All posts by David Todd

Health, home improvements, letters

Change Of Plans

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So far I’ve transcribed 2/3 of the letters in this box, and they run to 31 typed pages (the box is not full). Edit: The letters originally in this box are all transcribed. Many more are added and I’m just starting on those.

When I made my blog post on Friday, I had intended on the post for Monday to be the next in my series on racism, moving on from how to combat racist acts to how to end racism. But that’s not happening due to a change in plans.

You see, on Friday, while working in the storeroom, moving a smallish box of books, I caught my leg on a trunk on the floor and took a tumble forward. I dropped the box of books as I was going down to free up my hands to brace against the fall. I did this on another box of books that was on the floor in front of me.

A fall is never good, but I was glad this was a minor one. It’s the first one in the house, my several others having been outside. I tried to scoot a stick out of the road while walking and went down. I slipped on leaves in the woods and went down. I slipped on a slick driveway and went down. I slipped on an icy driveway at that neighbors and went down hard. That was in February 2018, and I haven’t fully healed from that. Otherwise, the falls outside didn’t do much damage. An hour or so after those others I was back about my tasks. I figured the one in the basement would be the same.

This plastic bin has more incoming letters than outgoing. Most are not from our overseas years. We will have a hard decision of what to do with them.

Alas, I soon after went upstairs to fix lunch and thought to myself, “Why is my knee hurting so much?” Then I remembered: I fell fifteen minutes ago. Ah, well, no big deal. I took an Aleve, ate lunch, then went to the sunroom to read. While there, my knee kept hurting. I looked down at it to check for swelling and saw that my leg was bleeding, down near the ankle. Obviously that came from raking across the trunk as I went down. Naturally it was my leg with the bad knee that I caught on the trunk.

I cleaned and bandaged the wound with a gauze pad and went back to my afternoon activities. Slowly my knee got worse, the pain being in unusual parts of the knee. And my leg started hurting below the knee all the way down from the ankle. Not the abrasion, which I could barely feel, but the shin and calf. It felt muscular, not skeletal. I was certain it wasn’t a break. Muscles and tendons or ligaments had suffered trauma. Just sitting in my reading chair in the living room was painful—as was lying on the floor on my stomach. Another Aleve didn’t do anything.

Slowly it got worse as evening wore on, the main pain being in the lower leg, not the knee. I went to bed a little early but couldn’t sleep. I used a topical muscle rub that may have helped some. But an hour and a half of tossing and turning caused me to move to my reading chair, then out to the sunroom. Eventually I was tired enough to sleep through the pain. But that was at least an hour after I took a hydrocodone pill.

Ah, this one had the Saudi and Kuwaiti year letters besides the 25 or so I started with. I see hours of enjoyable transcribing ahead.

Obviously my normal heavy yardwork on Saturday was out. I took it easy, reading, and transcribing letters. Same for Sunday, with some on-line church and Life Group thrown in. Came Saturday evening and I thought the leg felt better. Come the night and the pain was as bad as Friday night. I finally went to The Dungeon and laid back in the recliner. Finding a comfortable position was still hard, but I think I slept a little better than on Friday.

What does that have to do with my intended blog post? With my leg in more or less constant pain, I didn’t think I would be able to concentrate on the important topic of ending racism. So you have this fluff piece instead. The letter transcription was an enjoyable diversion. I completed the 28 letters I found a few weeks ago in an unexpected place in my mother-in-law’s things, all letters to her from our Kuwait years, all but a couple from Lynda to her mom. While I shouldn’t have, I decided to drag out the larger bin that has letters from Saudi and Kuwait.  Actually, I had to pull three different bins/boxes off the shelf to find the rest of the letters from the Kuwait years. I will consolidate all of them into a single box, properly label it with large, black lettering, and put it where I’ll never have to hunt for it again.

Letter transcribing doesn’t get the weeds pulled, or cut posts for the completion of the fort I’m building with the grandkids, or trim the bushes in the front yard. It doesn’t burn off the pounds I so definitely need to lose. It doesn’t get my novel-in-progress back to where I actually see progress. It provides great satisfaction for me, however. And it stirs the memory, as I read through things I experienced and documented but now don’t actively remember.

