A MODERN DAY CAUTIONARY TALE

A funny thing happened on the way to the internet.  While browsing social media the other day I took a bit of umbrage to an article I read and posted a comment.  That’s when all the trouble began.

I was immediately confronted by several folks who wanted to directly engage me about my comment.  First, they demanded I provide evidence to support my comment; which I found odd because my comment was already supported by the daily news.  Anyone paying attention to the daily news would have immediately been aware of the veracity of my comments.  That really should have been my first clue because that was also when the heckling began; but I’ve never been all that quick on the uptake.

Once I provided the evidence, along with the direct web links to it, I was accused of making stuff up.  I began to feel like I was Alice in Wonderland trying to talk to the Mad Hatter; nothing about the discussion was making sense as I normally experience it.  The harassment continued until I just stopped engaging.  Of course the harassers had to have the last word and gleefully told me off with their last post; no doubt feeling vindicated that their positions were correct and their engagement strategies were justified because I was merely an ignorant loser.  Of course, they may be right about that after all.

I would have chalked it up to a random encounter on a particular social media site but a few days later I had a similar experience.  Ever the glutton for punishment I perused another social media site and once again encountered a post I found objectionable.  Never the one to learn an easy lesson, I made a comment.  Again, I was faced with those who wanted to engage me about my comment.  The substance of the discussion, like the previous one, was not as significant as the structure.

My antagonist responded in ways that were so far removed from my comment, or at the very least, the intent of my comment, that I felt the need to more fully engage; if only to clarify what I was saying.  All attempts to clarify my comments merely fueled the fire of the ire coming my way as the antagonist clung to his original interpretation of what I was saying and accused me of changing my position.  Upon realizing I was not involved in a reasonable discussion or a healthy exchange of ideas, I once again attempted to disengage and remove myself from the discussion.  As before, the antagonist claimed the open ground I had vacated to bring down the cudgel of the last word; hurling ad hominem attacks my way, saying I should be ashamed for thinking the thoughts I expressed and accusing me of being deceptive in my comments.

As I crawl into my dark little corner to lick my wounds and sulk all alone in silence for a while, I struggle to make sense of all this.  One could argue that the common denominator in each of these encounters is me; perhaps that is the case.  There is no question that I took a contrarian view to the posts on which I commented; so one could easily say I asked for it.  But that does not explain the ferocity of those who chose to engage me, nor does it explain the bizarre responses I received from those antagonists that left me more than a little baffled. My existential experience of these different encounters was so very similar that I cannot accept full responsibility.

Nevertheless, I offer these little tidbits mostly as a reminder to myself that much of the available interaction on social media is an exercise in vanity and to engage with it is futile.  I am also reminded of an ancient Proverb that says it most succinctly:  “Do you see a man who speaks in haste?  There is more hope for a fool than for him”.

So let these things be a warning.  If you have any opinions about anything, you would do well to keep them to yourself; or at the very least, keep them off of social media.  Because, after all, they are just, like, your opinion, man.

Mom

I was born decades before sonogram technology developed so the gender of an unborn child could be known. Before I was born, my Mom was so certain I would be a girl she didn’t even consider a boy’s name for me. Needless to say I was a disappointment and instead of Kimberly, I was dubbed Kim. I always say they cut off the most masculine part of my name; the burly part.

Before she passed, my Mom put everyone on notice that she didn’t want any crying fools at her funeral. I struggled through my tears to deliver a eulogy to her at the graveside. So at the beginning of my life, and at the end of hers, I was a big disappointment to my Mom.

I write these things not so much for her but about her and for the benefit of those who have no idea what I was blathering about at my Mom’s graveside. I also write to memorialize that ominous milestone of life where one is left to face the world without the benefit of parental support.

During her lifetime she was known by many different names. She came into this world as Virginia Lee Miller. Before I was born and for three years after my birth father died she was known as Virginia Lee Campbell. After that she was known as Virginia Lee Krepps. To her grandkids and great grandkids she was Gma, or GG, or various other terms of endearment specific to the kid in question. I am her third child. To me she was always “Mom”.

