So, a few of you “tune in” every Monday and Friday to see what news I have to post. I must disappoint you at the moment, for I have no news. Or, actually, I have a little news but no time to write. I’ll hopefully get back here before the end of the day and add what the news is.
Category Archives: miscellaneous
Patriotism vs Nationalism
I’m going to write and post this, but it will be far from complete, and I’ll have to follow-up with supplemental posts in due course. I write this during the wave of very vocal public opinion after San Francisco 49er quarterback Colin Kaepernick refused to stand for the national anthem during a preseason game a week or two ago. Public opinion seems to be against what Kaepernick did, but you can hear voices on the opposite side, ranging from “no big deal” to “he did the right thing.”
For a while now I’ve thought about this. By that I mean long, long before Kaepernick decided to exercise his First Amendment rights with apparent disregard for what impression it would make and effects it could have. Or perhaps he did think them through, though some of his comments since then make me think he didn’t. I’m thinking back to the flap when then-presidential candidate Barack Obama didn’t wear a U.S. flag lapel pin. There was some outrage at the time, but it all blew over; most people won’t remember it without prompting.
My thoughts at the time were that I wasn’t particularly concerned with outward gestures that people define as patriotism. I’m concerned with actual acts of patriotism. I’m concerned with people living their lives as a patriots, not mindlessly participating in rote ceremonies that have become mostly without meaning.
Don’t get me wrong: I always respect our flag, and think about what it stands for every time I’m involved in a ceremony. Heck, I remember a time at URI, gotta be 44 years ago at least, because I was living on campus. It was a very cold winter day. I was dressed in my surplus U.S. Navy bridge coat, the one I had my brother get when Cranston High School East declared them surplus, having bought true warm-up jackets for the football team. It was a heavy, heavy coat, but it sure kept me warm. It was late in the day and I was heading across the quadrangle, in the direction away from the dorms (so maybe I was going to an evening class or exam). Wherever the flag pole was on the quad (seems like maybe it was a flagpole close to Bliss Hall), they were striking the colors for the evening. I don’t remember who was doing it; I don’t think it was a formal ceremony, just someone taking the flag down. I stopped, took off my red and black hunter’s hat, and stood at attention with my hand over my heart, until the flag was down and folded and being carried away to overnight storage. I doubt too many people ever did that in the URI quad.
So the flag is important to me, and that wasn’t a meaningless gesture on my part. But, I have to say, that respect for the flag is not patriotism. It’s nationalism. What’s the difference, you wonder? My desk dictionary has a slight variation in the definition of the two. Patriotism is listed as a synonym for nationalism, but not the other way around. Nationalism includes this alternate definition: excessive, narrow, or jingoistic patriotism. Oh, that’s not nice. The definition it give for patriotism is: love and loyal or zealous support of one’s own country. Yeah, I like that.
So is standing for and singing the national anthem, with your hand over your heart—or if you can’t sing just being quiet and respectful—an act of patriotism, or of nationalism? If it’s done for show, or because you’re supposed to do it, or merely because people are expecting you to do it, then it’s at best nationalism, and at worse mindlessness. The best you can say about it is it can be an example to others, and perhaps encourage others to learn to respect and love their country.
So what is patriotism? In a previous post I mentioned that my dad was a patriot, and I gave reasons why I thought he was. However, I’m going to hold off on completing these thoughts. I want to take time to properly develop them. Perhaps it will be my next post, or even one or two after that.
Noon Hour Musings
Saturday, August 20, 2016, writing about Friday
The morning suggested we would get rain. Radar showed it close at hand. But, when I looked outside the windows at noon, the sky seemed lighter than it had an hour ago. I went outside, walked to the north side of the building, where the break room is, and got my bag lunch out of the fridge. Our building is being remodeled, and right now the middle of the building is closed to us. So we have to go outside to go between the north and south parts of the building.
Lunch eaten, I decided to risk the rain and take a walk. One circuit up and down the commercial subdivision road is a half-mile. On days when it’s not too hot I like to do a mile. In these hot days of summer, I walk less, and stay on a shorter route that has more shade than direct sunshine. But on Friday I decided to take the full route. Naturally, as soon as I get a ways away from the building the sun breaks through the clouds. I should have taken the shade route.
