”

To that end, we encourage you to reflect with us all, using the Pledge as a starting place for scriptural teaching. Please share your thoughts, prayers, confessions, and hopes on our Facebook page or on the God’s Politics blog.

This horrible tragedy must now become an important American moment. We must honor this tragic event and Gabby’s national service by reflecting deeply on how we speak to and about one another, and how we create environments that help peace grow -- or allow violence and hatred to enter. 

Blessings and peace,
Jim Wallis

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Time to pray and then act

I remain saddened, and yes, angry, as the result of the tragedy in Tucson, and I continue to challenge myself to answer Jim Wallis' question of personal responsibility.

In yesterday's blog entry, I called for change in our gun laws and our rhetoric.  However, I think we also need to assess our mental health network and see what can be done to better identify and reach out to those in need.  On a personal level, I think we all must reach out to anyone we know who is feeling alienated, who has been bullied, who seems friendless, who doesn't seem in touch with reality.

No matter what the specific reasons turn out to be for this terrible tragedy, there are still systemic reasons for the violent and the violence in our country.  I hope this horrible shooting will become the impetus for needed change, for personal soul searching.

Many are more eloquent that I am and are not so quick to seek solutions.  One is the Rev. Dr. Sharon E. Watkins, General Minister and President of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  Below is her blog entry from yesterday.  She reminds us that now is the time to pray--prayers of praise, confession, and petition, and prayers for our leaders. Then, it is time to act. Amen.

"Prayer is not an old woman's idle amusement. Properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action."
- Mohandas Gandhi

God’s Heart Was the First to Break

Jan 10
Written by: Sharon Watkins
1/10/2011 6:38 AM 
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God’s heart was the first to break – when one young man decided to pull the trigger and when his victims began to fall. Now a nation is in shock and grief. We are reminded again how fleeting is life and how enduring the patterns of human nature, both for good and for harm. A US Representative known for her openness, kindness, and care; a child at the very budding of her incredible promise; a deacon and pillar of his local congregation putting his own body between his wife and the shooter . . . In all 20 persons dead or wounded by one very broken young man. In times like these people of faith turn to God who made us, who loves us still, and we ask, “Why?”

It’s still too early to have a clear picture of why. Perhaps it has to do with the general tenor of political discourse where, as Jim Wallis said to me, “We find it too easy to say ‘I’m right and you’re evil.’” Perhaps there was a particular bent reason in the mind of this young man that pushed him to this specific timing and target. Some will certainly argue that the fault lies with him alone. Others will look more to the societal context that may have given rise to this awful event. There is surely some truth to both perspectives.
In the meantime, as we wait for more information, as we struggle to understand, we pray:
  • prayers of praise to God who intends that life would be good and who walks closely with us when it is not;
  • prayers of confession of our own tendency to vilify our enemies and to fear those we do not understand;
  • prayers of petition for healing for those wounded in the attack, for the families and friends of those who have died, for the family of the man who shot them – and for him;
  • prayers for our leaders – spiritual and political – that they will have clear minds and pure hearts, leading the way in cleansing our national political dialogue of hatred, disrespect, and personal attack.
And we act – as Body of Christ and individually members of it – remembering that each time we rise from the Lord’s Table we have been reconstituted and recommissioned as Body of Christ for the world. As Body of Christ we attempt to hear one another in respect, and to work with one another to solve the problems that vex us – to be a movement for wholeness. As Body of Christ we seek to reveal the Reign of God at hand, working for justice, peace and care for all our neighbors. As Body of Christ we look upon each one of those neighbors, those with whom we agree and those with whom we disagree, and see on each face the image of God. In this heartbreaking time, let us act in keeping with that image also revealed in us. In God’s image, let us be a movement for wholeness and healing and hope.

Monday, January 10, 2011

What is our role in this?

Why?  Once again, why are people dead at the hands of a mentally unbalanced person in possession of an automatic weapon?   Is it our violent rhetoric or our violent ways?  

I think that Pima County Sheriff Clarence Dupnik very eloquently gave us all something to think about when he said, "When you look at unbalanced people, how they respond to the vitriol that comes out of certain mouths about tearing down the government.  The anger, the hatred, the bigotry that goes on in this country is getting to be outrageous.  And unfortunately, Arizona, I think, has become the capital.  We have become the mecca for prejudice and bigotry."

Our lack of gun laws, the ease with which anyone can purchase (legally or illegally) any weapon of his/her choice, and now the ability to legally carry concealed weapons leave all of us with the possibility of looking down the barrel of a gun during any disagreement or misunderstanding.  We are not the Wild West anymore, populated by cowboys and settlers, but we act like it by the way we arm ourselves.  We are supposed to be a civilized society, but we too often aren't civil to each other when we have disagreements.