We were aware her passing had been coming for quite some time but I don’t think anyone is really prepared for something like that. It’s one of the milestones of life that no one looks forward to.

When the people who brought you into this world leave it, they take part of you with them. But it’s also true that they leave so much more behind. That is certainly true of Mom.

91 plus years is a very long time to live by any standard of measure. Yet looking back it seems like just a wisp. During that time Mom managed to spawn two families, the Campbell’s and the Krepps’s. And she spent her life molding those two families into one. She leaves behind 7 kids, 28 grandkids, and 34 great grandkids.

Her life is a legacy of love and family. Her family was her life and she invested all of her love into those in the family as well as many more outside of it. She was a very generous and giving person.

I never fully comprehended just how much Mom was invested in her family until the last week of her life. During that week her legacy of love came into full bloom as one family member after another hovered around her like guardian angels ministering to her with forms of love and affection like I’ve never seen before and she began to reap some of the rewards of her investment.

I was only able to spend a few days in that effort, and she lingered a full week after I had to leave. But the rest of the family maintained the vigil until she finally passed. It was the most beautiful display of family affection I have ever witnessed.

There is not really a lot I can say about Mom that most folks don’t already know. Her life was pretty much an open book and she had few secrets. All you would have needed to do to see the impact of her life was to look around the church sanctuary at her memorial service. Everyone there and others have their own special memories of her.

What I Would like to say is what I think she would say if she could. To all those who took time away from their lives to come to her memorial service, thank you. To all those who helped to make her final days some of the most rewarding and enjoyable days of her life, I love you for that.

The Epistemological Problem

After confronting the Big Lebowski about his rug and then absconding with a replacement from the millionaire’s house, the Dude was called by Brandt for a consultation about the kidnapping of the Big L’s wife Bunny and to enlist the services of the Dude.  Within the context of this consultation the Dude posed this question to Brandt, “You think the carpet pissers did this?”  To which Brandt replied, “Well Dude, we just don’t know!”

The Dude found himself faced with a problem of epistemology not unlike that faced by many in this country; a problem that is clearly exacerbated by the war of words being waged, or perhaps more accurately “raged”, by the American news media.  With something as sacred as the first amendment at stake, the idealist would expect to find a bit more objective reporting and substantially less exaggeration of the facts.  But we don’t live in an ideal world and the reality is that the news media is far less interested in truth than in making embellished headlines that capture the attention of readers by fanning the flames of whatever controversy may be currently in vogue.

If one were to look back over the last several decades, say since the time of President John F. Kennedy, who was also a journalist, it would be easy to conclude there has been a gradual, albeit radical, shift in how news is reported in this country as journalism has followed a progressive slippery slope away from objective journalistic style toward a more tabloid form of news.  I think that is an accurate description of the current state of news reporting in this country.  For example, if the news media had acted in the time of Kennedy like they do today, his many dalliances would have been exposed long before he passed into history as one of the few American Presidents who was assassinated.

However, if you look back just a little further in American history, say to the latter part of the 19th century, you might be surprised to find that the nature of news reporting was not much different from what we see today.

Several years ago I became enamored of the Legendary Wyatt Earp and did some extensive reading on his life and times.  To say he was a controversial historical character is a bit of an understatement.  To say that he, or at least his legend, inspired a cottage industry would be completely accurate.  Multitudes of books, movies, and television shows have attempted to portray the romanticized images of the Old West and the American gunslinger that were spawned by his legend.  John Wayne once revealed that he had personally met Wyatt Earp and that he copied the verbal styles and the body language of Wyatt Earp in his portrayal of the characters he played in western movies.

However, many of the books written about Wyatt Earp present competing and conflicting views of him and his legend that have existed since before the time of the O.K. Corral.  Some attempt to portray him as an honorable and selfless law enforcement officer who fearlessly faced down the criminal elements of his time.  Others present him from the perspective of the Clanton family and the Cowboys that Wyatt Earp so famously tracked down and murdered in a vendetta that was retaliation for what they did to his brothers, Virgil and Morgan.  If you are interested in a more balanced treatment of the myths and legends surrounding Wyatt Earp, I highly recommend the book by Casey Tefertiller, “Wyatt Earp:  The Life Behind the Legend”, John Wiley & Sons, 1997.