I enjoyed the walk, Normally I sing as I walk at noon. The sight distance is good. I can see if anyone is up ahead, and can quit when I need to. Some days I sing oldies; some worship songs; some hymns. I tend to sing songs I’ve written lyrics to. To clarify, I don’t write songs. But from time to time I’ll take the lyrics of a song and either add a verse or improve on them. I like to take secular songs I like and write Christian lyrics to them. Every now and then an idea comes to me on how to improve them, or even for something new. I guess I’ve changed or completely rewritten the lyrics on between 5 and 10 songs.
But on Friday I didn’t feel like singing. I walked in silence, my mind full of the many things I have to do in life, how some were going well, some not so well, none seemingly ever finished. A scheduling problem that needs to be worked out over the next three weeks was up front, dominating my thoughts. I was hoping another person was going to step up and take care of this, but it seems like that’s not going to happen. So the things that will need to be done presented themselves like a to do list in my mind.
I didn’t take time to sing, or to watch the birds go by, or to observe the condition of the vegetation all around me. I suppose work was going on at the large construction site right next to our office complex, but I wasn’t aware of what was going on, so all consuming was the problem I was working through.
But the sun came out more fully, about the time I was on the part of the loop farthest from any trees. I decided I’d just do a half mile. The temperature wasn’t too hot—in the upper 80s, but I still didn’t feel like doing the whole mile.
I got back into the building and immediately had a large cup of cold water, to re-hydrate. The scheduling problem wasn’t fixed. I still had a full afternoon of work at the office, with more work to do when I got home in the evening. But I felt better for walking. I’d burned a few calories, worked my brain.
So what was the point of this blog post? I haven’t added to the collective wisdom of the world. I guess I worked my brain, on a day when I was working my body with menial, occasional tasks. So that’s good.
The 2016 Presidential Election in Lightbulbs
I should be posting something today, and had intended to post about what writing I’m doing. But honestly, I’m rather brain weary right now, so instead I’m going to post something I posted on Facebook, something I wrote that I find funny, about the 2016 presidential election. You may not find it funny, but I do.
How many Donald Trumps does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: One: He holds the light bulb and waits for the world to revolve around him.
How many Hillary Clintons does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: 45,000,548: one to change the light bulb; 10 to make sure they’re doing it right; 535 members of Congress to enact laws to govern light bulbs; 1 president to sign the bill into law; one vice president to stand around looking stupid during the signing ceremony; 4 million staffers at the DOE, OSHA, DOL, and other Federal agencies to write the regulations governing light bulbs, their changing, and proper disposal of the non-functioning light bulb; 1 million enforcement officers to verify everything is being done how the government wants it done; and 40 million taxpayers to support all of the above.
How many Gary Johnsons does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: 6: one of whom is a rugged individualist; one abortionist; one druggie; and three anarchists. Although, given the lack of leadership, it’s questionable whether the light bulb will actually ever get changed.
How many Jill Steins does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: Light bulb? You have a light bulb? No, no, no! That will destroy the planet. We tax your carbon footprint and confiscate your light bulb.
On Death
Way back in 1992 or so, I was his supervisor. I’ll call him “Joe”. Joe came to us from California, and I’m not quite sure how he got to northwest Arkansas. He was an engineer on my staff, designing subdivisions and managing projects. I remember one subdivision he was project manager on. I didn’t have enough staff to go around, in a boom time, so, even though I was his supervisor and department head of 19 people, I assigned myself to design the sewer system for the subdivision. It went well, me being his boss and at the same time an engineer on his crew. He was transferred by us to Los Angeles, to open an office there.
After that I lost track of him, except for a few months when we would be on a certain weekly conference call. I don’t know if he left us of his own volition or was laid off. I never did understand exactly what the work load was in that office, and whether Joe had anyone but himself when it was closed.
Through the miracle of Facebook, we re-connected a couple of years ago. He was still in the LA area, operating his own firm. Quite soon after our reconnection he sold the company. I remembered him being a few years younger than me, so didn’t think he would retire. Sure enough, before long he was in the Dallas area, working for a large architectural/engineering firm. However, soon after that he was in another job, one that required him to travel frequently to the Texas Panhandle—or maybe temporarily relocate there. That job didn’t last long, something about the owner of the company and some funny business, perhaps financial.
We didn’t have a whole lot of interaction on Facebook. I’d like his posts—which were fewer than mine. Once I posted something negative about a presidential candidate, and in comments mentioned how I didn’t like where that candidate stood in their personal life, especially concerning a religious experience. Joe shot back at me, angrily, saying he himself had had a religious conversion since I’d known him. It was a strange post, given that I was talking about a candidate, not the candidate’s supporters. Joe took it personally, as did a couple of others, I might add.
