Same Time, Same Place?

Over the weekend I got together with a small group of old grade school friends. I really, really enjoyed the opportunity although I not sure I can fully say why. Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe I don’t need to. Maybe it’s enough just to say I really enjoyed it. But as much as I enjoy it, it does make me wonder.

Watching a peer mature, cross the same territory, surmount similar obstacles—maybe that’s what it is: The reassurance of seeing a friend make the journey from child, to adult, to what has to be called middle-age. Making the journey and doing okay—or better. And that we make the journey and the past is not all behind. Maybe that's the source enjoyment. The comfort of shared experience.

As much as I hate this use of the word, I know visits with old friends remind me that life is a journey. And, perhaps most importantly, one that is far from over. As we sat and talked it was inspiring to think, with as much as lies behind, how much lies ahead?  How many more packages remain to be unwrapped, how many paintings to be completed, stories to be written, lies to be told? How many more handshakes and hugs, smiles and laughter?

It’s interesting, I know a few people who want nothing to do with people and places of the past, but I can’t think that is entirely normal—any more than it is wanting to live in the past. I pity the person who has a past so painful, so troubled, so unfulfilled there remains nothing and no one to be revisited.

But I'm over thinking this, I'm sure. Why was it fun? I'm satisfied to simply leave it at a yes, it was fun. That, and I hope to do it again. Same time, same place, next year?

Hello Snowflake

I walked home this afternoon from the hospital. I walked out into a blast of cold air several degrees cooler than from where I remembered starting my day.  Turning down the hill toward home I thought I saw something. And then another. Teeny. Tiny. Fleeting. Not dust. Not ash. Not a raindrop or a mist. Nope. Hello, snowflake.

By the time I took the dog out for is final go-round this evening it was, in fact, snowing. Not sticking to the grass and eyelashes, but falling in a real visible volume.

When it comes to snow I'm a kid at heart. I hope for snow days. I hope for weeks and weeks of snowy weather. Like a good thunderstorm, I always hope each beautiful snowfall won't be the last of the season-- leastways not until April.

It's too early for all that. I know areas of the country have already been hammered but, so far, the flakes I saw today had more of a postcard greeting in mind then the intent of moving into the 'hood. Nonetheless, I'll be ready with a cup of hot cocoa when they show up in earnest.

Style Points

I have a friend who is a retired general surgeon. He's around 93 years old and still lives by himself in his home. His wife passed several years ago after a miserable go with Alzheimer's; his daughter is an ailing woman who lives at some distance away. I'm sure he probably has days he'd rather not still be around but he doesn't feel sorry for himself. He shows up at the hospital most days. He'll sit in the lounge, read the paper, and stay current with hospital politics, the changing healthcare environment, Michigan football, and, until just a couple of weeks ago, Tigers baseball.

When I was single I used to have him over for dinner several times a year but I've fallen off since being married and having the demand of a toddler in the house. Knowing he's a steak and potatoes kind-a-guy, though, I took over a dinner for him the other night of boiled redskins and medium rare top-sirloin.

The remarkable thing is that the man is still teaching at 93. Even when dropped-in on virtually unannounced. Even when only seen for 5 minutes.

He met me at the door dressed for the day-- even at a quarter to seven on a Sunday evening. His well laundered and pressed shirt featured a large collar and broad stripes not unlike one I had in 1977. Over top he wore a tidy lightweight v-neck sweater that coordinated perfectly with his shirt and poly-knit slacks. A pair of slip-on loafers completed the look. I thank goodness I had on a pressed shirt myself or I would have felt wholly inappropriate in my faded blue jeans. Almost twice my age and now living on a fixed income and limited means, in an outfit than could only be reproduced in a costuming department, he made an irrefutable statement about the importance of presentation; the importance of caring about how one holds and presents oneself.

Looking around at airports, supermarkets, doctors offices, and shopping malls, I can only wonder about the wardrobe of the typical 90 year-old 35 years from now. The good news for the industries involved in outfitting the coming tsunami of elderly Americans is that, form all appearances, expectations will be low. Perhaps there is an opportunity waiting for the industrious individual who will create a line of senior attire. Rather than fuss with maintaining a concern for well-fitting neatly coordinated slacks and tops, our fashion entrepreneur of the future will make a fortune marketing elastic waisted pajama pants, beer or sports logo tee-shirts, and flip-flops or velcro slides. Unisex, of course.

Parting Comments

Out-of-touch

                                   

As happy as I am about the current presidential voting results I think there is a part of me that identifies with the Republican party. It's not their clean scrubbed sanitized women or their nifty flag lapel pins. No, it has more to do with their sense of fiscal and personal responsibility that appeals to me. And, if you've read any of the several editorials about the current state of the Republican party I think you have heard similar sentiments.

Somehow the party has become woefully reckless in their desperate attempt to stay in office and remain important. Incredibly, instead of trying to take principles of individual responsibility and fiscal accountability forward into modern times, they seem to have attached themselves to one group after another that seems to desperately want to remain attached to a vision of America, the American family, and the pursuit of happiness that not only no longer exists, it never did. So, instead of acknowledging change, accommodating social transition, welcoming diversity, and embracing tolerance, they have allowed themselves to slip into the control of a noisy frustrated minority that wants control. Absolute, all pervasive, deeply personal control.

In both this election and the last the Republicans hoisted a candidate who at least had some genuine qualifications even if they were not perfect. But, in both elections, somehow they felt the need to tap a running mate for their candidate who was absolutely polarizing-- and terrifying-- in their rigid, myopic, intolerant vision for America.