Another author who sheds some light on the life and times of Wyatt Earp is Jeff Guinn who wrote, “The Last Gunfight:  The Real Story of the Shootout at the O.K. Corral – And How it Changed the American West”, Simon & Schuster, 2011.  I am always suspect of an author, writing more than 100 years after the facts of an event, who claims to have “the real story”.  Guinn does attempt to argue that his book is based on new evidence that was discovered subsequent to the publication of Tefertiller’s work (see Note on Sources in Guinn, page 322ff).

However, an objective reader might conclude about Guinn’s work that it is essentially a rehash of the disputed facts regarding the events of the O.K. Corral and offers little that is new to those arguments.  What Guinn does provide is some insight into the socio-political dynamics of the times.  He characterizes those dynamics as a continuation of the conflicts between the South, who were predominantly Democrat and the North that was mostly Republican.

The reader has to keep in mind that the events of the O.K. Corral took place within a decade or so of the end of the Civil War and the socio-political tensions associated with that national conflict did not end with the war.  Guinn writes that the Democrats came west to escape the dominance of the North only to find that the Republicans were already setting and enforcing the laws in the western territories.  So there was an innate rivalry between the cowboys, miners, and law men that was fueled by basic values.  The Clanton’s, the cowboys, and Sheriff Johnny Behan were all Democrats, whereas the Earp’s, their associates, and financial backers, were Republicans.

What Tefertiller highlights in his historical treatment of the legend is the role and influence of the newspapers (e.g., the news media sources) on the conflicts that arose in Tombstone at the time that culminated in the shootout at the O.K. Corral.  Here is an excerpt from Tefertiller’s book that illustrates the point:  “Frontier journalism was rife with political partisanship; reporting and analysis were often highly biased.  Newspapers had a great impact on the beliefs of the frontier populace.  They were both a lifeline to the outside world and a barometer of public opinion.  Editorials influenced how the citizenry would view major issues.  Just about everyone who could read scanned a newspaper, and the literacy rate on the frontier was probably higher than it is more than a century later” (page 81).

Tefertiller goes on to explain that the local newspaper called the “Nugget”, which was tacitly Democrat, and its competitor, the “Epitaph”, each had a unique approach to how they presented the news.  Tombstone was primarily a mining town that depended heavily on big outside investors from around the country.  These investors were not eager to read about the antics of the cowboys that might be putting their capital in jeopardy.  On the other hand, the cowboys posed a real threat to the community due to their various criminal activities.

In their news reports, the Nugget”, in order to avoid discouraging future investments in Tombstone, downplayed the antics of the cowboys and made them seem like playful rogues instead of true desperadoes.  The more Republican, law-and-order loving, “Epitaph”, on the other hand, sensationalized the cowboy depredations, calling for strict law enforcement to make the district safe in order to lure greater investment.  These socio-political differences between the competing news organizations played a distinct role in how the legend of Wyatt Earp was shaped and whether he was viewed as famous or infamous.

Nowhere is this more evident than in the news reports about the events of the O.K. Corral and the subsequent legal proceedings that followed that shootout.  The “Nugget” presented those events from the perspective of Ike Clanton and the “Epitaph” presented it from the perspective of the Earp’s.  The court of public opinion was divided and the ultimate result was a hung jury that left the questions of Wyatt Earp’s character unresolved.

The disputes about the character of Wyatt Earp plagued him all his life and he spent the last half of it attempting to counter and overcome the character assassinations he had endured through the various media sources as a result of the Tombstone events.  In his later years, he worked with various authors attempting to get his story out for public consumption and to ensure his legacy represented his version of those events.