It's time to look at this situation that we have created.  It's time to face up to the fact that we live in a violent country that does shoot, and sometimes kills, its politicians.

Is this freedom?  I don't think so.  I want the freedom to go to the grocery store and not worry if I will get killed.  I want the freedom to talk to my congresspeople and not worry that I will be gunned down. 

I want change.  I want Congress to stand up to the NRA and develop some laws that make the United States a safer and less violent place to live.  And I want all of us to monitor our speech, even when we are in heated debates.  We don't need to speak of targets and crosshairs when we're talking about politicians during elections, but rather we need to discuss ideas without inflammatory rhetoric.  Commentators especially need to heed this.

Please read Jim Wallis' blog below.  He calls on us to be peacemakers, builders of just communities, and he calls on us to do some soul searching, to understand our role in this.  Let this awful shooting awaken us to the climate of hate and violence, anger and bigotry, that exists in our country.  Let's look for solutions.




God's Politics

An Attack on the Soul of the Nation

by Jim Wallis 01-10-2011
 
The shooting of Gabrielle Giffords, the young Congresswoman from Arizona, must speak to the soul of this nation. The shooter raised his gun to her head, and then he kept shooting until 14 others were wounded and six people killed, including a district court judge and a 9-year-old girl who was president of her student council. Gabby, as everyone calls her, is one of the most beloved political leaders in the Congress and back in her home state of Arizona. Everyone likes her on both sides of the aisle. One of her colleagues remarked that if there was a list of the most vitriolic politicians in the country, Gabby’s name would be near the very bottom of the list. Gabby is known as one of the warmest, brightest, most open, and best listening members of Congress. She was listening to her constituents Saturday at a shopping center when a young man pointed a gun at her head and shot her at point-blank range.

I was with Gabby just a week ago, as both of our families celebrated the New Year’s holiday at a retreat in South Carolina. I count her as a friend (and there are countless others who feel the same way). She is somebody I always looked forward to seeing again, and she’s a great hugger, especially for a member of Congress. Last week, we talked about her very tough and close election this fall, which she won by only a few thousand votes in one of the most divided states in the nation, where the political rhetoric has become more and more poisonous and personal — much like the rest of the country. Gabby is always engaging, but never polarizing, and was the least likely person to be targeted by an angry and unhinged man. But she was.  Her husband, Mark Kelly, is a navy pilot and an astronaut, and my boys remember him coming to the retreat’s kids program to tell them what it’s like flying through space. He now sits at her side in a hospital room as Gabby fights for her life. We all hope and pray for her recovery.

This horrible tragedy must now become an important American moment. And, it is our job to make sure it does not just become another quickly forgotten event. As the county sheriff in charge of the criminal scene in Tucson said on Saturday, this must be an occasion for national “soul searching.” Part of the tragedy is that while this shooting has shaken the communities Gabby is a part of — Arizona and Washington, D.C. — violent tragedies like this are far too common in our country and our world. When a shooting would occur in the neighborhood of Columbia Heights, in which I lived for 30 years, we would always look towards bringing the individual or individuals who committed the act to justice. But we never stopped there. We always asked: What is our role in this?

A central calling for Christians is to be peacemakers. Peace, we understand, is not simply the absence of current conflict, but the presence of a just community. In the midst of tragedy and violence, I believe this means every Christian must ask themselves: “How am I responsible?” What more can we do to bring peace to this world as the Prince of Peace has called us to do? What are the situations and environments that allow this kind of hate and violence to grow? How can I not only stop conflict, but also be a part of bringing about a just community that displays the positive presence of peace?

As many have already said, we must honor this tragic event and Gabby’s national service by reflecting deeply on how we speak to and about one another, and how we create environments that help peace grow, or allow violence and hatred to enter. Many of us who would never consider violence of the fist have been guilty of violence in our hearts and with our tongues. We need to be able to relate to others with whom we disagree on important issues without calling them evil. The words we say fall upon the balanced and unbalanced, stable and unstable, the well-grounded and the unhinged, alike.

It can be easy to simply turn the station when violence breaks into our world. It can be even easier to do so when it happens in another community, not ours. But it would be an even greater tragedy now for the violence against Gabrielle Giffords and the others wounded and killed in Arizona to become another passing event — a blip on the social media screen of our lives — rather than something which changes us. Instead of viewing this shooting as something that happened to other people in another place far away, this could be a time to tie us closer to our neighbors across the country. To that end, we are inviting our bloggers and readers to reflect with us all this week on God’s Politics, to offer thoughts, prayers, confessions, and hopes, all aimed toward our national healing. As we continue to pray for Gabby and the families of all those who were so brutally attacked, let the soul searching begin.

