As we remember those who shed these mortal bonds and flew to the arms of God on 9.11.2001, I cannot improve upon the 23rd Psalm.
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Injustice served...
The case of Dominique Strauss-Kahn is a situation where just about everything that could go wrong did, leaving the public across the world with the impression that justice was not so much served as dropped on the floor and stomped on. [If you are unfamiliar with the story, google it. The media has already thoroughly covered the topic far more exhaustively than I would.] Since only the two people who were in that hotel suite know the truth, and they disagree so dramatically on what happened, there is very little room to compromise on the ending. The only thing that is clear is that someone lied, and someone is a victim, but we don't know who is which. It is an unsavory and dissatisfying conclusion to a sensational story, driven by a media that believes it has the right to pronounce sentence before all the facts are in.
How profoundly disappointing.
Problems with the outcome abound. Either a callous, self-centered rapist was allowed to go free, or a callous, self-serving money-grubber was allowed to get away with the total destruction of a man's international reputation. The trial by media, fueled by sensational details released by the prosecutor and embellished by an ever eager press, was over before the mug shot was snapped, the head of the IMF convicted more for his past misdeeds and his profligate lifestyle than for anything he did that morning. The reputation of the accuser has also taken a hit, partially from her own lies, and partially because the press went after her, as well.
No where in this situation was pure justice an evident consideration. This was always about evidence and proof, a he said-she said of grand proportions, an international scandal that brought down presidential aspirations and the dreams of a better life for a hotel maid from Guinea.
The French were scandalized by the picture of their presidential hopeful in handcuffs spread across the international news. That he is a roue and a cad seems incontrovertible. Even his best friends have been forced to admit that he cheats on his wife with a regularity and boldness that is somewhat breathtaking even in the morally relaxed France, to say nothing of here in the land of the Puritans. In fact, that seems to have been, in part, at least, his defense. Why, they posited, would a man who can cheat at will with any woman he chooses, take a woman by force? It makes no sense his friends proclaimed, even as another woman came forward with her own story of impropriety.
The prosecutor with the famous name [his father was Secretary of State under Jimmy Carter] and a career to protect brought forth the charges and forcefully defended the accuser, until more information came to light. We all know the wealthy and the powerful have a different system of justice applied to their cases. Perhaps it's unavoidable. But it seems, at least in this case, that the unequal treatment was turned against the man with the big reputation. He was a man who could determine the fate of a country on a whim, but couldn't stop the train wreck in which he had become entangled.
Had he been a poorer man, a less well known man, a less cosmopolitan man, would he have been treated differently? Would they have looked into the reputation of the accuser a little more fully before bringing charges? Would they have found out her lies and her enthusiasm for money before his picture was spread across the globe? I think the answer is obvious, and it says little for American justice that it could be so.
Did the accuser, an immigrant searching for a better life in a new locale, understand how thoroughly her story would be checked out? Did she know that her background would be examined by a press rabid for dirt and details, fueled by clicks rather than a desire for truth? I don't know for sure, but I suspect she had no idea of the scrutiny to which she would be subjected. Would that have changed her mind about reporting the incident? And will that level of scrutiny cause other women, genuine victims of the less famous, to refrain from reporting what they should?
There is another issue, too, which has barely been touched on, but which should matter to anyone concerned with true justice. In practical terms, how do we compensate a man for what was ultimately determined to be an indefensible accusation which ruined his reputation, cost him his job and his political supporters, and forced him to pay the costs for his own house arrest, which amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars? In the end, the prosecutor requested that the charges be dropped, not because the man was powerful or famous, but because the story of his accuser simply didn't stand the smell test. Is that justice served? For anyone?
I suspect that the truth lies somewhere in the middle of the two opposing stories. A powerful, wealthy man, accustomed to getting what he wants, may well have made an assumption that a poor maid in a hotel room wouldn't say no, and acted on the impulse. And the maid, who may have originally said yes, possibly saw the brass ring and grabbed for it, not realizing that if she missed, she would fall off and get run over.
Two people, multiplied by the many lives touched by this scandal, will never be the same. Careers are over because of the fallout. The course of the IMF has been changed, whether for better or for worse remains to be seen, but certainly affecting countries across the globe. Although the long suffering, and one imagines fairly humiliated, wife has stood by her man thus far, I can only think that the marital bond will have been seriously strained by the events of the last few months. The prosecutor will be fighting for his job in the near future, and I can't imagine this episode will be helpful to him in retaining his position.
Two people, two stories, many careers, fabulous wealth, personal reputations, family ties, sex, and international intrigue - this story had just about everything. What it didn't have was a sense that justice was ever an intrinsic part of the process, much less the end goal. Trial by media is the latest fad, and it's one that I hope fades quickly. Innocent until proven guilty shouldn't just be an ideal, it should be the reality in a country that prides itself on the fairness of its system of justice.
The events of Saturday, May 14, 2011 will remain shrouded in mystery, perhaps even to the two people who participated in the whole debacle. Wealthy rapist, or falsely accused? Assault victim, or gold digger? Accuser and accused - which was which, we shall never know.
But justice was denied. Of that, we can be assured.
How profoundly disappointing.
Problems with the outcome abound. Either a callous, self-centered rapist was allowed to go free, or a callous, self-serving money-grubber was allowed to get away with the total destruction of a man's international reputation. The trial by media, fueled by sensational details released by the prosecutor and embellished by an ever eager press, was over before the mug shot was snapped, the head of the IMF convicted more for his past misdeeds and his profligate lifestyle than for anything he did that morning. The reputation of the accuser has also taken a hit, partially from her own lies, and partially because the press went after her, as well.
No where in this situation was pure justice an evident consideration. This was always about evidence and proof, a he said-she said of grand proportions, an international scandal that brought down presidential aspirations and the dreams of a better life for a hotel maid from Guinea.