This all presents some fascinating parallels and similarities to what we see in the news media today.  The legend of Donald Trump (even if it is only in his own mind) preceded his ascent to the presidency.  He was famous long before he became President of the United States.  During the campaigns the media could not give him enough publicity.  He said and did unorthodox things and every day in the news, it was all about Trump or what he was saying about the other candidates.  The media gave him so much bad press they were shocked to their cores in disbelief when he won the election.  Since he took office the daily news is still all about Trump, but it has a qualitatively different character; it is mean-spirited, aggressive, and pejorative in nature.

Trump showed the news media disrespect; he called them out.  He even accused them of putting out fake news.  The result has been a daily onslaught against his character, his campaign, his presidency, and those associated with him.  The news daily reports that “sources”, albeit never named, and always close to either the administration, or the investigation, have disclosed information to the news media suggesting that Trump and/or his associates are or have been engaged in nefarious activities.  Yet no one, except those actually directly involved in any such conversations, could have any knowledge of what is being reported.  In essence the media is engaged in speculative news reporting based on questionable sources, all in retaliation for being used and abused by the Donald.

By now it should be clear to the reader that the myth of objective journalism has existed at least as far back as the O.K. Corral.  And that is the fundamental epistemological problem.  Even in an era that, arguably, was more literate than today, the citizenry relied on the news organizations to inform them about the important issues of the day and allowed the news they were consuming to shape their individual beliefs about the world and to guide their actions.

In this day and age we find amusement in the various man-on-the-street interviews perpetrated by comedians where they poll random citizens about their views on current events and/or other political subjects.  We get a good chuckle about the ignorance displayed in these random interviews where the interviewees agree with certain statements as long as they think they are the views of their chosen candidate and then are shocked to learn that what they truly believe is actually the view of the candidate they oppose.

The epistemological problem is that we really don’t know what we think we know.  If the American public were honest and sincere, like the Dude, they would be asking the simple and direct question, “You think the Russians did this?”  And if the American media were honest they would respond like Brandt, “Well, we just don’t know”.  And that is the problem.

Theological Ruminations of a Third Kind

It’s been quite some time since I have been here.  Although I still find inspiration from the Dude, over the last few years that level of inspiration has been reduced to sharing one liners from the Big Lebowski on Facebook.  Don’t get me wrong, there are hours of enjoyment to find in that enterprise, zesty as it is.  But I just have not found the level of inspiration that motivates one to spend time in lengthy discussions about those things that often perplex us in this life.  After all, the name of this blog is Shallow Thoughts, so that should give you some idea about how I might identify with the Dude.  As the stranger said, “and even if he is a lazy man, and the Dude was certainly that–quite possibly the laziest in Los Angeles County…which would place him high in the runnin’ for laziest worldwide–but sometimes there’s a man…sometimes there’s a man.  Wal, I lost m’train of thought here”, but I think you know what I mean.

But recently I have been inspired to reflect on certain things and that inspiration has come from, of all places, some things I read on Facebook from those of the Reformed Faith; specifically the notion of limited atonement espoused by Calvin.  If there is anything to be said for the proponents of Reformed Theology it is that they know their Bibles and they are ready on a moment’s notice to share any and all proof texts that support this theological construct.  They are so deep into the weeds of Biblical interpretation, and so staunchly committed to this construct that, should you begin to ask legitimate questions about their views, you may quickly find yourself branded as a heretic; believe me that is not an edifying experience.

Nevertheless, I find myself compelled to ask such questions.  I’m like the central character to the Mason Williams Song titled, “The Prince and His Panties”.  If you’ve heard the song, you know that this character liked certain things that most other people like, but he liked them for different reasons.  He liked butter, but mostly for its color, so he would order toast and color, waitresses confused would utter, sir we don’t have toast and color, he’d get angry and begin to choke them, the law would come and then arrest and book him, so his life was just a mess of trouble, but still he kept it up.  But I digress. The point is that those of the Reformed faith have elevated certain ideas that amount to a conceptual overlay known as Reformed theology to a level equivalent to the Gospel itself.  All of this just causes a ransack in my mind as it twists the logic of my brain in ways reminiscent of the Dude when he said to Maude, “This is a complicated case, lotta ins, lotta outs, lotta what have yous…too many strands for the old Duders head”.  But again, I digress.