Jim Wallis is the author of Rediscovering Values: On Wall Street, Main Street, and Your Street — A Moral Compass for the New Economy, and CEO of Sojourners. He blogs at www.godspolitics.com. Follow Jim on Twitter @JimWallis

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Button, button, who has the button?

My grandmother Davis didn’t have any board games at her house, but that didn’t mean that her grandchildren didn’t have anything to do when they were together.  We were taught parlor games that had been played for generations.  One was a simple guessing game that just required a button.  My grandmother was an incredibly gifted seamstress, and finding a button to use was not difficult.

 There are many variations to this game, but this one I’ve adapted from www.holidaycook.com/party-games is similar to how we played it:  All those playing gather in a line, either seated or standing, except for the one who is “it.”  That child stands in front of the line.  A button is handed to the player at one end of the line.  S/he holds it in hands that are cupped and closed.  S/he holds her hands over the hands of the next player in line whose hands are cupped in a similar fashion.  S/he may drop the button into the next player's hands or s/he may not.  Now the next player goes through the same procedure all the way down the line to the last player.  If the button does not get passed on, then the remaining players merely pretend to pass the button. Throughout this procedure the child who is “it” closely watches the passing.  Since the hands are cupped and held together, it is difficult to discern where the button actually stops.  When the procedure reaches the end of the line, the last player in line asks the child who is “It,” "Button, button, who has the button?"  The child then guesses.  If s/he guesses incorrectly, s/he sits at the end of the line and the player at the head of the line becomes “It.”  If s/he guesses correctly, s/he remains “It.”  We never kept score--we were just playing, whiling away time with our cousins.  As youth, our days were endless, and we lived in the moment.

This memory flitted through my head today as I opened an old shoe box and an old candy tin, recipients of my grandmother’s and mother’s stash of buttons,  to find a suitable button for my pink sweater.  I think the manufactures have been slashing their costs by using cheap and unattractive buttons on their clothes, and the gold button on my sweater meets both of those descriptors.

I don’t often rifle through these buttons and was surprised to find some of the buttons were still sewn or wired to cards.  When I saw the printed prices of 5 or 10 cents and the old-fashioned pictures, I was curious about their origin.  I found that a German immigrant opened the world’s first freshwater pearl button plant in 1891 in Muscatine, Iowa.  Other entrepreneurs with an interest in mussel fishing and button cutting soon followed.  With an annual production of 1.5 billion pearl buttons (37% of the world’s buttons) in 1905, Muscatine became the “Pearl Button Capital of the World.”  The evolution of this industry mirrors that of its times--the development of  new automatic machinery, union organizing, conflict with management, employment of child labor, unequal pay for women, and so on.  Successful for over seventy years, the American pearl button business finally succumbed to the pressure of foreign competition, changing fashion, decreased availability of shell, and the development of the plastic button.

I don’t often add to the button stash.  I keep a zip-lock bag in my dresser drawer to store the replacement buttons often attached to new clothing.  If  buttons were better sewn on in the first place, the manufacturers wouldn’t have to include these extra buttons or could improve the quality of the buttons they use.  But I digress with that editorial comment.  Back to the button stash.  I rarely wear out my clothes.  I’m blessed with enough, more than needed, so that the fashion or the size of my hips changes before the fabric has worn through.  These become Goodwill donations.  During my grandmother’s day, when a piece of clothing was no longer wearable, she would cut off the buttons and string them together for future use.  I saw my mother do this occasionally too, but I think it was more from “depression mentality.”

Button, button, who has the button?  I love running my hands through the old buttons and listening to the tinkling sound they make as they fall through my fingers.  I like looking at the variety and guessing what each was used for.  I enjoy remembering Saturday afternoons playing with my cousins.  But most of all, I am thankful for being related to these fine women who came before, who I carry in my heart, and whose love I can call upon, all because of some saved buttons.
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You may visit the Pearl Button Museum in Muscatine, Iowa.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Happy Birthday, Elvis

“Some people tap their feet, some people snap their fingers, and some people sway back and forth. I just sorta do ‘em all together, I guess.”
-Elvis in 1956, talking about his way of moving on stage.

"I ain't no saint, but I've tried never to do anything that would hurt my family or offend God...I figure all any kid needs is hope and the feeling he or she belongs. If I could do or say anything that would give some kid that feeling, I would believe I had contributed something to the world."
-Elvis commenting to a reporter, 1950's.