The French were scandalized by the picture of their presidential hopeful in handcuffs spread across the international news. That he is a roue and a cad seems incontrovertible. Even his best friends have been forced to admit that he cheats on his wife with a regularity and boldness that is somewhat breathtaking even in the morally relaxed France, to say nothing of here in the land of the Puritans. In fact, that seems to have been, in part, at least, his defense. Why, they posited, would a man who can cheat at will with any woman he chooses, take a woman by force? It makes no sense his friends proclaimed, even as another woman came forward with her own story of impropriety.
The prosecutor with the famous name [his father was Secretary of State under Jimmy Carter] and a career to protect brought forth the charges and forcefully defended the accuser, until more information came to light. We all know the wealthy and the powerful have a different system of justice applied to their cases. Perhaps it's unavoidable. But it seems, at least in this case, that the unequal treatment was turned against the man with the big reputation. He was a man who could determine the fate of a country on a whim, but couldn't stop the train wreck in which he had become entangled.
Had he been a poorer man, a less well known man, a less cosmopolitan man, would he have been treated differently? Would they have looked into the reputation of the accuser a little more fully before bringing charges? Would they have found out her lies and her enthusiasm for money before his picture was spread across the globe? I think the answer is obvious, and it says little for American justice that it could be so.
Did the accuser, an immigrant searching for a better life in a new locale, understand how thoroughly her story would be checked out? Did she know that her background would be examined by a press rabid for dirt and details, fueled by clicks rather than a desire for truth? I don't know for sure, but I suspect she had no idea of the scrutiny to which she would be subjected. Would that have changed her mind about reporting the incident? And will that level of scrutiny cause other women, genuine victims of the less famous, to refrain from reporting what they should?
There is another issue, too, which has barely been touched on, but which should matter to anyone concerned with true justice. In practical terms, how do we compensate a man for what was ultimately determined to be an indefensible accusation which ruined his reputation, cost him his job and his political supporters, and forced him to pay the costs for his own house arrest, which amounted to hundreds of thousands of dollars? In the end, the prosecutor requested that the charges be dropped, not because the man was powerful or famous, but because the story of his accuser simply didn't stand the smell test. Is that justice served? For anyone?
I suspect that the truth lies somewhere in the middle of the two opposing stories. A powerful, wealthy man, accustomed to getting what he wants, may well have made an assumption that a poor maid in a hotel room wouldn't say no, and acted on the impulse. And the maid, who may have originally said yes, possibly saw the brass ring and grabbed for it, not realizing that if she missed, she would fall off and get run over.
Two people, multiplied by the many lives touched by this scandal, will never be the same. Careers are over because of the fallout. The course of the IMF has been changed, whether for better or for worse remains to be seen, but certainly affecting countries across the globe. Although the long suffering, and one imagines fairly humiliated, wife has stood by her man thus far, I can only think that the marital bond will have been seriously strained by the events of the last few months. The prosecutor will be fighting for his job in the near future, and I can't imagine this episode will be helpful to him in retaining his position.
Two people, two stories, many careers, fabulous wealth, personal reputations, family ties, sex, and international intrigue - this story had just about everything. What it didn't have was a sense that justice was ever an intrinsic part of the process, much less the end goal. Trial by media is the latest fad, and it's one that I hope fades quickly. Innocent until proven guilty shouldn't just be an ideal, it should be the reality in a country that prides itself on the fairness of its system of justice.
The events of Saturday, May 14, 2011 will remain shrouded in mystery, perhaps even to the two people who participated in the whole debacle. Wealthy rapist, or falsely accused? Assault victim, or gold digger? Accuser and accused - which was which, we shall never know.
But justice was denied. Of that, we can be assured.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Lazy days of summer....
When I was a child, the lazy days of summer were just that - a lazy, sun drenched oasis of relaxation in the midst of life. I devoted myself to reading books, laying in the sun, drinking my mom's special, and most delicious iced tea, and doing pretty much whatever I wanted for months on end. Looking back, it was idyllic, the serenity of the farm where I grew up covering me like a gentle blanket warm from the dryer.
As I got older, summer represented time to work extra hours, make more money, and try to get enough spending money for college, when I was chronically short of funds. (Much like now, but more tolerable then.)
In addition, I took summer school classes, trying hard to graduate in four years, despite changing my major several times. It was not lazy or relaxing in those years, it was stressful and busy, and fall came as a sort of relief valve from all the frenetic activity.
Grad school, which also came with marriage and motherhood, was busy all the time, as I learned to balance school, work and being a young mom. I no longer had the luxury of a minute to myself, and all my waking, (and half my sleeping) hours revolved around meeting the needs of other people. It was satisfying to see my little guy growing and learning and maturing so rapidly, but serene it wasn't.
When he was five, I became an at home mom, and learned about yet another kind of busy, especially once the next child put in her appearance. My home and family were my job, and I spent my time working hard to be sure that they had everything I could give them. We went to the zoo and the park and the pool. We enjoyed reading and playing games and playing outside.
I built a sandbox, and did elaborate landscaping. I cooked meals and planned parties and volunteered tirelessly at both church and school, trying the help make life better for everyone around me. It was rewarding work, and I enjoyed every second of it. But there are stresses even in volunteering, and being an at home mom can be lonely and boring, at times, too.
Eventually, the divorce hit me upside the head, and I had to make yet another change. Suddenly, I was the breadwinner, and it has been no easy task. As everyone who knows me has seen, I have struggled to find my way as a single mom. It is not easy to switch gears so rapidly, and the path has been strewn with more boulders than seems absolutely necessary. Time is something in short supply when you are trying to build up a sales-related business, and I haven't truly relaxed in years. There are a few lazy days thrown in, to be sure, but they are spent at the cost of a guilt trip that never seems to end.
Now that my children are both grown and out of the house, the days are back to just me, lazy or not at my whim. It's a new sort of alone, as my children are now doing the college juggle, trying to make money and still come home and see their friends. They are in and out, but they are independent, so I am now able to make my own plans and do my own thing in my own time, without regard for what other people are needing or wanting or doing. It's a new way of life, and I'm enjoying the solitude and peace once again.