Returning to my theme, and by way of explaining the title of this piece, I am compelled to ruminate on theological constructs and thereby attempt to bring some order to the chaos raging in my mind by writing down these thoughts.  You may or may not find them interesting, and you may or may not brand me a heretic.  But I think I am like most people who come to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ long before we hear the terms limited atonement and other concepts that are not mentioned in the Bible but emanate from the musings of the classic theologians.  So I fail to see how that construct, or other man-made constructs contributes anything to a person’s relationship with God.  To be clear, I am using the noun form of the word “construct” to convey the idea that all theological systems represent nothing more than a theory developed to explain the known facts.  The various theological systems were constructed by well meaning people to attempt to explain the events recorded in the 66 books of the Bible that were written over hundreds and thousands of years.  But none of these theological systems can make any claim to Divine Inspiration in the same way as the Scriptures themselves.

In my own life, I was in a very dark place before I reached the point of saving faith.  I had been reading the Bible and found that those wonderful words about Jesus, and in particular the words spoken by Jesus, were pulling on my heart strings to the point that I really wanted to believe what I was reading.  I would even talk to God about that.  I had been around Christians, I had even walked the aisle in a Baptist church and been baptized.  But I had never seen anything in any Christian remotely similar to the type of loving kindness reflected in the words of the New Testament.  I told God this and told Him that if I could just see something like that I could believe.  Like I said, I was in a very dark place at that point in my life; it was a place of humiliation, shame and self-loathing.  But shortly after that conversation with God, He brought someone across my path that opened my eyes to the reality of God Himself.  This man never said more than a few words to me, I only saw him that one time, and nothing he said had anything to do with the Bible.  He just looked at me.  And in his eyes I saw the love of Christ; a love that pierced the veil of my outward appearance, saw me for who I really was, and extended a sense of unconditional acceptance; it was mercy that I found in that man’s eyes.  So it was not an intellectual argument that won me to Christ, it was an existential experience of a third kind (to borrow a phrase and it’s meaning from the movie, “Close Encounters of the Third Kind).

I think most people who become Christians do so because of the love of God that they experience in their own lives long before their faith becomes confounded by the man made constructs found in systematic theology.  Limited atonement is one of those constructs.  This is the notion that the sacrifice of Jesus when he gave Himself on the cross is only effective for those who have been labeled “the elect”.  All of this is also tied to the Reformed concept of monergism.  Again, this is another term not found in the Bible.  It is a man made term to explain the actual process of salvation.  If you are interested in any of that just google it.  I don’t want to get too deep in the weeds of all that.  What I do want to do is contrast that notion with the Biblical patterns that illustrate how God has progressively revealed Himself to mankind over the course of time.

The logic of limited atonement is antithetical to those Biblical patterns.  It is a reductive logic in that it reduces the work of Christ and subsumes it under rubric of “the elect”.  As the notion goes, in God’s foreknowledge, He determined before the foundation of the world who would be saved and he causes those He has chosen to be “born again” as mentioned in John Chapter 3, in order to be able to hear His voice and become followers of Him.  I won’t deny that there is a multitude of proof texts that can be brought to bear to support this theory.  But there is something about the logic of the theory that just does not ring true.

When you compare that to the logic of the Biblical patterns in which God makes Himself known to His creation, the reductive logic of limited atonement begins to break down.  The pattern is close because throughout Scripture, beginning with Adam, God chose certain individuals to receive a special form of revelation and He worked through those individuals to fulfill His will in the world.  But the logic of the Biblical pattern is expansive, not reductive.  When God revealed Himself to Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, He made a specific promise, both to bless him, to make him a blessing, and to bless all the people of the earth through him.  The Old Testament is organized around this theme as God caused the nation of Israel to flourish as long as they remained true to God.  At that time in Biblical history God was blessing and revealing Himself to the genetic descendants of Abraham.  In the New Testament we see a similar pattern of revelation as Jesus revealed Himself to God’s chosen people, the Jews, who rejected and killed Him.  This was all foretold in Old Testament Scriptures about the Messiah that would come.  And over the course of time God began to fulfill His promise to Abraham by revealing Himself to all of those who are of the same faith as Abraham; not those who believe in Judaism, but to those who have the same quality of faith as Abraham, about which it has been said, “Abraham believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness” (Gen, 15:6).

