Oregon Coast, Lincoln City, Or June 11, 2016

A writer sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean on a mid-morning, some June Saturday.  A frenzied writer found a blank notebook page but could not find a pen. 

The beach, the waves, the people, the drone, all starting the day enjoying the beauty of nature.  Cumulus clouds in the distance off the coast, the white –topped cotton balls, the grey rain clouds below stand against a deep blue sky.  

The birds in the coastal bushes, the seagulls, all making music interrupted on occasion by the annoying crows cawing over some road kill back on the road.  

The beach is full of walkers this morning.  This cool, crisp, rainless morning.  Walkers, all on two feet.  No dogs today, although I have seen two cats back by the road.  Looking for birds, maybe?

The sound of the waves ever present, like the soundtrack of the beach, a never-ending, relentless symphony.  Mother Nature’s way of telling us that land is temporary in her great lifespan.  If she loses some, she’ll make more.  She is creative like that.

 

A group of seagulls are waiting on the beach.  Standing there on their two feet in a group.  Planning session on how to deal with tourists?  The group parts down the middle, the topic of discussion put on hold as they move to let the tourists pass.  It is a long, wide beach, the tourists could easily have walked around but humans like straight lines and can’t be bothered to change our course. 

Time

Sometimes things just get complicated. Tonight, I began to realize that time is slipping away. Oh, I always knew it was, but it was a faint knowledge, almost a subconscious knowledge.  But tonight I was open to the message.  There are pictures of my children hanging on the wall in my living room.  My son is frozen in time as a nine-year-old hanging from a zip line.  My daughter is frozen as an angelic four-year-old sitting in a pine tree in my parents backyard while her uncle snaps her picture.  My children, forever young. 

This weekend, my nine-year-old son turns 22.  And later this year, my four-year-old daughter turns 27. Where does the time go?

Recently, at work, a new co-worker sent around a picture of his newborn daughter announcing her entrance to the world. I responded with a hearty congratulations and I told him to enjoy and cherish each moment.  I believe that every new parent has heard the admonition that the moments are precious and must be cherished.  My wife and I heard them. But looking back, I wonder if we paid attention.  Or perhaps, it is just the intervening years that have clouded the memories of those little children, those bundles of joy. The laughing, smiling children.

A memory is a crazy thing.  Tonight I sit here and want to remember all the fun moments from my kids' lives.  But if wishes came true I would re-live every moment, and really, who has that kind of time?  I must be satisfied with the knowledge that the lives they lived, the memories they made, are theirs and theirs alone.  The people they knew and interacted with have made them into the caring adults that they are today. 

And tonight, the only advice I can give to them is cherish each moment.  Be there.  BE THERE in your life.  Seize the day. Accept and enjoy every moment, be it good or bad.  Good moments are great, but even the bad times, the low times, the boring times, teach us things about ourselves if only we have the strength to look and to learn.

Hello from Oregon

Today is April 16, 2016.  I am writing this from our new home in Gresham, Oregon.  A lot has happened over the past year and many of those events have lead to our current circumstances and living arrangements and conditions.  When I say "our", I mean myself, my wife, and my children.  My adult children.   Who we raised to be responsible adults, or at least know what it means to be responsible adults.  As a responsible adult myself, I take responsibility for my situation.  I will talk more about that later.

But let me state that this past year, these past twelve months, have been hell.  Into each life we see a great many people come and go.  Some friends and acquaintances simply move on to different lives, different experiences.  Some loved ones die, and leave us with our own miseries of broken hearts and tears.  I was not prepared for this year.

First, we lost a beloved brother-in-law.  Larry was a good friend, a good husband and grandfather.  He was a good person who we loved dearly.  It was a pleasure having him in our lives.  His unexpected death last April really hurt.  But God has His own plan.  We cannot know why.  He was too young, only 62.  God must have had His reasons.

And then, in June, I lost my job.  I was not smart enough to really convince my boss that he was not doing things the way the company wanted him to.  I think I really knew what I was doing in becoming an adversary to him.  I did not like working for him.  I hated his arrogance.  The fact that he couldn't communicate very well and we work in a field where that skill is somewhat important, well, perhaps it just really annoyed me.  But anyway, I am lucky to be away from that corporate life.  I hated all the BS politics.  And believe me, there was so much of it.

