"AS A YOUNG MAN I BEGAN LIFE BY SEEKING TO ASSERT MY RIGHTS AND I SOON DISCOVERED I HAD NONE NOT EVEN OVER MY WIFE. SO I BEGAN BY DISCOVERING AND PERFORMING MY DUTY BY MY WIFE MY CHILDREN FRIENDS COMPANIONS AND SOCIETY AND I FIND TODAY THAT I HAVE GREATER RIGHTS, PERHAPS THAN ANY LIVING MAN I KNOW." - Cable to H.G. Wells, The Hindustan Times, 16 April 1940
America won. I don't say that with any pride, in fact, it gives me sort of a sick feeling inside.
Hedonism, consumerism, greed have been spread across the globe.
In 2003 (!), the China Daily announced that the 100th Kentucky Fried Chicken had opened in Beijing. Wikipedia lists 97 countries with KFC franchises including Iran, Pakistan, Kazakhstan, Syria, Yemen and nearly every other country in the Muslim world.
Is it any wonder that so much of the planet hates us?
In 1886, the Supreme Court of the United States made corporations 'people .' As 'people,' they have rights. Unfortunately, the Supreme Court did not give corporations souls.
Even in this country there is a love/hate relationship with the facts. Corporate America brings money and jobs, and with the money comes freedom and democracy. Liberal Americans also note that it comes with ecological damage and health damage. Conservative Americans note the sex and drugs.
'People' without souls are sociopaths.
10 May 2011
09 May 2011
On Osama's Death
A friend wanted to know what I thought about the killing of Osama bin Laden .
I've had a theory for a long time that the next step in human evolution would not be physical but spiritual - homo spiritus. It's not a new idea.
Evolution is not revolution. In evolution the new live among the old. The new don't kill off the old, they simply live longer and have more successful progeny; successful in the biological sense.
I think this is why so many of us seek guidance and sustenance of a higher power. We want to evolve. Some of that seeking leads to evolutionary dead-ends. Forms of creation that become too twisted to survive.
I'm not advocating killing such creatures off. The thing about evolution is that we don't have to kill them off.
I don't know whether Osama was a failed step on the evolutionary road. I just hope he was.
I was also thinking about what kind of a little boy Osama was. How was he raised? Did his mother and father love and nurture him or was he raised by surrogates? Did he have friends? Did he get to play silly games?
I don't think hatred is natural. I think it is learned. We see those around us frightened. We see fear become anger. We see sustained, unresolved anger become hate.
And our fear becomes anger.
And our anger becomes hate.
And we kill what we hate.
I've had a theory for a long time that the next step in human evolution would not be physical but spiritual - homo spiritus. It's not a new idea.
Evolution is not revolution. In evolution the new live among the old. The new don't kill off the old, they simply live longer and have more successful progeny; successful in the biological sense.
I think this is why so many of us seek guidance and sustenance of a higher power. We want to evolve. Some of that seeking leads to evolutionary dead-ends. Forms of creation that become too twisted to survive.
I'm not advocating killing such creatures off. The thing about evolution is that we don't have to kill them off.
I don't know whether Osama was a failed step on the evolutionary road. I just hope he was.
I was also thinking about what kind of a little boy Osama was. How was he raised? Did his mother and father love and nurture him or was he raised by surrogates? Did he have friends? Did he get to play silly games?
I don't think hatred is natural. I think it is learned. We see those around us frightened. We see fear become anger. We see sustained, unresolved anger become hate.
And our fear becomes anger.
And our anger becomes hate.
And we kill what we hate.
20 April 2011
Parenting Strangers, Grand Final - State Owned
They live in my house, but they're not my kids. They are owned by the State of Texas.
My wife and I are 'Professional Parents.' The state hires us to raise their kids.
We wanted a second or third grader. You know...young, cute, malleable, easy, sweet. We wanted a child without parents, a true orphan. Instead they gave us a really angry thirteen year old on heavy medication with a psycho-mother.
And we fell in love.
When a child first comes into your house, you have a couple of days to make sure its a fit. We knew almost immediately when this young lady entered our house that it was a fit. It was like we took one sniff and recognized that this was one of our own children who had been lost to us at birth. Maybe it was just because she was our first. We've never had this experience with any of the other young ladies that have come into our home.