Soon after that Joe was back in northwest Arkansas, working in the engineering department of a local architectural company. He came by the office one day, on the noon hour, to see any of his old acquaintances. I was the only one who was in, or who responded to the receptionists call. Joe and I sat in the lobby and had a nice conversation for a half hour. It was then I learned the facts of his two recent Texas jobs, and how he came to be back in these parts. He said his wife hadn’t moved yet from California, but would be in a few months.
Not too long after that Joe posted on Facebook that his personal computers had been hacked, his webcams hijacked for ransom, his bank account cleaned out, right after he’d had an infusion of cash from somewhere. The bank was going to make good on it, he said, but it was a hassle. It seemed like he was having a string of bad luck.
Before long Joe sent me a Facebook message before working hours one day, saying he wanted to call me. I messaged him my phone number, and before long we were talking. He was no longer at his new job, because, he said, “It’s not an engineering company.” He didn’t come out and say if he’d quit or been fired, and I didn’t ask. He said he had the prospect of getting on with another local, small engineering company, but said he really wanted to come back to us. But, he said, he couldn’t get through to the two people who would be the decision makers. Could I help him.
I told him who the decision maker was in this case, a man he didn’t know, who had come to us after Joe left, which was 21 or so years ago. I said I would talk with my supervisor, who would have a big part in the decision. I said I normally met with him on Friday (we were talking on Monday), and said I rarely saw him at other times during the week unless it was in a meeting with others. I said I’d talk with him and see what the prospects were, but that it would likely be on Friday.
As it turned out, that Friday meeting was cancelled, so it took a week longer to make Joe’s plea for re-employment with us. I didn’t get much encouragement. Having bad news to report, I didn’t immediately pick up the phone. It’s not an easy thing to be the bearer of bad news.
Meanwhile, Joe ended up in a hospital. He posted that his intestines were in a knot. Then, just a few days later, he posted about trouble with his wife, that he had offered to fly her to northwest Arkansas for a visit while she had a week off work. He reported that she replied if they waited till Labor Day they could save some money. In his post Joe said such a reply meant it was over, and that “I love you, Mindy [name changed].” I didn’t know his wife’s name, and assumed that was her.
Two days later a friend of his posted to his timeline, asking if anyone had heard from him in the last couple of days. Another man at our work kept in touch with him, and said Joe wasn’t answering his phone or messages, and that he asked the police to go out and do a wellness check. Later that day he pulled me over and said Joe had committed suicide via gunshot.
Looking back at the chain of events I just described, I can see the downward spiral. The other man at work has told me a few things I didn’t know. It made me feel bad that I hadn’t gotten back to Joe with the bad news. Possibly, knowing that a friend had followed-up on a request, even though that follow-up didn’t result in good news, might have seemed like a bright spot in his difficult life.
Death is coming to all of us, the one certainty of life. We don’t know when it will happen. Many don’t prepare for it, or even if they do, when death comes it comes suddenly. How can we really prepare for it, apart from a solid relationship with our Creator?
Alas, Joe. Sorry if I failed you in some way. I hope you found peace.
Still Restless
Yes, as I wrote two posts ago, I’m restless—still restless now. I’ve had quite a week.
Last Saturday I was able to complete one household project, installing a second under-the-counter light in the pantry. Well, I say “finished,” but it’s not quite. I still need to fasten the wires to the drywall, to keep the curious hands of grandchildren, when they visit next, from pulling on the cords. I was going to do that last night, but, alas, didn’t. Hopefully I’ll get that done tonight, freeing up some time on Saturday to work on…
…the pantry shelf on wheels. I bought the materials last Friday, but haven’t yet gotten to it. In some ways it’s a complicated project, but in other ways it’s kind of simple. Still, I’m not a builder, so I don’t know how well it will all come together.
One other special project for this weekend is to find (in the house), scan, and upload to Facebook some photos of my dad. Monday is the 100th anniversary of his birth, and I’d like to honor his memory in that way. I already have a number of photos of him scanned, but I have a few more I’d like to do. They are in boxes somewhere in the house, or perhaps some in an album. I can find them, and scanning them won’t take too long. I’m not quite sure how to create an album and post it, but need to figure all that out by Monday.