In October, we lost our dad.  Dad was in failing health but my sisters and I did our very best to take care of his needs.  We cooked him dinners and took him to appointments.  We helped him to be comfortable.  I know it was tough on him since our mom died three years ago.  But we tried to help him through it all.

In November, my brother died.  He had been fighting cancer and was winning but the cancer called in reinforcements and in the end my brother just could not fight it anymore.  My brother was a good man.  Years ago, after my wife and I got married, I hatched a plan to win the lotto and move all of my brothers and sisters into a family complex where we could all live together and be a family again.  That plan never came to fruition and I know now that it never could have.  We all had grown into each of our own separate lives and needed to make our own way in the world.  Truth be told, in adulthood my brother and I were not very close.  But at his funeral, I realized that he had become a much greater adult than I can ever wish to be.  And the truth is, I miss my Mom and Dad and my brother every day.

Such is life.  Every life has its own hardships.  And heartbreaks.  And loves.  And deaths.  Births  and losses.  We are human.  We endure.  This is what we do.  We pick up the pieces.  We trudge on.  We live.

At the middle of November, 2015, my health insurance ran out.  My severance ran out.  My wife and I were out of money and with very little prospects for our future.  Thankfully, during the week of Thanksgiving -- Yes, THANKSgiving week, I interviewed for a full-time permanent job out of state.  An offer was made and I accepted it.  I would start on January 4, 2016.  Hallelujah!!

But then, the fun began.  We had to sell our house and move to Oregon.  My son had saved some money and was ready to move to be closer to his sister.  So, he was ok.

My wife was reluctant to quit her job of 18 years but we just could not stay.  Wanting to be near me, with me, she elected to quit her job and we packed up our belongings and moved to Oregon.  My son and I left San Diego on Christmas Day and we drove to Oregon.  I flew down to SD on December 27th, picked up my wife and drove the same two day trip.  We arrived in Gresham, Oregon on December 28th, moved into our apartment on December 29th and began our new life.

So, there you have it.  Our new adventure in a nutshell.  With all the deaths, and job losses, and picking up the pieces, I have been fighting depression.  I thank God that I have my wife with me.  I would be nothing with out her.  I am so glad that we are on this adventure together.

A Bountiful, Blooming Breakfast

There were a bird, a bee, and a butterfly in our bougainvillea this morning.  I was enjoying my bountiful breakfast when I looked up and beheld this beautiful bouquet.

If you think this in an exercise in the letter "B", well, you better believe it.   What better way to start a blessed Sunday morning?

But, of course, it was a bittersweet moment, lost in it's brevity.  Too short to sing about, but long enough to start a thought, to inspire, to ponder.

This brief omen bodes well for a day blessed with beautiful moments.

D.

Paying the Tolls

Today, we laid my dad to rest next to my mom in the Holy Cross Cemetery in San Diego.  My dad died last week at age 85.  As you all know we lost our dear sweet mother four years ago tomorrow.  She was the sweetest lady we could ever know.  She died early in the morning.  We were at a loss for words and direction.  She was the one who we would call when we needed comfort.  We spent two and a half days in the Intensive Care Waiting room praying for her survival.  We knew it was a hard fight.  

We sat there with strangers, each sharing their own little pain.  Strangers with different lives as rich and deep as ours.  Loves, challenges, pains and memories.  Just as ours.  This is life.  This is what we do.

 

And, as I look around me today, I don’t see any strangers.  I see family.  I see all those people my mom and dad have touched, directly, or through the sweet lives they have influenced. My Mom married my Dad, a man strong in faith and beliefs.  They raised seven children and 15 grandchildren.  She looked after so many children in her 20+ years as a day care provider.  She has influenced a great many lives.  Look around you and you will see a face that has gazed upon my mother’s smile. 

After Mom died we went back to Mom and Dad’s house to begin our final arrangements.  I looked around the house.  The house is filled with pictures of favorite phrases.  “When there is love in the house, there is joy in the heart.”  “Welcome to our home, Here find peace and love wrapped in your arms.”  I am sure these were gifts, given to my mom because of those feelings that our house embodied.  She was a dear, sweet, kind woman.  