Life is circular, I have learned, and eventually you meet yourself where you started. It's not exactly the same - I'm a lot older and a lot wiser, and there is no doubt that the years have taught me a lot. I have more responsibilities than I did when I was young, but I also have more freedom to do as I please, without regard for what anyone else wants.
Life is circular in a lot of ways, actually. People are born as others die. People graduate and leave home as others start kindergarten. Children become parents who become caretakers for their own parents.
I watch young parents with their offspring, and feel a little nostalgic for the days when I was the center of the universe for my own family. I know how quickly those years fly by, and want to tell young people to treasure these moments, because they will be gone too soon.
It is September, and summer will soon be wrapping up its sunny warmth in a crisp blanket of fallen leaves, swept aside in a seasonal dance. The crisp air will begin to bite at my nose when I let the dogs out in the morning, and I will need to throw on a jacket to go watch them from the deck. In the blink of an eye, the leaves will begin their final curtain call before they are swept aside by winter's arctic fingers blasting us from the north. I will miss the heat and the more casual atmosphere of summer, now my favorite season of the year.
But fall is a time of new opportunity, along with the smell of fresh crayons and new pink erasers and football and the sounds of the marching band practicing in the distance. It can be invigorating to have new challenges and new interests to pursue.
I have never been one to embrace change, and I would rather the dog days of summer last until the sun reveals it's summer wardrobe once again. I will accept the changing seasons, and the new opportunities they bring with them. But I will miss you, lazy days of summer. Come again soon!
As I got older, summer represented time to work extra hours, make more money, and try to get enough spending money for college, when I was chronically short of funds. (Much like now, but more tolerable then.)
In addition, I took summer school classes, trying hard to graduate in four years, despite changing my major several times. It was not lazy or relaxing in those years, it was stressful and busy, and fall came as a sort of relief valve from all the frenetic activity.
Grad school, which also came with marriage and motherhood, was busy all the time, as I learned to balance school, work and being a young mom. I no longer had the luxury of a minute to myself, and all my waking, (and half my sleeping) hours revolved around meeting the needs of other people. It was satisfying to see my little guy growing and learning and maturing so rapidly, but serene it wasn't.
When he was five, I became an at home mom, and learned about yet another kind of busy, especially once the next child put in her appearance. My home and family were my job, and I spent my time working hard to be sure that they had everything I could give them. We went to the zoo and the park and the pool. We enjoyed reading and playing games and playing outside.
I built a sandbox, and did elaborate landscaping. I cooked meals and planned parties and volunteered tirelessly at both church and school, trying the help make life better for everyone around me. It was rewarding work, and I enjoyed every second of it. But there are stresses even in volunteering, and being an at home mom can be lonely and boring, at times, too.
Eventually, the divorce hit me upside the head, and I had to make yet another change. Suddenly, I was the breadwinner, and it has been no easy task. As everyone who knows me has seen, I have struggled to find my way as a single mom. It is not easy to switch gears so rapidly, and the path has been strewn with more boulders than seems absolutely necessary. Time is something in short supply when you are trying to build up a sales-related business, and I haven't truly relaxed in years. There are a few lazy days thrown in, to be sure, but they are spent at the cost of a guilt trip that never seems to end.
Now that my children are both grown and out of the house, the days are back to just me, lazy or not at my whim. It's a new sort of alone, as my children are now doing the college juggle, trying to make money and still come home and see their friends. They are in and out, but they are independent, so I am now able to make my own plans and do my own thing in my own time, without regard for what other people are needing or wanting or doing. It's a new way of life, and I'm enjoying the solitude and peace once again.
Life is circular, I have learned, and eventually you meet yourself where you started. It's not exactly the same - I'm a lot older and a lot wiser, and there is no doubt that the years have taught me a lot. I have more responsibilities than I did when I was young, but I also have more freedom to do as I please, without regard for what anyone else wants.
Life is circular in a lot of ways, actually. People are born as others die. People graduate and leave home as others start kindergarten. Children become parents who become caretakers for their own parents.
I watch young parents with their offspring, and feel a little nostalgic for the days when I was the center of the universe for my own family. I know how quickly those years fly by, and want to tell young people to treasure these moments, because they will be gone too soon.
It is September, and summer will soon be wrapping up its sunny warmth in a crisp blanket of fallen leaves, swept aside in a seasonal dance. The crisp air will begin to bite at my nose when I let the dogs out in the morning, and I will need to throw on a jacket to go watch them from the deck. In the blink of an eye, the leaves will begin their final curtain call before they are swept aside by winter's arctic fingers blasting us from the north. I will miss the heat and the more casual atmosphere of summer, now my favorite season of the year.
But fall is a time of new opportunity, along with the smell of fresh crayons and new pink erasers and football and the sounds of the marching band practicing in the distance. It can be invigorating to have new challenges and new interests to pursue.
I have never been one to embrace change, and I would rather the dog days of summer last until the sun reveals it's summer wardrobe once again. I will accept the changing seasons, and the new opportunities they bring with them. But I will miss you, lazy days of summer. Come again soon!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Seeing things in perspective...
According to Merriam-Webster, the word perspective has it’s origins in Medieval Latin’s perspectivum and the Middle English word perspectyf, both of which mean to see through or to see clearly. In past centuries, an optical glass contraption through which maps and prints were viewed was also called a perspective. The perspective glass also contained a mirror, which flipped the object being viewed in reverse from how it was printed. Thus, for the photo or map to be properly observed, it had to be inverted to the naked eye in order to be seen "in perspective."
In more modern linguistics, the word perspective has taken on additional nuance. When we say we want to see things in their proper perspective, we no longer mean only what we can see with our eyes. Today, we use that phrase to refer to the interrelationship between the parts of the whole within which a less tangible concept is viewed.