We always come to love the kids in our home. We knew we would. It's just how we're built.
She's been with us for three years and will probably be with us until she graduates high school. Other young ladies have come and gone. Some for short periods, some for long. Some successful - in college. Some failures - handcuffs.
Right now, we have a young lady preparing to graduate high school and go on to college as well as our sixteen year old.
When you take a young person into your house as foster parents, they come with a lot of baggage. And not just the suit case and boxes and bags of stuff. Our lives are filled with judges and lawyers and case managers and case workers and therapists and mothers and siblings. We are inspected twice a month by the state to see that their children are all right. We get inspected by our case manager quarterly to make sure we are conforming to the law. We see two judges at least twice a year. They each visit their mothers semi-regularly. They both see a therapist at least twice a month. It can be a regular three ring circus.
And then there's the medications. Many places that take these kids use medication to control their behavior. Some need it. Many don't. And there's no one to help you figure it out.
It is the best thing we have ever done.
My wife and I are 'Professional Parents.' The state hires us to raise their kids.
We wanted a second or third grader. You know...young, cute, malleable, easy, sweet. We wanted a child without parents, a true orphan. Instead they gave us a really angry thirteen year old on heavy medication with a psycho-mother.
And we fell in love.
When a child first comes into your house, you have a couple of days to make sure its a fit. We knew almost immediately when this young lady entered our house that it was a fit. It was like we took one sniff and recognized that this was one of our own children who had been lost to us at birth. Maybe it was just because she was our first. We've never had this experience with any of the other young ladies that have come into our home.
We always come to love the kids in our home. We knew we would. It's just how we're built.
She's been with us for three years and will probably be with us until she graduates high school. Other young ladies have come and gone. Some for short periods, some for long. Some successful - in college. Some failures - handcuffs.
Right now, we have a young lady preparing to graduate high school and go on to college as well as our sixteen year old.
When you take a young person into your house as foster parents, they come with a lot of baggage. And not just the suit case and boxes and bags of stuff. Our lives are filled with judges and lawyers and case managers and case workers and therapists and mothers and siblings. We are inspected twice a month by the state to see that their children are all right. We get inspected by our case manager quarterly to make sure we are conforming to the law. We see two judges at least twice a year. They each visit their mothers semi-regularly. They both see a therapist at least twice a month. It can be a regular three ring circus.
And then there's the medications. Many places that take these kids use medication to control their behavior. Some need it. Many don't. And there's no one to help you figure it out.
It is the best thing we have ever done.
19 April 2011
Parenting Strangers, part 2 - Thugs & Gangsters
First, a fact - better than 30% of the kids that enter high school do not graduate. It's been that way for a long time.
In the early 90's, I took a job with the City in a youth program that didn't yet exist. The idea was simple. Hire kids who had dropped out, were on probation or parole, and give them a job and teach them primary job skills.
Primary job skills are the stuff most of us understand without being taught; how to show up, how to show up on time, how to dress appropriately, how to take instruction from a supervisor, etc. Stuff we learned because our parents cared enough to send us to school everyday, on time, looking nice, and then asked us in the evening how school went and whether or not we had any homework. Stuff we learned because our parents had jobs.
We hired four kids and we were lucky. The first four were bright and wanted a chance to do something with their lives. They all had rap-sheets as long as your arm and had spent considerable time in juvenile detention. One of them was arrested and sent to prison along with a couple of his buddies for carjacking and killing an old man after he'd been with us for about six months. The other three had jobs, one was married, and they were doing well last time I checked.
My job was to take out a work crew and mow all the Fire Department properties in the city. It's a big city. There are a lot of Fire Stations ranging in size from half an acre to twenty acres. That first year was a challenge. I lead by example.
The program was a success. After a year, we hired more leaders and more kids and took on new jobs.
The City Management was confused. We were successful, i.e., our kids stayed out of jail when they were with us and for long afterwords and organization from all over the country were surprised and envious of our success. But the liability of having large numbers of thugs and gangsters on the city payroll was a strain on their tolerance.