One of my earliest memories is of my mom, of course.  She was watching the JFK burial on TV.  My brothers and sisters and I were playing in another room.  My mom was in the kitchen crying.  

I also remember when I was a kid, probably about 10 or 11. I overheard my mother confide in an older lady friend of hers. My mom was worried about her newly developing crow’s feet and other assorted wrinkles that come along with age. My mom was wondering what there was to be done. This older woman announced to my mother that those were nothing to be afraid or ashamed of. Those wrinkles, or laugh lines as she called them, were a tribute to how much she enjoyed life. A tribute to how often she smiled and how popular she was.

 Some people call them "worry lines", some call them "laugh lines", whatever you want to call them, they make up who we are.  For my mom, they were both.  She worried about her kids, but she also laughed.  I remember one time we were having dinner.  The phone rang.  I was closest to it so I answered.  It was for mom.  She was sitting right next to me.  I handed her the phone.  She kept saying “hello…hello” but she said no one was there.  I reached over and turned the phone over.  She was speaking into the wrong end.  My mom laughed.

We are what life makes us.  We are what we become. Our experiences, our fears, our laughter, our smiles and our problems, they all take their toll on us. They all help to sculpt the lines of our face. 

Life took its toll on Mom.  She saw all of her children grow to responsible adults.  She saw the birth of 14 grandkids.  She took care of countless children in her day care.  But she was in a lot of pain.  She died way too soon. 

 

My Dad met my Mom on the first day of classes at American River College in Sacramento.  For him it was love at first sight, I think for her it took a little longer.  But on one of their first dates, this from Dad’s autobiography, there is a story that tells it all.  In those days Mom was living on a dairy farm a little ways up river from Sac.  Dad was going to take Mom to a friend’s house for dinner, then into town for a movie, not too late, Dad said, or they would miss the last ferry across the river and have to take the long way home.  Mom, said it might be kind of fun to take the long way home. 

Dad majored in some kind of engineering in college.  I think he minored in history.  He wanted to be a history teacher.  But kids kept coming along so he took jobs in refrigeration at a local ice rink and soon went into engineering.  My dad skated with Peggy Fleming at that ice rink – he was a professional figure skater.  During his Air Force years he played guitar.  He played several times at the officer’s club on base.  It was then that Carl Perkins asked him to join his band.  Dad declined.  I don’t think he wanted to be a rock star.

Dad took us to most of the corners of this country.  And, oh the places we’ve seen.  Our family started in Sacramento.  Because of allergies he moved us to Placerville, Ca.  And because of his work he moved us to Buffalo, NY and, again, because of work, to New Orleans, La. and eventually to San Diego, Ca.  In 1979, when my Dad’s contract expired in New Orleans, he moved the family to San Diego, Ca.  My brother had just graduated from college and he found a job in San Diego also.  My dad had a long career as an engineer until his debilitating stroke in 1995.  

My dad lived as long as he did mostly because of my mom.  She loved him.  She took care of him.  She made us promise to look after him.  And, Mom, for four years we kept that promise.  We got him to his doctor’s appointments, kept up his meds, tried to get him to exercise.  But time took its toll, as it always does.  Time caught up with my old man last week.  I think he got tired of us telling him what to do.  Mom called him home one last time.  

As a child, I remember Dad singing an old song from the 50's,  written by Stuart Hamblen, an old friend of John Wayne’s.  The song, “This old House” is a classic. Part of the lyrics go like this:

“This ole house once knew my children
This ole house once knew my wife
This ole house was home and comfort
As they fought the storms of life.
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts.
Now he trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin' walks about.

Chorus:

Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer
Ain't a-gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the windowpane
Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer
He's a-gettin' ready to meet the saints

On his knees he’s gettin' chilly
But he feel no fear nor pain
'Cause he see an angel peekin'
Through a broken windowpane
This ole house is gettin' feeble
This old house is needin' paint
Just like him it's tuckered out
But he's a-gettin' ready to meet the saints.
 
Chorus: 

This ole hound dog lies a-sleepin'
He don't know I'm gonna leave
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace
And he'd sit there and howl and grieve.
But my huntin' days are over
Ain't gonna hunt the 'coon no more
Gabriel done brought in my chariot
When the wind blew down the door.