As of Sunday evening the text file of letters was up to 49 pages and just under 30,000 words. So far fewer than half the Kuwait letters are transcribed, and the Saudi letters are untouched. This will be a long project, most likely multi-year. What will be produced in the end is not yet clear. But at least I see hours and hours of what I would call oddball satisfaction for the transcriptionist.

books, Health, letters, memories, miscellaneous, stock market

A Strange but Good Day

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Tuesday, July 28, 2020. A most interesting day, and perhaps typical of the jumbled life I live right now.

You’d think life would be simple, being retired and mostly staying at home due to the corona virus pandemic. You’d be wrong, however. I suppose the reason is in part that I have too many interests. Let me catalog some events from the day.

So far I’ve transcribed 2/3 of the letters in this box, and they run to 31 typed pages (the box is not full).

I woke around 6:15 to see my digital alarm clock flashing. Must have been a power failure in the night, probably momentary but enough to reset the clock. I got up and weighed and checked my blood sugar. No change in weight (still at the lower end of the range I’ve been bouncing around in). My blood sugar was 81, a good number. The day before my new doctor’s nurse called to convey the doctor’s follow-up comments on recent blood work. All was normal, except iron, which is a little low. Since the nurse didn’t mention the reduction in insulin dose that the doctor said, and since that reduction wasn’t in the printed office visit summary they gave me, I told the nurse what my blood sugars had been with the lower dose—the same as they had been with the higher dose. She said she would tell the doctor. Fifteen minutes later the nurse called back and said the doctor wanted me to reduce my sugar further by a couple of units.

But that happened on Monday. I’m talking about Tuesday. It was raining at 6:15, which meant I wouldn’t be able to go outside for my morning yardwork. Instead, I went into the sunroom and just rested for 30 minutes. I then got up, dressed, got my morning coffee, and went down to The Dungeon for my normal work. Everything seemed very normal. I read devotions, prayed, recorded my health info, checked my book sales, opened my stock trading programs, then checked my e-mail. And the first surprise came.

I had an overnight e-mail from a man with Royal Australian College of General Practitioners. They wanted to use a photograph from this blog for training purposes; would I let them know how to acquire the rights to do so. Wow, this was strange. I spent 15-20 minutes trying to figure out if this was legit. I found web pages for that organization and it all looks legit, except the man’s name was nowhere on it. He’s in an administrative position, however, and they don’t list any administrators on the site. So I sent him an e-mail to try to verify that it’s a legitimate claim.

Shortly after this an e-mail came from Amazon, confirming my order for $543 and change. Except I have no orders outstanding with Amazon. I compared the e-mail with the one from my last order. They looked much the same but there were telltale differences. So I contacted Amazon, confirmed it was most likely a phishing attack, forwarded the e-mail to them for investigation, and went back to my normal business.

Normal business on a weekday includes stock trading. I placed a trade and it filled. Good work. Then, instead of working on one of my books, I began transcribing letters from our Kuwait years. Have I discussed this before on the blog? I can’t remember. I won’t go into it much now except to say that morning I transcribed three letters. That brings the total transcribed to sixteen. In the Word file they run to 24 pages. I have ten more to go in this box, and dozens more in the main box. These are just some I found lately going through my mother-in-law’s things as part of our decluttering effort. They will be added to the large plastic bin (30 x 24 x 6) full of other letters from our Kuwait and Saudi years, all waiting to be transcribed. I also managed to do a little over a half mile on the elliptical.

That got me to lunch time. From that point on the day seemed more or less normal. I made a quick run to the nearby Wal-Mart pharmacy for a couple of prescriptions, had some reading time in the sunroom since the day was cool enough. The wife and I did our evening reading in an Agatha Christie mystery. Normal seemed good.