The ability to see things in relationship to the bigger picture, in perspective, is a skill which appears to be lacking in many people today, particularly among the electorate [I am using that term loosely, but let's not get sidetracked.] Perspective is a critical element in understanding our place in the world, whether as a country, or as individuals, because it allows us to step out of our own experience and see things from someone else’s vantage point. I lament the absence of the underlying respect which is to be found only when things are put into their proper place. Perspective enables us to see that another viewpoint may also have value, may even be right, even if different from our own.
I originally got to thinking about perspective this week as Hurricane Irene blew through the Bahamas and struck an ominous path towards the east coast of the United States. The media went wild as Irene targeted the Carolinas in it’s bullseye. The national weather forecasters relayed ever more frightening scenarios to a public still battered from images of New Orleans, Port-au-Prince, Fukushima, Tuscaloosa and Joplin. People emptied store shelves and gas stations as they boarded up, holed up or headed out to deal with the wrath of the unknown force bearing inexorably down upon them.
To the rest of the world, it must have appeared that the entire country was under siege from the impending weather event. All the major news sources focused on the doom they were predicting, scrolling headlines about preparedness and evacuation, warning over and over that time was running out. Even the president got into the act, calling it an historical event long before it touched a single U.S. shore. While a Category 3 Irene lashed its way through the Bahamas causing more than a billion dollars in damage, we barely noticed their travails as we were inundated with warnings about the disaster soon to befall our own citizens on the east coast.
Speaking for myself, it was all a bit much. A little perspective would have been useful.
The last few months have been filled with historical natural disaster events.
Tuscaloosa was laid bare, an open wound on the skin of the earth, from an F4 tornado whose 190 mph winds ripped along an 80 mile path through Alabama during a tornado outbreak in April that caused billions of dollars in damage and took the lives of over 300 people across several states.
Joplin, Missouri was nearly wiped off the map from a multi-vortex F5 tornado in May which packed wind speeds in excess of 200 mph, left 134 people dead and scattered debris more than 70 miles away.
The March 11 earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan left millions homeless and more than 20,000 dead or missing, and caused a radiation release from their failed nuclear reactors more powerful than an atomic bomb.
Flooding along the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers this spring left millions of dollars of prime farmland ruined, billions of dollars in damage across numerous states, and hundreds of homes unsalvageable, the aftermath of record snowfalls to the north and a Corps of Engineers plan which didn’t anticipate that kind of runoff. The flooding continues to work it's way south months later, with estimates of the damage still coming in.
Record breaking snowfalls and rainfalls across the country this year have wreaked billions of dollars in damage to homes, businesses and infrastructure, much of which is still being repaired.
At the other extreme, the drought being experienced in some of the south central states has already taken a toll in the billions in lost farmland, crops, livestock and people's livelihood, and it is not over yet.
Cyclone Yazi,the Category 5 hurricane which smashed into the Queensland, Australia coast last March caused billions of dollars in damage to coastline, homes, and businesses.
I realize that for those in the storm’s path, it is a frightening, perhaps even terrifying, episode. I have been in more than one storm with 80 mph winds, and know how the howling can shatter fraying nerves. Tennis ball sized hail crashing against my house this spring just about put me over the edge, so I can appreciate how scary it is to be in the track of a destructive storm.
And I am grateful for early warnings which allowed people in harm’s way to remove themselves to safer locales, especially in North Carolina, which took the brunt of the storm. Their departure limited the risk to emergency personnel, [although there is always a stubborn dolt that is trying their best to self-destruct that will ultimately need saving, anyway.]
For the many people who have lost homes, belongings, businesses, infrastructure or tragically, lives in this storm, I understand this was the big one, and it has torn their lives apart. I am sorry for their troubles, and I hope the country is behind them as they start the long process of rebuilding their lives, just as it has been in every catastrophe. This was a major storm, of course, and it left another gash of destruction in it's journey up the coastline.
But in light of the massive disasters which have befallen helpless citizens without warning across the globe recently, pardon me for being underwhelmed by the hysteria which has accompanied this hurricane-lite event. In terms of the natural disasters that have befallen an unsuspecting populace, this is not even in the top five this year.
Some perspective would have been good, not to minimize the dangers of a powerful storm, but simply to keep things in their proper place in the public discourse. I particularly worry about the next hurricane. Will people refuse to take the warnings seriously? That is how you get a Katrina event – it is not only the nature of the storm that causes problems, but the nature of human beings to ignore that which is too familiar, as well.
This whole experience has caused me to consider the lack of perspective in our public discourse generally, extended well beyond this simple weather event. It is, I believe, lack of perspective, more than any other thing, which hogties us at every turn. Hyperbole is a poor substitute for facts and reason. Everything cannot be the biggest, the most, the worst. If we would save end time talk for things that are truly catastrophic, and take the exaggeration down a notch or ten, perhaps more people would pay attention, instead of tuning out. Today, people find their position and dig in their heels, so sure of their righteousness that there is no room for alternative experience. No perspective.
Selling health insurance, I get to see the light bulb go on for people several times a week, as the formerly group insured, now unemployed, get an education in what the market looks like for those who don’t have that option available to them. Nothing changes minds like personal experience, and some of the strongest advocates for changing the system are those who have been unexpectedly wounded by the lack of an affordable alternative once they, too, are unemployed. Perspective.
We can declare war on poverty, but unless we are willing to listen and understand the root causes of the cycle in which people find themselves, we will never solve the problem. We can just say no to drugs, but unless we are willing to learn from an addict, we cannot understand the drivers in the addiction which holds them in thrall even unto certain death. Perspective.
Winston Churchill gave, on several occasions, the epitome of the underdog speech, impassioned pleas to pull together as one for the betterment of all. His words are powerful, and genuine, because he believed in his cause. He had proper perspective on the situation, which enabled him, with succinct precision, in his speech on the Battle of Britain in WWII, to put all of history in its place with just a few powerful words,
"Two or three years are not a long time, even in our short, precarious lives. They are nothing in the history of the nation, and when we are doing the finest thing in the world, and have the honour to be the sole champion of the liberties of all Europe, we must not grudge these years or weary as we toil and struggle through them."