Dad’s house just couldn’t keep his spirit no more. Gabriel done brought His chariot
When the wind blew down the door

And now he is at peace and with my mom. 

Learning to Walk

Today is another fine fall Sunday morning in Southern California.  I just woke up.  Still groggy from a good nights sleep, my wife and I got dressed to go for our early morning walk.  I, as always, reluctantly agreed.  It is a game we play.  She suggests a walk, I suggests I am too tired and we should just stay  home and take it easy.  I allow her to nag me to good health.  She feels good about nurturing and I feel good about the time spent with her.

So, still groggy, we step outside.  The "omen  crows" are making noise in the trees.  I told my wife I didn't want to walk because the crows were making too much noise.

"We are going," she said. 

I stopped to pick up the paper and put it on the porch.  Again, we start walking.  I said I was too tired.  It was then that I stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.  I told my wife, "I'm not walking".

She said "Yes, you are.  You  need the practice."

I love this woman.

D.

Puns, From My Younger Days, Or Lost Notes from a Messy Desk

Lately I have had a lot of time on my hands.  So, as an aspiring writer, I have rearranged my office, tidied up my desks, cleaned out some file drawers and found gobs of notes.  (Gobs?)  Whatever.  I guess I should give up my "aspirations" and just succumb to fact that I am an expert procrastinator.

See how well I have avoided getting to the point.  The point is, that in cleaning up my office I have found a lot of notes.  Paper.  Paper leads to dust.  Dust makes me sneeze.  So, as my brother told me to long ago, I am going to convert my noteworthy notes to electronic files for all posterity.   Here is a gem I found today:

Several years ago, (Ok, several decades ago) I worked as a fry cook in a Denny's Restaurant while going to school, or trying to avoid going to school.  One of the items on our menu was deep fried sole filets.  On one particular busy night during our dinner rush I was working the fry station.   I had four fryers in use when the lead cook asked me to start 2 filets of sole for an order.  I put them in a deep fryer with the french fries, timing them almost perfectly.

A few minutes later the lead asked me where those soles were.  I looked in each of the fryers and I could not find them.  They were buried in amongst the fries.  I panicked because I knew that a few minutes more and they would be over cooked and ruined.  I quickly found them. Perfectly done.  I saved them in the nick of time.

I plated them and handed them to the lead cook and told him, "Here are those two lost soles, saved from the fryers of eternal damnation."

Gosh, I miss those punny times.

D.

Humor helps

In trying times I turn to philosophy to help.  I pulled this off a website a few months ago.  I thought it was funny and kept it.  I didn't keep the web attribute but please know that if you see it somewhere else, I got it from them. 

"A working philosophy.  Solipsism is the belief that nothing exists in the universe except one's own thoughts.  It's all just a figment of your imagination.

"The philosopher Bertrand Russell wrote an essay for general-interest outlet describing solipsism and demonstrating how absurd it it.  A few days later he got a letter from a reader.  'Dear Professor Russell,' said the letter.  'You are quite wrong to doubt the validity of solipsism.  I am a solipsist myself.  I think it is a perfectly valid point of view, and many others agree with me.  Yours sincerely...'"


I still get a chuckle out of this each time I read it.

D.

Plans, Dreams, and Goals.

Today I turn 57 years old (years young?).  My dad is 85.  Do I, can I, have another 28, 30 years?  I certainly hope so.  This past month I have begun anew to take a better look at my health, for a variety of reasons.  Most of you know I lost my job last month.  No big deal.  But I will lose my health insurance.  So, I get concerned about my health.

But I wasn't happy at that job; working for the misguided types that we find all over.  Life is too short to be unhappy.  I have always felt that but I did not always practice it.  Most of the time you get stuck doing the unsavory, mundane task of surviving.  Rents and mortgages, grocery and utility bills must be paid.  And society places us in roles that we must perform.  We must be productive.  We must work.  We must provide.  We must be good citizens.

Today, I was happy.  I went to my favorite spot in the county.  I shared the company with my family.  I spoke with my daughter 1200 miles away.   I reminisced... I thought... I pondered.  I learned a few things about myself.  I learned that I must exercise.  Physically, mentally, spiritually.  I got tired.  My body is weak.  I got depressed.  My spirit is sullen.  I learned.