Throughout the day I was careful of what I ate, though I wouldn’t say I dieted. Yet, when I weighed Wednesday morning I was at my lowest weight in over two months. I followed a similar eating regimen on Wednesday and we even lower on Thursday. This was while reducing my insulin dose (per doctor’s orders) and seeing only a small increase in my blood sugar. Maybe my health is improving.

As I finish this post on Thursday afternoon, I have a generally good feeling about where things stand. A good felling and outlook is…well… good. Bring on Friday. Bring on the isolated weekend. I might even get some time to work on a book or two.

America, Racism

Racism: Eradicating Racist Acts

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My prior posts in this series have laid out a case, however correct or incorrect, that racism and racist acts are two different things, the latter springing from the former, and that many people who are racists don’t realize they are racists. Needless to say, we ought to be eradicating racism from our country. We ought to be eradicating racist acts from our country. We all who detest racism ought to be engaged in the process of eradication. And, not everyone will have the same role in the eradication.

Now I come to a discussion of how we accomplish that eradication. First, what do we do about racist acts?

We have laws on the books against racist acts. Housing and employment cannot be denied on the basis of race. The right to vote has been established by law and regulation without consideration of race. Other laws have been enacted, supported by regulations. Enforcement efforts exist at the state and Federal level. Court cases have backed-up most of these laws and regulations.

Are they perfect? I’m sure they aren’t. We can always take a look at our laws, many of them passed in the 1960s, and see how they can be strengthened. That’s a job for lawmakers at different levels of government. For them to know this is needed they need the input of those tasked with implementing the laws and regulations. They need input from those who have been on the receiving end of racist acts. From the data received the legislators can make informed decisions on how to strengthen that which is intended to prevent racist acts.

But even if the laws and regulations are made perfect, their implementation will probably not be perfect because they will be implemented by imperfect people—people who may or may not be racists, or may be latent racists. What will correct this? Policies by institutions and businesses will help. These policies must be well written, widely disseminated, and fully explained to those who must abide by them. Each of those steps have lots of room for imperfection, and constant vigilance is needed by those who work with the policies and those who manage the policies.

This diligence is obviously needed at all levels of law enforcement. Officers and administrators much watch to see that racist acts don’t creep in, almost unrecognized, such that suddenly the law is being administered in a racist way. Again, administrators need feedback to know that their diligence isn’t sufficient.

Feedback. What do I mean by that? It can be data, data such as “unarmed blacks are three times more likely to be killed in an encounter with police than are unarmed whites.” Both races sometimes get killed. The numbers of unarmed men who are killed by police are small (maybe 30 people per year for all races), but the disparity is real. Such data needs to be gathered, examined, and lead to changes in administration. Yes, data is important feedback.

What other type of feedback? How about protests? Protests are a way to bring lack of equal enforcement to public notice so that something can be done about it. Administrators, no matter how well-intentioned, how well-trained, how diligent, are fallible. They can easily miss something going on during their watch. A protest can alert them to this. A protest can also generate public awareness that will put pressure on administrators to correct unlawful situations. This can apply to businesses as well as government.

This covers racist acts. Correct laws and regulations properly implemented and acidulously watched should put an end to racist acts. As a nation we aren’t there. Plus, that’s only part of the problem. We still have racism to deal with. That will be the subject of the next post in this series.

book reviews

Book Review: Bible Code II: The Countdown

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The second of three books in the Bible Code series. I just learned that the author died in June 2020.

Having finished reading another book aloud (which I haven’t reviewed yet, but will), I suggested to Lynda that we next read Bible Code II. I did this because we had read Bible Code 1 years ago, the sequel was sitting next to it, and I thought we could read the second and put both out for sale or donation. She agreed, and we read it.

The author, Michael Drosnin, has taken the computer work of Israeli mathematician Dr. Eliyahu Rips and written popular books about a hidden code in the Hebrew version of the Bible. The first book dealt with codes in the Torah, the first five books of the Old Testament, also called the books of Moses. The second book extends into the entire Old Testament. In the first book, Drosnin explained that the Hebrew text of the Torah as settled. No one disputed the exact arrangement of letters and words. However, as he explained in BC:2, that isn’t the case with the rest of the Old Testament. Some Hebrew text is disputed.