His perspective allowed Churchill to inspire and lead his countrymen to victory in a conflict which consumed the world and threatened not just the freedom but the very lives of millions of people across the globe. His understanding, that divided they would fall, but together, they could accomplish anything, was a perspective that led him to listen, to compromise, and to carefully chart a course which brought everyone forward together. He listened, he managed, he cajoled and pushed and pulled, in an effort to bring everyone to the same experience, so that together, they would walk into history as the victors in the epic conflict.
I think we are sadly lacking in perspective today. [We are short on true statesmen like Churchill, too, but that's probably a whole other blog.] There are many reasons for the position in which we find ourselves, none of them easily solved. We listen, but only in 15 second sound bites, instead of searching for the deeper answers which are harder to come by, and harder yet to act upon. We accuse those who are willing to change their minds of flip-flopping, rather than applauding how, with solid reasoning, sometimes you come to understand things in a new, more enlightened way. When did listening and analyzing problems, ultimately coming to a compromise, become an evil deed?
By sharing your candle flame with another, you double the light. Isn't that what we should be striving for? You achieve that with perspective.
Perspective is what happens when we walk that long, lonely mile in the shoes of another. When you feel the blisters from the unfamiliar soles building up on your feet, you will certainly see things in a different way. Just as those who have survived Katrina are not more noble than those who experienced Irene, neither are those who have escaped disaster more righteous than those for whom each corner turned is another smack into hardship.
I feel that we, as a nation, are standing at a very dangerous crossroad, at risk of slipping down the slope of extremism to become nothing more than an irrelevant footnote in history. The grand experiment of democracy cannot succeed without compromise and understanding, and we are in short supply of both these days.
Sir Winston Churchill, on November 9, 1954, spoke with perspective on the past and the future. Sir Winston was a leading character on the stage that is world history, and if he can find perspective in the midst of the tragedy and despair that surrounded him, we should be able to as well. His words inspire me and give me hope that we can overcome our current divisions and persevere to days of greater glory.
"We have surmounted all the perils and endured all the agonies of the past. We shall provide against and thus prevail over the dangers and problems of the future, withhold no sacrifice, grudge no toil, seek no sordid gain, fear no foe. All will be well. We have, I believe, within us the life-strength and guiding light by which the tormented world around us may find the harbour of safety, after a storm-beaten voyage."
In more modern linguistics, the word perspective has taken on additional nuance. When we say we want to see things in their proper perspective, we no longer mean only what we can see with our eyes. Today, we use that phrase to refer to the interrelationship between the parts of the whole within which a less tangible concept is viewed.
The ability to see things in relationship to the bigger picture, in perspective, is a skill which appears to be lacking in many people today, particularly among the electorate [I am using that term loosely, but let's not get sidetracked.] Perspective is a critical element in understanding our place in the world, whether as a country, or as individuals, because it allows us to step out of our own experience and see things from someone else’s vantage point. I lament the absence of the underlying respect which is to be found only when things are put into their proper place. Perspective enables us to see that another viewpoint may also have value, may even be right, even if different from our own.
I originally got to thinking about perspective this week as Hurricane Irene blew through the Bahamas and struck an ominous path towards the east coast of the United States. The media went wild as Irene targeted the Carolinas in it’s bullseye. The national weather forecasters relayed ever more frightening scenarios to a public still battered from images of New Orleans, Port-au-Prince, Fukushima, Tuscaloosa and Joplin. People emptied store shelves and gas stations as they boarded up, holed up or headed out to deal with the wrath of the unknown force bearing inexorably down upon them.
To the rest of the world, it must have appeared that the entire country was under siege from the impending weather event. All the major news sources focused on the doom they were predicting, scrolling headlines about preparedness and evacuation, warning over and over that time was running out. Even the president got into the act, calling it an historical event long before it touched a single U.S. shore. While a Category 3 Irene lashed its way through the Bahamas causing more than a billion dollars in damage, we barely noticed their travails as we were inundated with warnings about the disaster soon to befall our own citizens on the east coast.
Speaking for myself, it was all a bit much. A little perspective would have been useful.
The last few months have been filled with historical natural disaster events.
I realize that for those in the storm’s path, it is a frightening, perhaps even terrifying, episode. I have been in more than one storm with 80 mph winds, and know how the howling can shatter fraying nerves. Tennis ball sized hail crashing against my house this spring just about put me over the edge, so I can appreciate how scary it is to be in the track of a destructive storm.
And I am grateful for early warnings which allowed people in harm’s way to remove themselves to safer locales, especially in North Carolina, which took the brunt of the storm. Their departure limited the risk to emergency personnel, [although there is always a stubborn dolt that is trying their best to self-destruct that will ultimately need saving, anyway.]
For the many people who have lost homes, belongings, businesses, infrastructure or tragically, lives in this storm, I understand this was the big one, and it has torn their lives apart. I am sorry for their troubles, and I hope the country is behind them as they start the long process of rebuilding their lives, just as it has been in every catastrophe. This was a major storm, of course, and it left another gash of destruction in it's journey up the coastline.
But in light of the massive disasters which have befallen helpless citizens without warning across the globe recently, pardon me for being underwhelmed by the hysteria which has accompanied this hurricane-lite event. In terms of the natural disasters that have befallen an unsuspecting populace, this is not even in the top five this year.
Some perspective would have been good, not to minimize the dangers of a powerful storm, but simply to keep things in their proper place in the public discourse. I particularly worry about the next hurricane. Will people refuse to take the warnings seriously? That is how you get a Katrina event – it is not only the nature of the storm that causes problems, but the nature of human beings to ignore that which is too familiar, as well.
This whole experience has caused me to consider the lack of perspective in our public discourse generally, extended well beyond this simple weather event. It is, I believe, lack of perspective, more than any other thing, which hogties us at every turn. Hyperbole is a poor substitute for facts and reason. Everything cannot be the biggest, the most, the worst. If we would save end time talk for things that are truly catastrophic, and take the exaggeration down a notch or ten, perhaps more people would pay attention, instead of tuning out. Today, people find their position and dig in their heels, so sure of their righteousness that there is no room for alternative experience. No perspective.