I could give serious consideration to a Republican candidate who acknowledged diversity. I could give series consideration to a Republican candidate who held individual rights as closely as state's rights. I could give serious consideration to a Republican candidate who recognized human beings are multifaceted, that no one system of belief holds reign over all others, that there is more value in looking for the good in people than there is in describing the faults you perceive in others.  As it stands, those candidates are almost universally Democrats in this era.

Note to the Grand Old Party:  Americans, in the majority, don't like to vote for a**holes. Drop your major in social sciences and concentrate on the math. It might do your party, and this country, some good.

Four More Years

I carpooled to a class last night with one of my partners. He and I are of a similar heart but differing political bents. We're smart enough to avoid direct challenges to one another's politics. What we could agree on was the process at hand, at that hour, on our drive home last night. We could agree on this: In this day and age, as incredible as it seems in so many other corners of this planet, we decide the leadership of this country, in a hotly contested competition involving billions of dollars, in a national debate filled with the passion, anger, fear, and enthusiasm of closely held beliefs, without so much as a shot being fired. No riots, no bombs, no prisoners, no beatings. And come this morning, we return to the very lives we cherish. All in one piece. By and large, business as usual.

That said, I went to bed last night early. I just don't have the constitution for suspense on the magnitude of presidential election results. So, getting up this morning I opened the news with trepidation-- and great relief. This morning I am happy for a national endorsement of the spirit of charity, the spirit of tolerance, the spirit to embrace options over restrictions, choice over mandates. I am happy for all those with little who hope for much, the excluded who hope for inclusion, the many who struggle and hope for calm.

No one person can make it all happen. But I hope, along with many others, that one person can inspire. That one person can motivate. That one person can steer this country in a direction that keeps us on a course of great humanity, that continues to inspire us to caring, to remain committed to the concern for others-- all others. For four more years!

Pro American Choice

I was at a conference the other day where the presenter was talking about his experience in surgically treating broken shoulders. He kept referring to procedures he had tried and subsequently “aborted” for one reason or another. It got me thinking that this was perhaps one of only a couple of venues in which a person can reference having “aborted “ without facing objection or assault.  That said, it did get me thinking about the more widely relevant and controversial subject of abortion, the medical procedure, in the U.S. today.

I’m old enough to remember when abortion became legal in the U.S. I also remember hearing about women going to Mexico to “get taken care of.”  In my recollection, the legalization of abortion was met by something of a collective sigh of relief—at least in my California corner of the world.

Now it seems the procedure is under attack as an affront to Christianity, family values, and the moral fiber of this country. Abortion is felt by a fairly active group of people to stand in direct opposition to “God’s plan.” Many candidates, always fiercely fighting to gain office and avoid having a real job, are quick to buy in and sign on with those who equate abortion with a pernicious parasite eroding Christianity, the American family and, by association, the country itself.

But, I was thinking about all this while seated in the Denver International Airport. I was thinking about this while I was looking around at a collection of people from all over the world, of several different races, and in all probability, of just as many varied perspectives and social mores, sexual preferences, and a good number of faiths-- or non-faiths. And somehow, by some miracle of ignorance or tolerance, we were all sitting around eating lunch, buying souvenirs and magazines, and coming and going.  And isn’t that what makes this country great? Peaceful coexistence.

As we arrive at election day, I wonder how many voters will have that in mind? How many voters will use this election to advance their religious or personal moral agenda? And, by contrast, how many will use this election to make a stand for tolerance, diversity, and opportunity—the very composition that has made this country the envy of the world.

I saw a billboard on the highway that featured a photo of a toddler with a circle and diagonal line through the image. The caption said something to the effect that Obama’s healthcare reform funds abortion. And maybe it does. For me that’s not really the point. In fact, it’s not the point at all. If an American citizen stands opposed to a woman’s right to choose abortion then that person has an obligation to educate and advocate for alternatives. That’s your right as an American. But to use an election to advance one’s own narrow personal agenda, one which restricts and curtails the personal rights of others, well that is the very definition of un-American.

There’s all kinds of craziness in this country. We can spend from dawn to dusk pointing fingers, picking up the banner, deriding and attacking the choices of others. But in the end it’s all personal in this country. And that's what makes so many others in this world want to come to this great country-- the opportunity to maintain their personal freedom.

I'm voting to keep it personal. I’m more than willing to give you room. All I ask is you do the same for others.

Off the Air

After dragging through another election cycle I cannot wait for Wednesday. After the last, what, 6 or 9 months of campaigning I am dumbfounded to think the ads make any difference to the thinking person. It is beyond comprehension that this fabulously expensive campaign process can continue where one ad after another pops up for/against the propositions, or for/against a certain candidate. The ads are so lacking substance, so obviously inflated with hyperbole, and so efficiently edited as to be be accurately described as political fictions-- loosely based on a true story.

What I would give for a fully web-based campaign process. Want to see where a candidate stands on abortion? Go to the website where it is printed in black and white-- yes, no, sometimes and when. No more backpedalling about being misunderstood. Want to read a narrative description of what would happen with taxes in my administration? Go to my website. And, at the same time, television and radio campaign advertising would be ushered out the way of tobacco.

Wouldn't that be nice to have kids ask if you remember television advertisements for political elections??  One problem: Eliminating campaign media advertising would cost jobs. Good American jobs. How un-American of me to suggest such a change.