How does the code in the Bible work? You skip letters on a fixed pattern and see what results. Skip every other letter. Do the letters then brought together form a word? No? Skip two consecutive letters, putting every third letter together instead of every other. Maybe those, somewhere in the continuous string of letters that make up the O.T., form words of phrases. Sometimes you look for the words forwards in the text, sometimes backwards, sometimes diagonally.

With hundred of thousands of words and even more letters, you have an almost infinite number of possible skip patterns, you have many, many places to look for encoded words. Isaac Newton was convinced such a code and spent years trying to find it. Dr. Rips, however, had computers. He figured out how to put the skip pattern in a table, then search the table for recognizable words. He found many such words, words that seemed to predict world events long after the Bible was written. In Bible Code 1 Drosnin described the process. In Bible Code II he expanded on it. As a control, they tried the same thing with other books of a similar lengths, and learned that these books did not form words or phrases in similar skip patterns in any meaningful way.

The conclusion: The Hebrew Old Testament contains a code that predicts future events. Who wrote the code? To the secular Drosnin that is unknown. To the devout Dr. Rips it had to be God.

The problem is that most events found in the code are found after the event happened. G.W. Bush is elected president? Break out your computer, search for “Bush” with an infinite number of skip patterns and you’ll find it. A few times, however, an event was found before it happened. The code seemed to predict the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995, and was found in 1994 and communicated to Rabin. The assassination happened—in 1995.

In the Bible Code 2, published in 2002, six years after the first book, the main premise is that a nuclear holocaust was going to happen; it would start in Jerusalem and result in annihilation of the Israelis and the Palestinians. Like other coded events, it was tied to a year, in this case 2006.

Yes, 2006. Fourteen years ago. A major part of the book was a warning that we must somehow prevent this from happening. In 2002 world conditions looked awful. Iran was angling to get the bomb. The Palestinians were in the midst of the second Intifada and Israel was aggressively resisting. The 9/11 attacks were fresh on everyone’s mind. We seemed to be in the age of terrorism in a new way.

Yet, no nuclear holocaust occurred in 2006, of in 2007, or in 2008, or any year since.

Is the Bible code real? I have no idea and have no way of judging if Rips and Drosnin are doing something valuable of are engaged in a well-meaning smoke-and-mirrors error. I do know that Drosnin’s work receives lots of criticism.

Should you buy the book and use your valuable time reading it? Probably not. It’s somewhat boring and quite repetitive. It’s actually a quick read since much of the book is diagrams of the code, in Hebrew with English translations. I intend to do a little investigation from my reading chair and see what these gentlemen have said in the intervening years. And see what others are saying about the Bible code and its validity. If there is a Bible Code III, however, I for sure won’t be reading it.

If you want to look at this further, Wikipedia has an excellent article on the Bible code.

home improvements, The Teachings, Writing

The Busyness of the Moment

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We are in the dog days of summer, 2/3 of the way through July. It’s been in the 90s here for the last two weeks, and the 15 day forecast currently shows nothing but 90s. During this time I am busier than ever. Hence, I’m a little late with this blog post. What’s keeping me busy? Consider this.