I am about to embark on several journeys.  Perhaps a new career; perhaps a new livelihood.  New endeavors, labors, aspirations.  I don't know.  I am working on it.  I have a great many projects on my desk.  The must do's.  The should do's. The might do's.  I have to make myself a 'must do' on someone else's list.  I now have the time to do that.

I plan on becoming more disciplined in my own personal work.  I start that with this essay.  I was tired and should have gone to bed but I am determined to finish this.

I plan on changing my dreams into goals.  A goal is a dream with a deadline.  So.  I just need to put my plans for my dreams into actions and assign them a goal.  There are so many dreams.  So many plans.  I need to assign them goals.

The tradition is that on New Year's Eve we make resolutions for the new year.  Isn't a birthday the start of the new year, of A new year?  It seems to me that each day is the promise of a new year.  Each day we should start with a resolution, a plan, a dream, a goal.  That is what I will do. Let this be my testament, my resolution for today, for the coming year.  And for every day and year after this.  I shall wake with resolve and determination to accomplish something.

David. 

Health, Jobs and New Horizons

Wow, what a weekend! Well, I guess it started two weeks ago.  So, what a month!!

As we get older our friends and family gets older, too.  For the most part, and if we are lucky.  My family is no different.  News hit us the last few weeks that some family members are facing terrible medical illnesses and setbacks.  Such is life, I guess.  Doesn't make it any easier.  Makes you listen to all the healthy living advice that seems so prevalent these days.  Life is a precious gift; one worth fighting for.  And so, we do.  My family is fighting right now. 

Last week, for instance, my 85 year old dad, had some labwork done.  The very next day he was in the emergency room and spent the entire weekend in the hospital.  Luckily, this past week my two sisters and I had reinforcements from out of town as one of my other sisters was in town visiting.  Oh well.  Such is life, I guess.  We managed and I hope they managed to have some fun while they were on vacation.   Dad is home, back to his routine and doing as well as can be expected. 

And again, what a month.  Last Thursday my boss pulls me into a conference room and tells me that,
"The corporate office has decided to make a change. Sorry Dave. Today is your last day. Clean out your desk and go."  Ten minutes later I was unceremoniously walked to the door.  "Give me your badge". Ha Ha. Oh well, better things are a-coming.  Good riddance to a management who won't listen. 

And so, this week I start afresh.  New beginnings.  I see great prospects on the horizon.  So many  friends have come forward with offers of help and advice.  It sure warms your heart.  Such is life.  We are what we build and nurture.  I have many friends.  I am grateful for that.  And because of that my future is brighter than it was even a week ago. 

My Daughter

My daughter recently applied for her dream job.  She got it and now, this week she is moving.  

She texted me today that she was in Redding, Ca.  Getting farther away.  Soon, she will cross the state line.  Little milestones of growing up, and away.  Bittersweet for me.  But I am so happy for her.  

My daughter, Kate,

Has left the state,

And Woe-be-gone

She’s gone to Oregon.

The absence is the hardest part

But she’s gonna make a brand new start.  

Sometimes I just think in rhymes.  Can't help it.  Good luck, Kate.  

Love, 
Dad.

A Poem, Unfinished, Revisited

This was a poem I posted in 2008.  I am going to re-post it here today because I have always liked it but I cannot seem to shake the idea that it might be unfinished.  I always feel like I need to tweak it, change it or try to make it better.  I really don't know if it is finished.

"Disposable Children

He came to us the newly adopted laughing boy,
A joy to the kids and babies at our daycare.
The laughing boy went home to loving arms at end of day.
A mama’s joy.

As days went by the laughing slowed.
A little boy misses his baby brother, another foster child,
Another home.
Mama’s joy unites them at last.
The two adopted laughing boys.

The laughing boys played hard.
Their love was shared.
But boys come home at night, to a quiet house,
And loudly played and played…

And mama’s joy turned angry. Quiet time is what she craved.
Parent’s get tired from work.
Stresses build and
Become unbearable.
Call the agency, contracts broken
We can’t handle this, we can’t handle two, loud, noisy boys.

The agency arrives and tells the boys.
Little boys go where they are told
They never make friends,
    they are bought and sold
Passed around and loved
    from home to home,
To grow into the realm
    of the crowded and alone.