So where does writing fit in with this? Mainly that I’m still waiting on hearing from the influencers I contacted about my writing, and in some cases about their writing. I heard from one, as I said before, and we are exchanging books. He was very positive in our messages so far, so I’m hopeful. That’s a non-commercial project at this point, but who knows where it could lead. I also learned another has been travelling, and just returned home today. My book should be on his desk when he goes into his office, so I’ll wait a little longer. Of the other two (or is it three?), nothing. I’ll wait a while longer for them as well. I don’t think I’ll contact them again. Either the contact I’ve made is good enough, or it’s not.
As to new writing, this week I began work on a professional essay for a class at CEI, which I will later publish in a generic form. I did that at the public library, where I went to escape the heat when the AC in my office wasn’t working. It was fixed about noon yesterday, and then about 1 p.m. today I realized my office was up to about 80 degrees again. I’m thinking of bolting again, going to the library and writing some more on it.
Hopefully this weekend will be productive, and by early next week this restlessness will stop.
Restless
Today I feel restless. I felt that way a little bit yesterday. I’m not sure what to do about it. I feel like I have a lot of loose ends, and am barely closer to seeing them completed than I was three days ago.
Yet, this weekend I got a lot done. Friday evening I completed my stock trading accounting for the week. I also moved some dirt and rock from one of the two piles in the front yard. Saturday I started off by cooking pancakes, bacon, and eggs for breakfast for the ladies and myself. That completed, I went out into the heat to move rocks and dirt. I got the pile from the driveway fully moved, using only my spider and a wheelbarrow. The sun having moved to where the piles were, and the temp creeping up into the upper 80s, I went inside to rest a while. But, being restless, I went back out, this time to the back yard, and pulled weeds from the gravel yard. I did this for close to an hour.
At that point I went back to the front yard, and discovered that the sun had moved such that trees were providing shade to the remaining rock pile, the bigger of the two. I decided I could move some of that, reducing the size and making it possible to finish it in a few evenings this week. However, I kept at it, taking frequent, short rests. I kept saying, “Okay, one more load after this one.” Because my wheelbarrow tire is low on air, I didn’t load a lot of rocks/dirt in it. A few shovels full, perhaps a cubic foot of dirt and rocks, and I wheeled it over to the woods, where I’m stabilizing a path for easier walking.
That “one more load” mentality worked well, and before long (well, maybe 90 minutes later), the entire pile was moved. That has sat there since last September, as I made it when digging out a bush we didn’t want where it was, but since we didn’t know what we wanted to replace it, I left the pile there till we decided. I estimate that I moved somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 pounds of rock and dirt. Now, if we can just decide on how to finish out the proposes flower bed, this project can be brought to completion, as much as it can until we plant flowers next Spring.
After a very light lunch, I went to the basement to finish a shelf installation project I came close to finishing last weekend. I saw that the way I was going to finish it was perhaps not best, and that I could do it a better way. I did that, and even installed a spare fluorescent light in the area, and am calling that project done. I even loaded a few things onto the new shelf.
Back upstairs, I rested a while, until Lynda reminded me that she fairly urgently needed a prescription at Wal-Mart. I had two ready, and my mother-in-law had some as well, so I quickly added a few things to the grocery list and headed out. Fortunately the store was no more crowded than usual, and I was back home after an hour and a half. Bought a pizza there for supper, and so finished my labors of the day with that. The rest of the evening was filled with trying to read the Leonardo da Vinci biography I’m working on, but not really having the mental capacity to do so.
Sunday was restful, with breakfast leftovers, church, fast food lunch, afternoon at the computer, evening church picnic, and again trying to read in the biography, but ending up watching a chick flick on Hallmark Channel. My afternoon work consisted in writing an e-mail to a high school friend I recently reconnected with, getting my household budget up to date, and my usual weekend stock market work. Quite late I packed breakfast and lunches for most of the week. By the end of the weekend, I felt that I had accomplished a great deal.
So why am I feeling so restless? Sunday I received a reply to a Facebook message I sent a month ago, to a pastor-author who has written in a similar area to me. I at first confused this man with another, an educator-author I intended to correspond with, but hadn’t yet. I discovered the confusion this morning as I about sent the wrong message to the wrong person. I wrote messages to both men, and posted them. Also this morning, I commented on the FB post by a second cousin I’ve never met (but know about), and reminded her of something. Also this morning I saw, on my desk at work, a list of my works-in-progress that lay abandoned, waiting on an opportune time for me to get back to them. It’s seven different books, and I’m not sure this is really all of them. This weekend I thought of a good new title to add to the cozy mystery series I’m planning. Also, I had been hoping to do an author interview on my next blog post, but that’s not ready, so I’m doing this instead. These loose ends make me restless.