I loved the kids. But the City Management was horrible. So bad, I finally quit in the year 2000.
There were other factors; personal issues and a desire to write.
In the early 90's, I took a job with the City in a youth program that didn't yet exist. The idea was simple. Hire kids who had dropped out, were on probation or parole, and give them a job and teach them primary job skills.
Primary job skills are the stuff most of us understand without being taught; how to show up, how to show up on time, how to dress appropriately, how to take instruction from a supervisor, etc. Stuff we learned because our parents cared enough to send us to school everyday, on time, looking nice, and then asked us in the evening how school went and whether or not we had any homework. Stuff we learned because our parents had jobs.
We hired four kids and we were lucky. The first four were bright and wanted a chance to do something with their lives. They all had rap-sheets as long as your arm and had spent considerable time in juvenile detention. One of them was arrested and sent to prison along with a couple of his buddies for carjacking and killing an old man after he'd been with us for about six months. The other three had jobs, one was married, and they were doing well last time I checked.
My job was to take out a work crew and mow all the Fire Department properties in the city. It's a big city. There are a lot of Fire Stations ranging in size from half an acre to twenty acres. That first year was a challenge. I lead by example.
The program was a success. After a year, we hired more leaders and more kids and took on new jobs.
The City Management was confused. We were successful, i.e., our kids stayed out of jail when they were with us and for long afterwords and organization from all over the country were surprised and envious of our success. But the liability of having large numbers of thugs and gangsters on the city payroll was a strain on their tolerance.
I loved the kids. But the City Management was horrible. So bad, I finally quit in the year 2000.
There were other factors; personal issues and a desire to write.
15 April 2011
Parenting Strangers, part 1 - The Early Years
I began working with children shortly after my 10-month old son died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome in 1982. I was attending the University of Texas after 4 years in the Air Force. I came home one afternoon and got a phone call that my son was in the hospital. By the time I got there, he was pronounced dead.
A few months later, a friend at the Episcopalian/Anglican church we were attending asked if I wanted to teach a Sunday School Class of second graders. I don't know why I said yes. I had volunteered in Headstart during college and the experience was wonderful, and I loved being a Sunday School teacher.
Normally, I am a shy and reclusive person, but in front of a group of children, I am transformed into an outgoing, silly person. I loved that me.
After several years of teaching Sunday School, a voice inside me (I think it was God) began to nudge me toward working with teenagers. I was frightened, but I gave it a try as a volunteer with the youth group at my church. I love the earnestness of teenagers. I love the struggle they have to become individuals, to discover their own unique identity. I love their passion.
And I discovered an honesty in myself that was lacking. To reach teenagers, I had to dig deep into myself. Some of what I found, I didn't like and it took me years to dredge that filth up into the light and let go of it.
I also discovered a wacky sense of humor to which teenagers responded. A line from W.C. Fields always runs through my head. "You take life too seriously. I was only trying to guess your weight." Because teenagers are earnest in the extreme. So many teens think that every little thing in life has great depth and meaning. Life does have depth and meaning, but if I don't laugh, that only leaves crying and I don't cope well when I'm crying.
A few months later, a friend at the Episcopalian/Anglican church we were attending asked if I wanted to teach a Sunday School Class of second graders. I don't know why I said yes. I had volunteered in Headstart during college and the experience was wonderful, and I loved being a Sunday School teacher.
Normally, I am a shy and reclusive person, but in front of a group of children, I am transformed into an outgoing, silly person. I loved that me.
After several years of teaching Sunday School, a voice inside me (I think it was God) began to nudge me toward working with teenagers. I was frightened, but I gave it a try as a volunteer with the youth group at my church. I love the earnestness of teenagers. I love the struggle they have to become individuals, to discover their own unique identity. I love their passion.
And I discovered an honesty in myself that was lacking. To reach teenagers, I had to dig deep into myself. Some of what I found, I didn't like and it took me years to dredge that filth up into the light and let go of it.
I also discovered a wacky sense of humor to which teenagers responded. A line from W.C. Fields always runs through my head. "You take life too seriously. I was only trying to guess your weight." Because teenagers are earnest in the extreme. So many teens think that every little thing in life has great depth and meaning. Life does have depth and meaning, but if I don't laugh, that only leaves crying and I don't cope well when I'm crying.