August 29, 2006"
C. 2006 David Normand

Perhaps you, my friends and readers, can tell me what you think of it.  I haven't been to a very good poet's workshop in a while and need some feedback.  I gave this to one teacher at the end of the class and asked him for his comments but heard nothing.

That is one of the reasons I stopped going to workshops.  I took enough of them.  I think I learned some stuff.  I guess now I just  need to put that knowledge to work.  I need to sit at my desk and write.  I don't know if I suffer from writer's block.  I have ideas, I know how to write.  I just lack motivation.  I am a lazy writer.

Wow.  There.  I said it.  Amazing how the  mind works.  As soon as I typed that phrase, "I am a lazy writer", my mind went blank.  I stopped writing, typing for about 30 seconds.  I had no place to go.  I almost went to bed.  Maybe I should type something different, like, "I am a prolific writer", and see if I can trick my mind into actually finishing something?  You know what?  I feel the positive motivation.  Amazing.  Wow. This changes everything.  But not tonight.  I must sleep on it.  Decide in the morning if I have the motivation to write.

Good night,
D.

It's a Small World --(Draft)

(Author's Note:  The core ideas of this essay were written at the turn of the millennium-we can argue about the correct date some other time - 2000 or 2001. I have tweaked it more for today. I may have to tweak this some more but the general theme is relevant today.  I list this as a draft because I believe there is still a great deal to say.)

One of my least favorite songs is "It's a Small World." So it is kind of ironic that I chose that as the title of my topic today. But I have been kicking around a few ideas over the past few years and the title just seemed to fit.

At the change of the millennium it occurred to me how lucky we are. I spent New Year's Eve watching from the safety of my own home. The Y2K bug didn't scare me but I don't drink and I have always enjoyed being home with the people who mean the most to me, my family. I was impressed by the way the world came together to fight a common enemy, human shortsightedness.

The world is getting smaller. For 24 hours we watched as it got smaller still. Every inhabited spot in the world took time to celebrate the millennium. Never mind the fact that it might have been a year premature, that is not as important as the fact that the world came together. With all the hype from the last 2, 3, or 4 years about the Y2K computer problem, whether it was a hoax or not, we have shown that humans can pull together for the common good. (It seems that there are always individuals or groups who try to frighten or panic the populations, for whatever reasons.)

And that brings me to my second point. Everything is believed. About a couple of years ago I started kicking around this idea. It is not entirely my idea, but one I am beginning to share with a large number of people. Everything is believed. For most of my life I have been searching. I have read a lot about other belief systems, some of those written by people who fervently believe in what they are writing. I have looked at a lot of things and it is true, everything is believed. You can come up with any idea and I am sure that you can find people who believe in it.

There are many different religions in the world today. There are religions that believe in the spirituality of man; those that believe in the sanctity of nature; those that believe in one god; those that believe in none. There are those that believe in themselves and those that believe in nothing. Save the whales, save the ocean. Save the birds, save the trees. Save everything. (My wife says that is what I, the pack rat, believe in, save everything.)

All we have to do now is look around us. We see it in our society today. We saw that in the riots in Seattle (This was originally written around the 1999 World Trade Organization Meeting). Seattle was interesting in that people from many different groups came together to fight a perceived common enemy. Longshoreman, teamsters, Union workers together with environmentalist and animal lovers. It seemed that every belief group got together to protest what they felt was an affront to their beliefs. Everything is believed. Everyone has a voice. I think the riots in Seattle were an important event in our lives and coming so close to the Millennium celebration was extremely profound. Different groups coming together. This is very significant.

I have been reading a lot about the coming together of groups. Cultures are becoming less diverse, or at least less mysterious. This new "openness', I'll call it, is not happening just in cultures. I used to think that to believe in something meant giving it your whole heart and believing in that and nothing else. Well, in the past few months (years) I have learned that even the staunchest and most rigid religions of the world can break down the walls.

I find this very significant. For the first time in thousands of years, the religions of the world are becoming more open. I just recently found out that the Catholic religion has set up a Vatican committee that regularly meets with other religions "From Anglicans to Zoroastrians" not to persuade but to discuss the benefits of spirituality. That Catholics meet with other religions is not significant. The important thing is that these discussions were going on -- at least prior to 2001.