  • In late June we had the tree guys here to cut back the trees away from the house before we get the new roof. To save a little, and because I try to keep the lots on either side of me neat, I had them just drop the branches to the ground and I would do the cleanup. I’m doing that now, an hour a day first thing in the morning, before the heat ramps up. Very tiring, but it’s a task that shows immediate results. I’m also finding lots of branches long and straight enough to cut to length for the final posts to finish the fort (more on that in another post).
  • Stock trading is busiest on Mondays and Fridays. Today I planned out and entered two trades, both of which filled. Now, fully invested, I get to sit back a little and see what the market does.
  • I’m in the midst of an on-line class/program to learn about advertising on Amazon. It includes six one-hour videos, five one-hour live sessions, a two-hour long webinar, and lots of homework. I’m finding it challenging, though I am learning something. I have three ads up, of three different types. They are for my book Doctor Luke’s Assistant. I’m behind watching the videos and creating ads, but I feel good about where I am. The program runs through next Monday so I have a lot of time to catch up.
  • Our de-cluttering/downsizing effort continues. When I look at the mess in the living room, with piles of greeting cards and letters sent to my mother-in-law over the years (and some sent to us), and in the dining room at the boxes of new greeting cards and note cards covering almost all the dining room table, I despair of ever completing it. The storage room is cleaner and better organized—and a little emptier. But if we can’t find a way to get rid of those brought upstairs, if they just get re-boxed and taken to the basement again, we are barely any better.
  • My hourly work for my former company happens to have ramped up in the last two to three weeks. The income is good, but the time it takes isn’t. I could refuse any or all assignments, but this work may go away almost entirely around October, so I hate to turn the work down right now.
  • Lynda and I have increased our reading time together. In the evening we will read perhaps 20 pages aloud from some book, then two chapters from the Bible. It’s enjoyable time. I plan on choosing some of these books with de-cluttering in mind, books we can read and discard/sell/donate afterwards.
  • I’ve had some things to do for Life Group at church, trying to lead the class into making decisions about meeting times and whether we will begin to meet in person soon, and if so, when and how. This doesn’t take a lot of time, but it’s another stick on the camel’s back.

You can see I haven’t had much time to think about this blog, or about writing. Is this a temporary period of busier than usual busyness? I hope so. Once I get past this brush clearing, get the contractor set up with the new roof and get it done, and once we can get a little breathing space on the de-cluttering, once the ad class is over and I have five to ten ads running, maybe I’ll be able to devote more time to my book and my blog. Hopefully I’ll be able to devote enough time this week to make my Friday post as the net one in my racism series.

Oh, yes, as of yesterday, blackberry picking season is over. That frees up three to four hours a week.

Racism

Latent Racism

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Some racism is obvious, and some people know they are racists in their hearts. Some know they commit racist acts. A couple of encounters I had with racists years ago were with people in this category. They are like drivers who purposely speed. They know the speed limit but have decided they will not be governed by it. When caught speeding, they are typically defiant and unremorseful, sorry for getting caught but not for speeding.

But I believe some people who are racists don’t realize they hold racist beliefs. They rarely commit racist acts. When they do it is most likely to be spoken racism, not some physical act. They are like drivers who generally follow the speed limit generally but are often careless and drive had a speed that is comfortable even though they exceed the speed limit. When caught speeding they are remorseful, but may not believe they were really speeding.

I call people who don’t realize they are racists “latent racists”, and their brand of racism is “latent racism”. This is my own definition. I’m sure there’s a more formal, official term for this, but I don’t know what it is.

I like the term latent racism. I developed it from a term used in the HVAC industry that I encountered many years ago when I did structural design of buildings. The HVAC guys were talking about “latent heat”. I asked what it was, and they said it was the heat that bodies give off just as a matter of living. It had nothing to do with the sun. For designing heating systems, they could take advantage of latent heat; but for designing air conditioning they had to overcome latent heat in addition to the sun’s rays.

Latent racists don’t realize they are racists. Somewhere in the past, perhaps from parents, other relatives, or acquaintances, they saw racism modeled. They never made a conscious decision to look down on someone not of their color, but their subconscious absorption of racist examples cause them to feel that way about people of a different color. They won’t commit a racist act, other than racist statements might pop out of their mouths from time to time.

That time in North Carolina that I wrote about in a prior post was active racism, by young white men who said if whites would just band together “we can keep the blacks in their place.” Despicable. These are the type of people who carry torches in homage to Confederate statues.

But I can think of other times when I’ve encountered racism by people who don’t realize they are being racist. I want to be careful how I word this so as not to identify anyone. An older man in the church once said, in my presence, that he was organizing the neighborhood to “keep the Hispanics out” by making sure no one selling their home dropped the price to a threshold at which Hispanics would buy. This is actually a good man and, I’m sure, doesn’t see himself as racist. Keeping the racial homogeneity of the neighborhood was not, to his way of thinking, racist. He was a latent racist committing a latent racist statement in front of me. Whether he actually did what he said—organize the neighborhood—I don’t know. It wasn’t long after that I lost contact with him.