12 April 2011
Sloth
"But my creed is non-violence under all circumstances. My method is conversion, not coercion; it is self-suffering, not the suffering of the tyrant. I know that method to be infallible. I know that a whole people can adopt it without understanding its philosophy. People generally do not understand the philosophy of all their acts." - 'Independence v. Swaraj,' Young India, 12 Jan. 1928
I'm one of those people who does not understand the philosophy. In fact, for me, philosophy is a dirty word.
I don't often struggle with knowing what the right thing to do is, I struggle with doing it.
That's why I read Gandhi, Dr. King, John Lewis, Dorothy Day, Daniel and Philip Berrigan, and others who think and write about non-violence - to motivate me to action. They know the philosophy much better than I ever could.
My sin is laziness.
I'm one of those people who does not understand the philosophy. In fact, for me, philosophy is a dirty word.
I don't often struggle with knowing what the right thing to do is, I struggle with doing it.
That's why I read Gandhi, Dr. King, John Lewis, Dorothy Day, Daniel and Philip Berrigan, and others who think and write about non-violence - to motivate me to action. They know the philosophy much better than I ever could.
My sin is laziness.
11 April 2011
Duck and Cover II
"I must not contemplate darkness before it stares me in the face. And in no case can I be party, irrespective of non-violence, to a universal strike and capture of power. Though, therefore, I do not know what I should do in the case of a breakdown, I know that the actuality will find me ready with an alternative. My sole reliance being on the living Power which we call God, He will put the alternative in my hands when the time has come, not a minute sooner." - 'Independence,' Harijan, 28 July 1946 (from The Essential Writings of Mahatma Gandhi edited by Raghavan Iyer)
Since my first air raid drill when I was seven, 1962, ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_tKAg5KIuQ), I have contemplated darkness. Even a seven year old knew that nuclear war would be apocalyptic.
By the age of seventeen, I didn't believe I would live to be thirty. Someone would use 'the bomb.' And not just one bomb, but lots and lots and lots of bombs.
Miracles happen. 'The bomb' has never been used...so far.
In this country (USA), politicians talk about the 'third rail' of politics (the 'third rail' refers to a dangerous, not-to-be-touched, train rail between the two main rails that provides electricity for subway systems and the like). By that they mean the government provided social safety net that prevents the elderly, the disabled, and children from starving to death or dying from disease.
My country still has thousands of nuclear bombs buried in corn fields in Kansas. Still has them deep under the oceans in submarines. Still keeps them loaded on airplanes that are flying at the edge of the go/no-go line. No one ever talks about the fact that this country is still prepared to destroy the planet on a moments notice.
This is not the third rail of American politics. This is buried in our backyard.
There I go again, contemplating darkness.
Miracles happen.
I believe with Gandhi, that God will put alternatives in our hands and until then, I must learn to hope and I must work for peace.
Since my first air raid drill when I was seven, 1962, ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_tKAg5KIuQ), I have contemplated darkness. Even a seven year old knew that nuclear war would be apocalyptic.
By the age of seventeen, I didn't believe I would live to be thirty. Someone would use 'the bomb.' And not just one bomb, but lots and lots and lots of bombs.
Miracles happen. 'The bomb' has never been used...so far.
In this country (USA), politicians talk about the 'third rail' of politics (the 'third rail' refers to a dangerous, not-to-be-touched, train rail between the two main rails that provides electricity for subway systems and the like). By that they mean the government provided social safety net that prevents the elderly, the disabled, and children from starving to death or dying from disease.
My country still has thousands of nuclear bombs buried in corn fields in Kansas. Still has them deep under the oceans in submarines. Still keeps them loaded on airplanes that are flying at the edge of the go/no-go line. No one ever talks about the fact that this country is still prepared to destroy the planet on a moments notice.
This is not the third rail of American politics. This is buried in our backyard.
There I go again, contemplating darkness.
Miracles happen.
I believe with Gandhi, that God will put alternatives in our hands and until then, I must learn to hope and I must work for peace.
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