The gospel that was preached by Paul and all the other apostles is codified in 1 Corinthians 15 where Paul writes, “For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance:  that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve.  After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep.  Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, and last of all he appeared to me also, as to one abnormally born” (vs. 3-8).  The “gospel” preached in the New Testament, the one that Jesus Himself commissioned, was a proclamation of His life, death, and resurrection, and how all of that was foretold in the Scriptures. And the pattern of God’s progressive revelation continued through the book of ACTS where this gospel was preached first to the Jews and then to the Gentiles all over the world.  It continued in a ever progressive pattern as Jesus commanded His disciples to go into the world and make disciples of all nations.

This gospel did not consist of any of the theological constructs found in the systematic theologies of today.  It was simple, pure and pristine.  I posed a question to the Reformed individuals who were posting on Facebook and I asked, can someone reject limited atonement and still be a Christian based solely on faith in the finished work of Christ.  I only got one response to that question, and the responder was dumbfounded, thinking it had no bearing on the discussion of limited atonement.  I pointed out that it had direct bearing on a discussion in which limited atonement has been put forward as the gospel. I then quoted the actual gospel from 1 Corinthians 15 asserting that this is the gospel preached by Paul and all of the other apostles, further asserting that this is the threshold and foundation of the Christian faith.  Anything conceptualized beyond this in a systematic theology is an additional construct overlaid on the gospel.  Since then no one has replied to engage to either support or dispute my assertions.  It is very possible that they have brushed the dirt off their sandals toward me.

But the point I am making about Reformed Theology is applicable to all other systematic theologies as well.  They are man made constructs that seek to organize the Biblical information in ways that are intended to explain the Biblical narrative.  The foremost example of what I am talking about in systematic theology has to do with the subject of eschatology, or future things.  The disciples posed this question to Jesus, “what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” (Matt. 24:3).  Although Jesus provided several examples of signs, He made very clear that “No one knows that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Matt. 24:36).  Not even Jesus knew when He would return, but that has not stopped theologians from speculating about that and developing extravagant theological constructs to attempt to predict it.

Is there an overarching point being made here?  Aside from the recurring point about systematic theology, if there is a point it is most likely reflected in the Book of Revelation, Chapter 2, To the angel of the church in Ephesus write:  …I know your deeds, your hard work and your perseverance.  I know that you cannot tolerate wicked men, that you have tested those who claim to be apostles, but are not, and have found them false…Yet I hold this against you:  You have forsaken your first love” (vs. 1-4).  Systematic theology can serve a useful purpose in establishing the rudiments and parameters of Biblical faith and, thereby providing a structural construct designed to assess Biblical truth.  But the dangers inherent in systematic theologies is that the proponents tend to become more enamored with the construct than with the Person revealed in Scripture.  Jesus makes this very point in John 5:39 where He says to the Jews, “You diligently study the Scriptures because you think that by them you possess eternal life.  These are the Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life”.

The Jesus of the New Testament was not concerned with systematic theology or with attempts to explain all the mysteries that God has chosen in His wisdom to leave unrevealed.  Jesus did not spend His time on earth explaining the intricate workings and mechanisms of the salvation experience or who it might apply to.  His sole focus was to reveal Himself to those who have ears to hear.  He cast a wide net, He spread a multitude of seeds, and the vision of Jesus we get from John is that He is a God of love and compassion more than willing to embrace anyone who will accept His love.  This is an expansive view of atonement, not a limited one.