“Beatles, Beatles, Beatles, Beatles…” Barb, who had her locker next to mine in high school, spent many hours writing “Beatles” over and over on her notebook paper.  If there was a lull in her note-taking in class, her latest Beatles page would come out, and, in tiny letters, she’d add to it.  I imagine if she’d been present at one of their Ed Sullivan’s performances, she would have screamed and screamed.  Maybe she would have even fainted.  The Beatles were the rage when I became a teenager in the 1960s.

Before them, it was Elvis.  He could swivel his hips and sing at the same time.  He had those sexy blue eyes, Paul-Newman-eyes, and bad boy hair.  He recorded hits one after another like Love Me Tender, It’s Now or Never, Can’t Help Falling in Love and Are You Lonesome Tonight, but I was still playing with dolls.  I wasn’t ready for him…yet.  I Want to Hold Your Hand was more my speed.

As the years passed, I enjoyed a lot of popular music and can still sing along with Sonny & Cher, the Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, and so many others.  I think listening and dancing to the music of our teenage and early adult years is a rite of passage, and, in some ways, it can even impact who we become.

Yes, the Beatles were the rage when I became a teenager, but Elvis became the one who touched my heart.  We lost him too soon, but he lives on in the movies and recordings he left behind.  Happy 76th birthday, Elvis.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

The Twelve Days of Christmas and Epiphany

My Sis gave me a Christian Seasons Calendar--something I didn’t even know existed.  It started on November 28th, the beginning of Advent, and that first page ended on Christmas Eve.  The second page covered Christmas…not just December 25, 2010 but all twelve days.  Twelve days?  Partridge in a pear tree?  French hens?  Leaping lords?

In a book by Curtis G. Almquist entitled Unwrapping the Gifts: The Twelve Days of Christmas, I discovered some wonderful gifts that I’d like to unwrap day by day from December 25th to January 5th.  The gifts he listed include love, revelation, forgiveness, joy, hope, redemption, a name, humility, companionship, gratitude, peace, and blessing.

I like this idea of recognizing the twelve days of Christmas.  I’d like to balance the great anticipation that I feel throughout Advent with a period of time to celebrate the joy, hope, and peace Jesus’ birth brings.  No more December 26th blues, wondering if all the preparation was worth it for one day of feasting, chaos, and family drama.

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Today is Epiphany, starting another new page in my calendar, marking the arrival of the Magi at the stable.  I have to admit though that the three kings, bearing their gifts of frankincense, gold, and myrrh, have been present in my nativity scene on the entry table since I set it up.   However, it‘s helpful to have this special day to remember what their presence symbolizes.  Originally it revealed that Jesus was the Christ of not only the Jews but also of everyone else.  The commentary on my calendar says that medieval artists depicted the Magi as representatives of the known continents: Asia, Africa, and Europe.  “Epiphany has evolved into a commemoration of the shining forth of the light of God to the entire world through Jesus Christ.”  (Reverence and Revelry by B. Kathleen Fannin.  The Rev.Dr. Fannin wrote this daily devotional for college students, but I have found it to be just as relevant and powerful for me.  Copies are available at https://www.createspace.com/3393572.)  And, now, we can think of the gifts the Magi presented as all nations bringing the gifts of their unique cultures.

Light and Love.  It’s a lot to think about.  What an extraordinary gift.

(You can order a calendar like mine--Salt of the Earth: A Christian Seasons Calendar 2010/2011--at www.thechristiancalendar.com)

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Who is Julian Assange? What is he trying to do?

Internet activist, terrorist, narcissist, journalist, anarchist, or sexual offender?  His name elicits interest and emotion.  How would you describe Julian Assange, editor in chief of WikiLeaks?   Much of the current brouhaha bubbling up at the mention of his name centers around the publication that began on WikiLeaks in late 2010 of some secret US diplomatic cables.

The publishing of this information has not been alarming to me.  In fact, 53% of  the cables are unclassified, 40% are marked “Confidential,“ and only 6% are labeled “Secret.”  I have been much more upset that the American public has had to muddle around the roadblocks of misinformation and secrecy regarding many governmental decisions.  Weapons of mass destruction? Our news media acted like it was under a Washington spell and was of little use in quickly unearthing the truth regarding the launch of the Iraqi war.  The lie we were fed has cost our country about 4500 lives, 32,000 wounded soldiers, and a price tag of $800 billion.  (In addition, it has been estimated that the bill is over $3 trillion when the war’s impact on the US economy is added to the governmental expenses.)  Change is needed.