I keep planning books, yet the time to write seems further away than ever. Sales are non-existent. I’ve decided to give a couple of books away, including one to a former pastor who was in town this weekend for our church festivities. I don’t know when he’s going back, but it would be nice to put it in his hand rather than mailing it. Oh, well, another loose end to live with, and a little more restlessness.
Serenity vs. Tragedy
Once again, yesterday, I was struck at the difference between serenity and tragedy, and how the two coexist simultaneously, right next to each other.
I conducted a final inspection of a construction project yesterday. It was a big project, and we divided it into two mornings. Yesterday was the second. I met folks on the site at 9:00 a.m., though I was there early enough to drive the roads around the project and check them. The day before had been hot, and I was exhausted at the end. Yesterday was cooler, cloudy, with rain threatening. It did in fact sprinkle on us soon after we started. At one point it was more than sprinkling, and we ducked under a covered entrance. The coolness helped us; the rain hindered us. Less than two hours after starting, we had a short punch list of things to correct, and I headed back to the office.
It was pizza day at the office, a replacement for bar-b-que day since our lunch room is closed for renovation. While on site an e-mail had come through to my phone that said the pizza would be there around 11:30. I think it was just before 11 that I parked and walked to the building. Three guys from the office were standing at the door I use, so I said, “I bet you guys are here to intercept the pizza dude and get first dibs!” One man said no, they had come outside to give a certain woman in the office some space (I won’t identify her), that she had screamed loudly, having learned of some significant problem over the phone.
I walked inside. All was dead quiet. We have a relatively quiet workplace, but not like this. I wasn’t sure what was going on, and stayed in my office for a while, waiting till I heard something. I checked the woman’s Facebook feed, and found nothing. A half hour later I was still as much in the dark. Then, on the Facebook feed of the wife of a co-worker came a notice to pray for an unnamed close friend, who had lost a son in tragic circumstances. Could this have been the tragedy? I checked the pages of her adult children (to the extent they were public), and again found nothing.
The pizza was there, so I went to eat. Everyone was talking as you normally would at a lunch provided by the company. Or, perhaps slightly muted compared to normal. I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. The woman wasn’t around, but she often isn’t for these kinds of lunches.
The afternoon rolled on, business as usual for me, and for those I encountered. My work didn’t take me at all by this woman’s desk, and I didn’t know how to ask about what had happened. Finally, the workday over, I headed to my pick-up, and in the parking lot talked with one of our admin assistants who was also leaving. She said that our co-worker had indeed lost her son, unexpectedly in tragic circumstances.
I drove home, stopping for milk and ice cream. We heated leftovers for supper, then I picked blackberries around our circle, finding a new patch not very far from the house. It was my best day yet for picking. After that I went through the mail, did some trading accounting work in The Dungeon until my computer locked up. Then I went back upstairs and read till close to 11:00 p.m. A small but strong thunderstorm knocked out our internet and cable, so all was quiet within the house—serene.
All evening the contrast stayed with me, in a way I hadn’t felt for about three decades. All was serene with me and, in the office, with my co-workers. Except for this one woman, who started the day serenely but ended it having to bury her son. I thought how tomorrow (which is now today) would be the same way. This morning her Facebook page finally confirmed publicly what I’d been told privately.
For most of us the world goes on. Most of our times in America are serene, calm. Business sometimes brings stress, as does the myriad of simple chores required to live. But our worst problems are serenity compared to what she is facing.
Dear God, give her and her family strength through this tragedy. Bring them through the initial grieving to a place of peace, your peace. Help them to say goodbye to their loved one and to carry forward fond memories. Heal their scars from this, and bring them to a place of triumph. And may we, who live lives or relative serenity, be more observant of and helpful to those who don’t.
Very Busy
Sorry to be absent of late. I’ve been very busy with “domestic” items, including watching grandkids for 9 day, dealing with outdoor property stuff, and working on both outdoor and indoor projects. It’s my plan to get back to a more regular blogging schedule. It’s my plan. Will it become a reality? Stay tuned.
Caring
I need to give up caring. It only leads to pain.
Of course, without caring there is no trying.
Without trying there is no living.
Without living there is only dying.
A small part of me died yesterday and today. There’s not much left.