That may not be the best example of latent racism. Let me give another example, being equally vague about the circumstances and the person. This person said to me, during the 2016 presidential campaign, “Do you think Hillary will have her black people with her [at that event]?” I was shocked, for this was a godly person. I realized this person had grown up in an area where there were no people of color, had never (or almost never) lived around or even been around people of color. Obviously, with a statement like that there was racism in the person’s heart, but I don’t think the person even realized it.

Or, another example, being equally vague, of someone connected with a school district, began spouting off how the blacks won’t learn, the Hispanics won’t learn, you can’t teach them, they won’t behave, etc. etc. I got angry that time and said something and got the person to stop. This person, if you asked him/her, would say they were not racist, yet they clearly were.

I should add that, of late, I have seen an awful lot of latent racist statements on social media, people saying things they don’t realize are racist. If you confronted them they would say, “That’s not racist, I’m not a racist.” They might even say, “There is no racism.” Coming to a conclusion that there is no racism is, I believe, a sign that a person is a latent racist.

Why am I going on about this? I’ve been building up to a conclusion about how I think we should deal with racism but I felt I needed to set the stage of how I see racism. If we are going to combat it we have to understand it. How does a person become a latent racist? I think obviously by example of others, both open racists and latent racists. It’s learned by “osmosis”, not by active teaching.

So, I’m at the end of my post. And I’m pretty much at the end of setting the stage, explaining the problem. In my next post in the series, I’ll start talking about what I see are solutions to the problem. I don’t know if that will be in my next post or if I will have to take a little more time to pull it all together.

memories

R.I.P. Gary T. Boden

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Gary, when I first knew him at Cranston High School East, class of 1970.

I’m at the age where I’m much closer to death than to birth, and more people I know are dying than people I will know are being born. The circle is shrinking. Parents are gone. One sibling is gone. Four of the fourteen in my paternal first cousin group are gone. Of my high school class of 725 people, we know over 80 are dead, and maybe others.

From our college yearbook, as we went to different parts of the nation.

That number went up by one last week when one of my best friends, Gary Boden, lost his battle with cancer and went on to his heavenly reward. Gary and I went to high school together, and met, not in class, but running track. Gary was a hurdler, I was a middle-distance runner. We got to know each other a little during practices. We knew each other well enough that he signed my yearbook; maybe I signed his, don’t remember. This was the start of our friendship. To the best of my recollection we never had any classes together.

Then, in June 1970, many of us in my class went to freshman week at the University of Rhode Island. This was a two-day stay in one of the dorms. I don’t remember who I roomed with, but I remember Gary and I hung out together most of the two days. We played pool in the basement of the dorm (Barlow Hall, I think) most of the night, going to bed just before daylight when we knew we would have to get up in a couple of hours.

A number of us Cranston East alums hung out together during freshman year. Gary and I learned we had much in common. We were both boy scouts (he made eagle, I didn’t). My grandparents lived on the west side of Point Judith Pond—I spent summers there; his parents had a summer home on the east side of the pond. We could see each other’s summer place, 2/3 mile apart by water, 6 miles by land. During the summer Gary worked at the Burger Chef in Wakefield; I got a job at that Burger Chef late freshman year and worked there till my last semester. During the summer, Gary would just be getting off when I came in, and we had a chance to talk a while. One summer afternoon I swam across the pond and showed up at their house in just my swim trunks. We both liked sailing and had small sailboats, and occasionally met in the pond and then had friendly races (which I won, more based on the character of the two boats rather than the sailing skill of the victor).

Our gang of four, a mini-reunion in 2010 on one of my trips to RI. We would meet two more times before Gary’s death.

We were in the same suite together junior year, along with other Cranston kids. That was for just one semester, when I moved out of the dorm to live “down the line” with my grandparents. Upon graduation, I packed almost everything I owned in my Plymouth Valiant and moved to Kansas City for work. Gary went straight on to Cornell and earned his master’s degree. I eventually got mine as I worked. I called him a couple of times on his birthdays while he was in Ithaca, thus keeping in touch.