Assange described the philosophy behind WikiLeaks: “To radically shift regime behavior we must think clearly and boldly for if we have learned anything, it is that regimes do not want to be changed.  We must think beyond those who have gone before us and discover technological changes that embolden us with ways to act in which our forebears could not…the more secretive or unjust an organization is, the more leaks induce fear and paranoia in its leadership and planning coterie…” leaving it vulnerable and more open to change.  Assange advocates a transparent and scientific approach to journalism.  H-m-m-m, transparency, isn’t that a familiar buzz word?

Remember, WikiLeaks was not responsible for the hacking that led to the obtainment of those 251,000 American diplomatic cables, only for releasing some of them.  This--the publishing of illegally obtained information--has always been recognized as a freedom in our country.  It is the hacker who is responsible for the crime.

Do I want individuals who are in service to our government to be at physical risk?  No.  But do I want to know that US ambassadors around the world are being ordered “to engage in espionage behavior?”  Yes.  Some things need to be exposed, and it appears that the traditional sources are no longer doing this.

So, what do you think?  Who is Julian Assange, and what is he trying to do?

(Huffington Post, Wikipedia, Washington Post, The Guardian)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Pansies and Roses

Pansies in bloom.  Really, in the garden right outside our front door   Snow cover in December, some mild temperatures, and melting led to this glorious beginning of 2011.  There are more plump buds ready to open if the weather cooperates, but even if it doesn’t, it’s a wonderful harbinger of spring.  The snapdragons also sport brand-new leaves at the base of their stalks. 

We received a dozen and one-half long-stemmed red roses for Christmas from our niece and her family.  These fresh flowers were a wonderful present, an extravagant one, representative of the extravagant love of our God.  We decorate with artificial Christmas trees and greens, and it was delightful to have something so fresh and beautiful in the house.

This meaningful gift also reminded me of a quote by J. M. Barrie, “God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December.”  I’m an only child.  My mother passed away in 2007, followed by my father whose death was the day after Christmas in 2008.  It has been hard to face Christmas since then.  It has been a struggle to develop new ways of celebrating to fill my heart with the joy of the Christ child’s arrival rather than the grief of my loss.

For the first time, my husband and I stayed home this year, decorated the house for an “Old Fashioned Christmas,” went to Christmas Eve service at our church, and hosted Christmas dinner.  It wasn’t the same as before, but it was nice.  The timing was right.  My healing has progressed enough that my memories didn’t overwhelm me but provided comfort.  They were as sweet as the scent of red roses, roses that found their way to our house through a niece and her family...who had heard the whisper of God.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Forming bonds

“Beth at Bat?”  What does it mean?  I’m stepping up to the plate to share my views on life in this postmodern time.  I want to stimulate thought.  I want to stimulate action.  I want us to be present.  Come along!
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In his recent editorial, Trust is fundamental to reviving, rebuilding our state, Mike Lawrence said, “[State leaders] must stop selling bonds, and start forming them.”

Forming bonds.  This is the key to our success.  In all ways, we (Democrats and Republicans, Americans and Africans, men and women, our neighbors and ourselves) are more alike than different, and it is time for us to focus on those commonalities, to look at common goals.

Sustenance is a good beginning.  All human beings should have available to them the elements to sustain life: food, housing--including a clean environment in which to live, education, jobs/a purpose, health care, care in old age or disability, safety, and hope.  As we rebound from this recession, let’s fund programs that meet these goals first.  If there isn’t enough money, raise taxes.  If there are additional monies, fund secondary goals: the arts, transportation, and so on.

Let’s face our debt.  Let’s fund promises that have been made, such as retirement for teachers and state workers.  Let’s pay down our debt.  And, then, let’s live within our means.  Let’s make this commitment to each other.

If there were two major shifts in how our government operates, I think we could have a more effective and efficient government--at the state and federal level--and a stronger economy.

The first is term limits.  Running for office shouldn’t be an occupation.  Too many decisions are made by legislators not for the common good but in response to lobbyists whose bosses control vast funds available for campaign coffers.  Face it, big business controls our government, no matter which party is in power.  A time, a term, of service to their country and its people, that should be the motivator for those who run for office.  It’s a sabbatical from their careers.

The second is a flat tax (above some designated bottom) for individuals/families,  companies, and imports.  Tax is the cost of being an American or of living in America; it’s the cost of doing business in this country.  There are no more breaks for those who borrow money, even if it is to buy a house.  For individuals/families who save money, the interest in non-taxable.  No inheritance tax.  Saving is reinforced instead of borrowing.  All who are able pay their way.

The ideas are simple, but the transformation would be great.  It takes commitment--to each other and to our country.  It’s about forming bonds.  It’s about the Golden Rule.  It’s about responsibility.