Selling health insurance, I get to see the light bulb go on for people several times a week, as the formerly group insured, now unemployed, get an education in what the market looks like for those who don’t have that option available to them. Nothing changes minds like personal experience, and some of the strongest advocates for changing the system are those who have been unexpectedly wounded by the lack of an affordable alternative once they, too, are unemployed. Perspective.
We can declare war on poverty, but unless we are willing to listen and understand the root causes of the cycle in which people find themselves, we will never solve the problem. We can just say no to drugs, but unless we are willing to learn from an addict, we cannot understand the drivers in the addiction which holds them in thrall even unto certain death. Perspective.
Winston Churchill gave, on several occasions, the epitome of the underdog speech, impassioned pleas to pull together as one for the betterment of all. His words are powerful, and genuine, because he believed in his cause. He had proper perspective on the situation, which enabled him, with succinct precision, in his speech on the Battle of Britain in WWII, to put all of history in its place with just a few powerful words,
"Two or three years are not a long time, even in our short, precarious lives. They are nothing in the history of the nation, and when we are doing the finest thing in the world, and have the honour to be the sole champion of the liberties of all Europe, we must not grudge these years or weary as we toil and struggle through them."
His perspective allowed Churchill to inspire and lead his countrymen to victory in a conflict which consumed the world and threatened not just the freedom but the very lives of millions of people across the globe. His understanding, that divided they would fall, but together, they could accomplish anything, was a perspective that led him to listen, to compromise, and to carefully chart a course which brought everyone forward together. He listened, he managed, he cajoled and pushed and pulled, in an effort to bring everyone to the same experience, so that together, they would walk into history as the victors in the epic conflict.
I think we are sadly lacking in perspective today. [We are short on true statesmen like Churchill, too, but that's probably a whole other blog.] There are many reasons for the position in which we find ourselves, none of them easily solved. We listen, but only in 15 second sound bites, instead of searching for the deeper answers which are harder to come by, and harder yet to act upon. We accuse those who are willing to change their minds of flip-flopping, rather than applauding how, with solid reasoning, sometimes you come to understand things in a new, more enlightened way. When did listening and analyzing problems, ultimately coming to a compromise, become an evil deed?
By sharing your candle flame with another, you double the light. Isn't that what we should be striving for? You achieve that with perspective.
Perspective is what happens when we walk that long, lonely mile in the shoes of another. When you feel the blisters from the unfamiliar soles building up on your feet, you will certainly see things in a different way. Just as those who have survived Katrina are not more noble than those who experienced Irene, neither are those who have escaped disaster more righteous than those for whom each corner turned is another smack into hardship.
I feel that we, as a nation, are standing at a very dangerous crossroad, at risk of slipping down the slope of extremism to become nothing more than an irrelevant footnote in history. The grand experiment of democracy cannot succeed without compromise and understanding, and we are in short supply of both these days.
Sir Winston Churchill, on November 9, 1954, spoke with perspective on the past and the future. Sir Winston was a leading character on the stage that is world history, and if he can find perspective in the midst of the tragedy and despair that surrounded him, we should be able to as well. His words inspire me and give me hope that we can overcome our current divisions and persevere to days of greater glory.
"We have surmounted all the perils and endured all the agonies of the past. We shall provide against and thus prevail over the dangers and problems of the future, withhold no sacrifice, grudge no toil, seek no sordid gain, fear no foe. All will be well. We have, I believe, within us the life-strength and guiding light by which the tormented world around us may find the harbour of safety, after a storm-beaten voyage."
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The more things change, the more they... change...
One year ago, my life changed completely. For 25 years, I had self-identified first and foremost as a mom, and my life revolved around the needs and wants of someone else. My work schedule was set to accommodate the schedule of a busy teen. My evening hours were occupied by her activities, and my daytime hours were constantly on call, in case she found herself in need.
In addition, my other child, the college graduate, [several times over, read professional student,] moved away to another life as a doctoral candidate in a state far away. It is a world that is unfamiliar to me, and in which I have no part at all.
As my children know, I didn't start out intending to be Super Mom. I was going to be Mary Tyler Moore when I grew up, single and free, a career woman with a fabulous life in the city. Marriage and family were not a part of that plan. To a solitude loving adolescent on a farm in SE Minnesota, her life looked glamorous and exciting, and I dreamed of walking in her footsteps to have the same kind of experience.
It never occurred to me that Mary was often lonely. That is the adult observation, lost on a kid with big dreams and no coherent plan.
I never had much interest in little children as a kid. I was the youngest in my own immediate family and one of the youngest in both extended families, so I didn't have much exposure to them. I rarely babysat other people's children, and I was never the one to ooh and ah over the babies in church.
It wasn't that I disliked children. I even taught Sunday School and Bible school when I was in high school, and I had fun doing it. [I don't know if the kids had fun - you would have to ask them, and I'm not naming names.] I just wasn't really interested in going there myself.
However, life, as it has a way of doing, dropped a bomb on my plans, first, in the form of a spouse, and then an unexpected baby a year later. Becoming a mother was an event which changed everything I thought and expected from life. Suddenly, my world revolved around a tiny creature whose well being was the most important thing in my universe. After I recovered from the shock, I embraced the unexpected opportunity that came my way, and found the map that would guide my life journey to be much clearer.
I threw myself into the job with complete abandon, and I worked hard to be the best mother I could be. Note, I did not say perfect. That is not an achievable goal, and I, for one, am smart enough to know it. If we ended the day with more good memories than bad, it was a good day. [I also learned not all days can be good days, but that's another blog altogether.]