My life pulled me even farther away in the 1980s and we had few contacts. One was in 1980 during one of my trips back to Rhode Island. I saw Gary and Gayle during their engagement. I had learned that our common friend, Chuck Nevola, had planned a surprise bachelor party for him. I almost spilled the beans when I saw Gary and Gayle. She looked aghast (Gary didn’t see it), but I caught myself and we pulled off the surprise the next day. Six or seven of us took him to Ann & Hope as a ruse, then on to Valli’s Steak house for the real party.

A professional photo of Gary in his later years.

I’m not sure when we next saw each other. We exchanged a few Christmas cards, but it was in the 1990s, after I’d returned to the States and moved to Arkansas, that we began the regular visits every few years when I went back to the old haunts. Four of us got together for an evening: Gary, Chuck, Joe Farina, and me. A couple of times the wives joined us (though never all four wives at a time), but usually it was just us four, sharing old times and solving the world’s problems.

We didn’t exchange many letters. Once e-mail came in we communicated that way. Once Messenger came in we exchanged messages that way. If I could gather them all up it would be a fair number of letters. I hope to do that some day. I looked at our e-mails last night, and found many more than I expected. I see pleasurable reading ahead.

Gary was a lover of literature. I was a hater of literature—until I started writing books. After that, Gary became a reviewer for me, a beta reader. He read advanced copies of several of my books and gave me good advice on making them better. When he read In Front Of Fifty Thousand Screaming People he told me, “You set this up so well for the sequel”, to which I said, “There isn’t going to be a sequel.” He came back with five or six plot lines that he thought were not finished and would make a good sequel. I saw he was right, and Headshots was the result. I became a better writer because of Gary.

I could go on and on. A friendship of 52 years is not easily condensed into a single blog post. Let me just say that, though it has been five years since our last gang of four meeting, I will miss Gary much, for the rest of my life. I take comfort, and I know his wife and daughter do as well, that we know where he is right now, and that his eternal reward is a fitting end to his life here. He has now heard his Savior say,

Well done, good and faithful servant. Come and share your master’s happiness.

Politics, Racism

Fighting Racism: One Size Does Not Fit All

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In prior posts in this series, I discussed the difference between racism (what occurs in the hearts of men) and racist acts (what is done in the open as a result of racism in the heart—actually, I suppose racist acts can be done privately), which includes speech.

Why do I differentiate between racism and racist acts? Because it is possible to deal with racist acts through legislation, regulations, corporate policy, and public pressure. Racism, however, cannot be dealt with in the same way. Since racism is inside a person, ending racism requires a change of the heart. Racism gives rise to racist acts.

So, if racism and racist acts are different, the former giving rise to the latter, and if different means are necessary to combat them, then obviously you need people who can work the different approaches.

I say this because of statements I see on Facebook about the needs to scream out “Justice for George Floyds” or “I can’t breath” or “Black lives matter”. One friend, a woman fellow-writer I know only from on-line writer groups, went as far as to say:

If you aren’t outraged over this, if you aren’t willing to shout Black Lives Matter on Facebook, then go ahead and unfriend me now.

That’s an approximate quote. I commented on her post, went back recently on her timeline, to review her post and the comments I and she made to it. Here’s her post.

No disrespect to anyone, if you found out I unfriended you. This isn’t coming from hatred, but anyone who posts All Lives Matter, anyone who posts negative comments toward the protestors, anyone who hasn’t mentioned anything about what’s going on AND hasn’t even liked any of my posts to show they care are being deleted off my FB.
You don’t need me in your life, and quite frankly I don’t need you either

I pointed out to her, lovingly I believe, that this essentially says, “Unless you fight racism the way I’m fighting racism you’re doing it wrong and we can’t be friends.” She’s giving a one-size-fits-all approach. I simply can’t agree with that.