2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 540 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 9 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

My Special Lady Friend

As we all know there are usually at least two sides to every story. In “She’s The One” I recalled the first time I met my wife Nora. At the prompting of a good friend, Nora has written down her side of the story and it seems appropriate to have both versions together in one place. So here is my wife’s version of “She’s The One”.

Per Margaret Morris’ request – my view how it all went down: I too remember how we first met; as Kim said we met on a Sunday at a singles group Sunday morning bible study. I had been asked to be a greeter that Sunday. I remember as if it was yesterday – Kim walked in with his “date”. I went to greet them both and all I saw was Kim’s beautiful blue eyes. I remember introducing myself, but that was all I could remember of our first meeting – those blue eyes. Kim came to the bible studies 3 or 4 more times. Each time he came I remember him staring at me throughout the meetings. It made me very nervous – so each time he came, immediately after the bible study was over I would high tail it out of there before he could approach me. Kim stopped coming after awhile.

I was still living at home, working part time to pay my way through school. One afternoon while home I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to answer it , and as I opened the door I could see that it was the UPS guy with a package. When we looked at each other there were those beautiful blue eyes again. As Kim remembers in his version, I said “I know you” (I didn’t remember his name, but I knew him from somewhere). But he remembered. He said his name and told me where we had met. I was impressed that he remembered me – it had been, as I recall, almost a year since I first met him.

After that day, almost every time I was out working in the yard (I promised my brother I would keep my Mom’s yard up when he left to go to school in Costa Rica) Kim would stop by in his big ‘ol UPS truck. We would talk for a little bit, then he would continue on his route. One day he stopped by to chat, but this time he asked me out – finally!

Our first date, Kim took me to a really nice French Restaurant at the Anatole here in Dallas. After dinner we walked around the hotel lobby, stopped to look over the balcony, down into the Atrium, we’re talking about different things, school, our families, etc……and Kim just comes out and says something like, “I’m ready to settle down”. That kind of scared me. I’m thinking, this is our first date , I don’t even know this guy. I think I quickly said something like “not me, I want to finish school. At the end of that evening when Kim dropped me off – he walked me to the door – he asked me if he could kiss me, but I told him no. I didn’t want him to get the impression that I was ready to settle down. I think I made him wait for three months before our first kiss. After that kiss, as I recall, he kept asking me to marry him. Again, I made him wait – LOL! I think he asked me about 27 times before I finally said yes. I am so glad he waited all that time for the kiss and the proposal acceptance. I can’t imagine being married to anyone else. I can’t imagine not being able to see those beautiful blue eyes everyday of my life. I can’t imagine not being married to my best friend.

We spent a lot of time, while we were dating talking to each other about our likes and dislikes, things that were important to us, what we wanted in a marriage, our faith, we talked about everything. For me, getting to know everything about Kim and gaining a best friend were the things that helped me to know that I was ready to settle down with this wonderful person I had grown to love.

On a side note, just before Kim and I met, for the second time, I had been praying that the Lord would bring a friend into my life. Most of the acquaintances/friends I knew from church lived way across town. I didn’t get to see them very often, mostly just on Sundays, because of my schedule and living so far from them. I wasn’t specifically asking for a boyfriend, just someone I could hang out with, and really be friends with. The Lord answered my prayer a hundred times over by bringing Kim into my life. And with beautiful blue eyes to boot!

What If? Random Musings on Existential Realities

If there is one thing the Dude is well known for, aside from the fact the he abides, it is his penchant for a Jay, a Thai-stick. It’s just one of the traits that makes him the quintessential man of the 60’s, albeit acting out in the 90’s. Yes, the Dude definitely enjoyed his Doobies, and I’m not talking here about the brothers, either the band by said name nor the Cohen brothers, who conceived of the Dude in the first place. I’m talking about Mary Jane, and all those other groovy slang terms for marijuana that were birthed in the 60’s counter-culture. Let’s face it, the Dude was a pothead, tried and true; like so many others from that generation now referred to as Baby Boomers.