Fast forward to one year ago, when my life was in review, forced into change once again by the leave-taking of my youngest. Making myself obsolete had been the focus of the last 25 years of my life, and now that it was coming to fruition, it felt like I was cut adrift in the vast sea of the unknown. I have felt like that at other times in my life, of course, but mostly when I was the one initiating the change. It is a very different experience to be on the outside looking in, the one left behind, having to make the new normal comfortable for myself.
It has been an interesting year, and I think all three of us could agree that we wouldn't have imagined the year going quite the way it has for any of us. It is not bad to deviate from the course you thought you set; sometimes it is for the best to be flexible. But it can be surprising when you find yourself somewhere other than where you thought you would be when you are looking back on the journey.
I have had some reminders in the last few days of that magnificent change that was thrust upon me twelve short and long months ago, as I have watched friends send their first child, their last child, their middle child, off into the world of the unknown. A brief acquaintance that I made this week put words to the feeling that most mothers have - "When he is there, I hold my heart outside my body; when he comes home, I can put it away again."
She was not talking about college, she was talking about her son in the military, currently in Afghanistan, and it was an image that helped me understand the fear that she lived with every day that he was gone. But it was also an emotion with which I could relate. Sooner or later, every mother has to let go of her child's hand and allow them to cross the street of life unattended. It is scary for everyone the first time, but eventually, when you see them on the other side having so much fun, its worth the momentary discomfort, and it's better for both of you.
I have found, in this year, some new pursuits, along with a new freedom to enjoy life my way. I am engaging in activities I never imagined I would. I am feeling old passions anew. I am suddenly daring to dream about things that have long been shelved, and open to experiences that I haven't been interested in until now.
At 50, I am no longer young. I have less life ahead than behind me, and I'm okay with that. I no longer worry about changing the world - I'll leave that to someone else. I am at an age where I look back with fondness at things which once seemed constraining, unthinkable even just a few years ago. I am settled inside my own skin, and I no longer feel the urge to make something more of myself than who I am.
I have felt interesting emotions, watching friends send off their children as I did a year ago, and seeing how they handle it. Contrary to sitcom portrayals or funny commercials, most parents neither cling to nor forget about their children who are moving away into a new life of their own.
I doubt many mothers have dropped their child into their new situation without shedding a tear, but most of them don't camp out in the dorm or barracks, either. Most dads will help one more time with setting up the bunk or giving advice, but they are usually the first one out the door for the return trip home.
When a child leaves your home, whether first, last, or middle, your life relentlessly changes. The child whose life rhythm has become so familiar you don't even think about the myriad ways in which you accommodate them leaves a gaping hole in your equilibrium when they are suddenly missing. After 18 years of putting them first, it's difficult to put them away in the back of your mind, and accept that they can get along without you. But if you have done your job well and they were a good student of your teaching, they will do better than get along - they will ultimately excel.
As I look to the unknown future, I do not worry that my children will find their way in their own lives. Each of them has charted their course, and the journey they are taking is to a destination of their own choosing. It is fascinating to see them grow and mature and change, becoming the adult they were always meant to be.
I am nostalgic today, as I look back a year in time and see how far we have all come. My eldest child talks about credit ratings and triathlon training and is already worrying about getting a job in the working world despite several years to go on the final [I'll believe that when I see it] degree. My youngest is preparing for a semester abroad in a place she hadn't even dreamed about when she left home one short year ago.
They have met new people, and seen new places. They have tried new activities, and fought through life issues mostly on their own. They are both dealing with balancing the many demands on their time and learning how to prioritize to get everything done that needs to be accomplished. I am amazed and gratified to observe how well they have handled the transition.
I am also wistful as I gaze from a growing distance upon the journey of other children who have been an important part of my life. For one in particular, I feel the same combination of nostalgia and excitement I felt for my own children as he walks confidently forward out of childhood and into his new life in college. I am pulled back in my memory to toddler times even as he reaches out with both arms to embrace his adult future.
Chance is the unexpected actor on life's stage, and I am thankful for the serendipity that brought him into our world. Inevitably, knowing him changed each of us, as we have changed him, and it is with great pride that I look forward to seeing how his life unfolds from here on out.
I am realizing, as I watch from afar, that life never stands still. Change is not only inevitable, it is part of what makes life interesting. I would not want to be the person I was 25 years ago when I was my son's age, and he won't want to be that person 25 years from now, either. Each day on the path of life brings a new challenge or a new opportunity for growth, and if you rise up and embrace it, you will continue to evolve.
As I sit here today, seeing with new eyes our lives in constant transition, I wonder what life will look like 25 years from now. I am sort of glad I don't know, because for better or worse, I think life is best lived day to day. But one thing I am sure of - we all will have transformed in some way.
I am grateful for the unexpected deviations in my life journey. My path has been long and winding, and I am thankful for the companions that have shared the traveling with me. I am a better person for their companionship, and I hope they are better for having traveled with me.
I think the words of a favorite song, For Good from the musical, Wicked, sum it up for me.
Just look at you,
You can do all I couldn't do...
so now it's up to you,
For both of us.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn.
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow,
If we let them,
And we help them in return.
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today,
Because I knew you....
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.
In addition, my other child, the college graduate, [several times over, read professional student,] moved away to another life as a doctoral candidate in a state far away. It is a world that is unfamiliar to me, and in which I have no part at all.
As my children know, I didn't start out intending to be Super Mom. I was going to be Mary Tyler Moore when I grew up, single and free, a career woman with a fabulous life in the city. Marriage and family were not a part of that plan. To a solitude loving adolescent on a farm in SE Minnesota, her life looked glamorous and exciting, and I dreamed of walking in her footsteps to have the same kind of experience.
It never occurred to me that Mary was often lonely. That is the adult observation, lost on a kid with big dreams and no coherent plan.
I never had much interest in little children as a kid. I was the youngest in my own immediate family and one of the youngest in both extended families, so I didn't have much exposure to them. I rarely babysat other people's children, and I was never the one to ooh and ah over the babies in church.
It wasn't that I disliked children. I even taught Sunday School and Bible school when I was in high school, and I had fun doing it. [I don't know if the kids had fun - you would have to ask them, and I'm not naming names.] I just wasn't really interested in going there myself.