Some people are called to fight racism through legislation. Some people must work on regulations. Some have to strengthen these. Some have to see them properly and diligently implemented from administrative positions. Some need to do the same from a law enforcement position. Some need to attack it from the judicial system.

All of those in the previous paragraph relate to racist acts, not racism. Clearly one person isn’t able to do all those things in the fight to achieve racial equality. The pathway is clear, I believe, in how to combat racist acts. We as a society may disagree in a few particulars, but the general approach can be figured out and tackled.

Concerning racism, the means of combating it is also clear, though more difficult. You have to change men’s hearts. You have to help them come to an understanding that all races are equal before God and  thus should be in society. An honest belief that is true. A belief that results in their changing their behavior. Needless to say, before you can help another to come to this belief you must have that as your own belief. You must change your own heart.

Except, as a Christian I don’t believe that changing the heart is something man can do. Only God can change a heart.

That doesn’t mean that man has no part in dealing with racism in the heart. What man can do is help other men to see the error of their beliefs and urge them to bring the matter before God, asking for God’s help, His intervention. That’s our part in this equation.

How do we do that? What can we do to help people see the racism within them and do something about it? How can we help a person who has nothing to do with God to seek His help in the matter? I’m not sure I have all the answers to this. But I’m sure that if one size doesn’t fit all in the grand approach to combating racism, then one size doesn’t fit all in dealing with the range of people who hold racist views. What helps one person won’t help another.

Where does that leave us? Where are we on the spectrum of combating racism? Where am I? I’ll deal with this in my next post. For now I’ll just say that my friend’s approach, a one-size-fits-all approach, is insufficient to end racism. I’d like to think my comments made a difference in what she believes. A post she made later suggests that she agrees with me, and that her earlier post didn’t accurately reflect what she thinks about combating racism.

home improvements, miscellaneous, reading

A Day Late and Still Not There

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Yesterday, when I started my day after sleeping in because I had trouble sleeping Sunday night, I opened my computer after devotions and prayer, and realized I hadn’t written my Monday blog post. I quickly logged in here and entered the title I had planned. Then the day got away from me.

So much to do in retirement, so little time. I never got back to my post. But, I had a good day. I finished clearing the tree cuttings away from the house so that the roofers will have a clear pathway when they come. I did my reading in the afternoon and evenings. I worked my stock trading business. I spent several hours on the current decluttering project. Supper was just leftovers so easy to fix.

When I finally dropped into bed about 11:30 p.m., I didn’t have too much trouble falling asleep.

Today, I’ll do it all over again. I’ve already made two stock trades. After breakfast I’ll head outside and continue to move the brush further into the woods and make piles. In the afternoon I’ll read, declutter, and maybe write. My plans are to start some notes, in my journal (which I haven’t written in for over a year, this blog somewhat filling the role of a journal for me), and be ready to start writing tomorrow.

Look for Monday’s promised post on Friday. After that, I hope to be more faithful in my current series of posts.

miscellaneous

Still Hard To Give This Blog My Attention

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Well, in my last post I said I was almost back to normal and that I would get back to my regular blogging topics by today. But today came, and here I am with no draft of a new post, no schedule of posts, no nothing.

So here is a nothing post. This morning I went out early to beat the heat and clear away the tree cuttings that the tree guy did last Saturday. In an hour and a half I got a lot done. I think I can have most of the small stuff cleared in less than a month.

Then I took a couple of hours at the computer. I did my trade business accounting, then worked on the cover for my completed genealogy book. I was surprised that, though I haven’t used G.I.M.P. for over four months, I was able to pull a simple cover together. Tomorrow I might be able to do all the other publishing tasks.

Then there was the weekly trip to Wal-Mart for groceries. That always tires me out, but today I did it slowly, since I was already tired, and so when I got home I was no worse off than when I went.

Now it’s 3 in the afternoon. I sense a nap coming on. Though maybe not. I want to read some in a book and a magazine. It might be too hot in the sunroom to do so and I may have to go to The Dungeon, where it’s cooler.

Maybe I’ll be able to get back to the blog schedule with meaningful posts. See you all on Monday.