I often surf the internet at night and go into the Buddhist or Hindu chat sites just to check out different views. I wanted to point this out. And religions are a major point that I want to make. I grew up in a world where we were afraid that the world would end with a great war of religion in the Middle East. I am not going to say that that won’t happen but I will offer this to you. During the past 30 years our world has been full of terrorism. Things change. Just this past weekend I was reading in the esteemed journal 'The Economist" and they said that Islam was becoming more mainstream. The majority of Muslims have decided to become a gentler force. "We want to be seen as an opposition force and not as a resistance movement, and to work from within the system rather than seek to overthrow it.” I looked at the new millennium with great optimism. As we entered the new millennium new opportunities opened for all mankind. But we must become more tolerant and more understanding of each other.  Those thoughts were wounded on September 11, 2001

We are becoming a small world. We are closer, we will have more interactions, and we will have more differences. We must learn to deal with those differences. Those differences will make us stronger. We hear the term a lot now about the global economy. That is still some future ideal. There are still many peoples that are not a part of our world. But we have taken that first step.

For those people to join the global economy they must be given the opportunity, they must be given the choice. Opportunity and choice. These things must exist together for the global ideal to occur. Economically, we can offer that. But there is one more thing that we must offer and strive for. We must strive for tolerance. Tolerance of others beliefs and cultures. That is an ideal that may prove to be somewhat more elusive. We must be able to accept other peoples' religious beliefs. That is the very nature of a people, of a society. A belief system is by its definition a very powerful force in a person's life. In some ways it is what makes them who they are. We must acknowledge that belief, that characteristic. We must allow it to flourish and coexist with our own belief system. This is important. This creates an important dilemma. I will leave you with that thought and this….does tolerance of other people's faiths or beliefs trivialize our own? If we acknowledge others as having a right to believe or worship as they do does that diminish our own? It is a narrow and difficult path to walk.

Some quotes on tolerance:

"No man has a right in America to treat any other man "tolerantly" for tolerance is the assumption of superiority. Our liberties are equal rights of every citizen." --Wendell L. Willkie

"Tolerance. I have seen gross intolerance shown in support of tolerance." --Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"The responsibility of tolerance lies in those who have the wider vision." --George Eliot

"Tolerance comes with age. I see no fault committed that I myself could not have committed at some time or other. "--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"People are very open-minded about new things--as long as they're exactly like the old ones. "--Charles F. Kettering

"Tolerance is another word for indifference." --W. Somerset Maugham

"Broad-minded is just another way of saying a fellow's too lazy to form an opinion." --Will Rogers

"It is easy to be tolerant of the principles of other people if you have none of your own. "--Herbert Samuel

"Tolerance is the oil which takes the friction out of life." --Wilbert E. Scheer

Funny Thing...

And I don’t mean funny – ha ha.

The other day I drove to the office.  Non eventful.  Got to my desk at OH dark thirty AM and was settling in to my day’s work.  I hear from another new arrival that there is a fire on, or near, the bridge over the interstate.   “Oh well, probably just a homeless encampment”, and we stood there at the window and watched the flames shoot 20 to 30 feet into the air. 

It was funny, weird.  That we could stand there and stare and think that it was “just” some poor homeless creatures belonging going up in flames.  No other feelings.  Just a cold, detached stare.  No matter.  Someone’s already destroyed life now in ashes.  Are we that cold as humans that we don’t feel; we don’t care. 

We never did bother to find out the details.  Was it a homeless camp on the abandoned railroad bridge?  Was it a burning car on the freeway?   We can’t be bothered to find out the details of tragedies that don’t affect our lives.  Our little selfish, lives.  Or maybe we are too concerned about our own little problems?

Just a few thoughts.

Sunday Morning Walk

"This morning I awoke and stepped outside to feel the face of God - the warm sun on my face.
This morning I walked to the music of the voice of God - the birds singing in the wires and trees.  This morning I loved with the love of God in my heart as I walked the path we shared.
I walked as if you were there beside me; and you were, in the love in my heart;
In our shared thoughts; in our joy of life." 

I wrote this for my wife, Nora.  She was out of town last Sunday, but she walked with me, as always. The last line was reminiscent of "Les Miserables" -- "To love another person is to see the face of God."