However, life, as it has a way of doing, dropped a bomb on my plans, first, in the form of a spouse, and then an unexpected baby a year later. Becoming a mother was an event which changed everything I thought and expected from life. Suddenly, my world revolved around a tiny creature whose well being was the most important thing in my universe. After I recovered from the shock, I embraced the unexpected opportunity that came my way, and found the map that would guide my life journey to be much clearer.
I threw myself into the job with complete abandon, and I worked hard to be the best mother I could be. Note, I did not say perfect. That is not an achievable goal, and I, for one, am smart enough to know it. If we ended the day with more good memories than bad, it was a good day. [I also learned not all days can be good days, but that's another blog altogether.]
Fast forward to one year ago, when my life was in review, forced into change once again by the leave-taking of my youngest. Making myself obsolete had been the focus of the last 25 years of my life, and now that it was coming to fruition, it felt like I was cut adrift in the vast sea of the unknown. I have felt like that at other times in my life, of course, but mostly when I was the one initiating the change. It is a very different experience to be on the outside looking in, the one left behind, having to make the new normal comfortable for myself.
It has been an interesting year, and I think all three of us could agree that we wouldn't have imagined the year going quite the way it has for any of us. It is not bad to deviate from the course you thought you set; sometimes it is for the best to be flexible. But it can be surprising when you find yourself somewhere other than where you thought you would be when you are looking back on the journey.
I have had some reminders in the last few days of that magnificent change that was thrust upon me twelve short and long months ago, as I have watched friends send their first child, their last child, their middle child, off into the world of the unknown. A brief acquaintance that I made this week put words to the feeling that most mothers have - "When he is there, I hold my heart outside my body; when he comes home, I can put it away again."
She was not talking about college, she was talking about her son in the military, currently in Afghanistan, and it was an image that helped me understand the fear that she lived with every day that he was gone. But it was also an emotion with which I could relate. Sooner or later, every mother has to let go of her child's hand and allow them to cross the street of life unattended. It is scary for everyone the first time, but eventually, when you see them on the other side having so much fun, its worth the momentary discomfort, and it's better for both of you.
I have found, in this year, some new pursuits, along with a new freedom to enjoy life my way. I am engaging in activities I never imagined I would. I am feeling old passions anew. I am suddenly daring to dream about things that have long been shelved, and open to experiences that I haven't been interested in until now.
At 50, I am no longer young. I have less life ahead than behind me, and I'm okay with that. I no longer worry about changing the world - I'll leave that to someone else. I am at an age where I look back with fondness at things which once seemed constraining, unthinkable even just a few years ago. I am settled inside my own skin, and I no longer feel the urge to make something more of myself than who I am.
I have felt interesting emotions, watching friends send off their children as I did a year ago, and seeing how they handle it. Contrary to sitcom portrayals or funny commercials, most parents neither cling to nor forget about their children who are moving away into a new life of their own.
I doubt many mothers have dropped their child into their new situation without shedding a tear, but most of them don't camp out in the dorm or barracks, either. Most dads will help one more time with setting up the bunk or giving advice, but they are usually the first one out the door for the return trip home.
When a child leaves your home, whether first, last, or middle, your life relentlessly changes. The child whose life rhythm has become so familiar you don't even think about the myriad ways in which you accommodate them leaves a gaping hole in your equilibrium when they are suddenly missing. After 18 years of putting them first, it's difficult to put them away in the back of your mind, and accept that they can get along without you. But if you have done your job well and they were a good student of your teaching, they will do better than get along - they will ultimately excel.
As I look to the unknown future, I do not worry that my children will find their way in their own lives. Each of them has charted their course, and the journey they are taking is to a destination of their own choosing. It is fascinating to see them grow and mature and change, becoming the adult they were always meant to be.
I am nostalgic today, as I look back a year in time and see how far we have all come. My eldest child talks about credit ratings and triathlon training and is already worrying about getting a job in the working world despite several years to go on the final [I'll believe that when I see it] degree. My youngest is preparing for a semester abroad in a place she hadn't even dreamed about when she left home one short year ago.
They have met new people, and seen new places. They have tried new activities, and fought through life issues mostly on their own. They are both dealing with balancing the many demands on their time and learning how to prioritize to get everything done that needs to be accomplished. I am amazed and gratified to observe how well they have handled the transition.
I am also wistful as I gaze from a growing distance upon the journey of other children who have been an important part of my life. For one in particular, I feel the same combination of nostalgia and excitement I felt for my own children as he walks confidently forward out of childhood and into his new life in college. I am pulled back in my memory to toddler times even as he reaches out with both arms to embrace his adult future.
Chance is the unexpected actor on life's stage, and I am thankful for the serendipity that brought him into our world. Inevitably, knowing him changed each of us, as we have changed him, and it is with great pride that I look forward to seeing how his life unfolds from here on out.
I am realizing, as I watch from afar, that life never stands still. Change is not only inevitable, it is part of what makes life interesting. I would not want to be the person I was 25 years ago when I was my son's age, and he won't want to be that person 25 years from now, either. Each day on the path of life brings a new challenge or a new opportunity for growth, and if you rise up and embrace it, you will continue to evolve.
As I sit here today, seeing with new eyes our lives in constant transition, I wonder what life will look like 25 years from now. I am sort of glad I don't know, because for better or worse, I think life is best lived day to day. But one thing I am sure of - we all will have transformed in some way.
I am grateful for the unexpected deviations in my life journey. My path has been long and winding, and I am thankful for the companions that have shared the traveling with me. I am a better person for their companionship, and I hope they are better for having traveled with me.
I think the words of a favorite song, For Good from the musical, Wicked, sum it up for me.
Just look at you,
You can do all I couldn't do...
so now it's up to you,
For both of us.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives
For a reason
Bringing something we must learn.
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow,
If we let them,
And we help them in return.
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today,
Because I knew you....
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)