We were the direct offspring of those who occupied the world stage during the 40’s that were most accurately described as The Greatest Generation. They are the ones whose personal values saved the world from the axis of evil during WWII and then came home to rebuild this nation into the most prosperous country in the world for decades to come. The Baby Boomers rebelled against those values and radically changed the culture of America in ways that are still being seen today; and changed it even more so as the Baby Boom generation began to rise to positions of political power. Bill Clinton was the very first Baby Boom President, and we were all witnesses to the things that he valued.

Bill Clinton was only a faint shadow of the Dude, however, because, although he also enjoyed a good toke on a Doobie, he never inhaled. Quite different from our current Generation X President, Barak Obama, who very candidly declared inhaling was the whole point of doing the Doobie.

Generation X is, like President Obama, the offspring of the Baby Boomers and in the brief six years that President Obama has been in power this country has seen change at an unprecedented rate. Of course, that is exactly what candidate Barak Obama promised us when he was running for office, so no one should be surprised. However, for most of us, the current rate of cultural change is just a bit unsettling, as we see the cultural values we have known for so long appear to be crumbling over night. In fact, even though throughout the 60’s and right up to the last couple of years, marijuana was illegal in this country, the fact is, it is still on the current list of illegal controlled substances and against Federal and State laws in most parts of the country. Nevertheless, it will no doubt become legalized and begin to be regulated and, consequently, taxed within the next few years just as it has in Colorado and the State of Washington.

This actually represents a very interesting paradox inasmuch as the Baby Boom generation, that championed and celebrated the drug induced life style, all seemed to depart from those things at about the same time; certainly, at least, within the same decade. It was like a whole generation of people, in fact the biggest generation ever to be known up to that time, all grew up at once and began giving birth to Generation X, who in turn gave birth to the Millennials. It should be noted that those who study these type of demographics tell us that there are approximately 70 some odd million Baby Boomers, approximately 30 some odd million members of Generation X, and just over 80 million Millennials in the market place, all competing for the same jobs. This raises the obvious question about how it is that 70 million Baby Boomers only produced 30 million offspring, whereas those 30 million Generation X members gave birth to an even larger cohort group than the Baby Boomers? How do we account for the diminished number of progeny coming from the largest generation ever to exist until the 1980’s; especially from that generation that preached and pursued free love? I don’t have the answer to that question, I am merely making the observation that no one else is.

Of course it has to be acknowledged that not every member of the Baby Boom generation was a pothead, stoner, acid freak. There were literally thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, among us that never ventured into the experimentation of the counter culture. But most likely everyone of us has known someone like the Dude, which is why his character resonates in such a kindred sort of way. It is that resonance that gives full meaning to the phrase, “The Dude Abides”.

But one has to wonder what the world would be like today if the Baby Boom generation had never ventured en masse into drug experimentation. I spent about ten years working as a psychotherapist helping people with various psychological and emotional problems. During that time I began to observe that those whose personal histories included involvement with drugs appeared to be fixated at a particular mental and emotional stage that was marked by the time preceding their involvement with drugs. Yes, I’m talking here about arrested development; a very well known concept that fully predates the comedy show. Only there is nothing really funny about the realities associated with the concept.

Most of these folks had been arrested in their personal development for several years and were unhappy, disillusioned, feeling very much out of place and unfulfilled in their lives. One can’t help but wonder what their lives could have been and how much more they might have accomplished had they never become involved in the drug culture. And by extension, one also has to wonder what this nation might be like if the Baby Boomers had never rebelled against the values of The Greatest Generation and gone running after the Jimi Hendrix world of experience.

I guess this is something we will never know because the pages of history have been written and we are only left with the reality of what is now, the product of what has gone before. For some it is a most exciting time that spells hope for their vision of the future. For others, it is an unsettling time as they see the values they hold most dear trampled on and ridiculed almost daily. For the latter group, it may be their only hope for peace of mind to adopt the Dude’s attitude and just go bowling.

She’s The One

I remember the first time I saw her; it was on a Sunday.  I was born on a Sunday and meeting her for the first time was a bit like being born again.  I had gone to a young adult service at Church and it was my first time there.  I had been invited there by another young woman in whom I was very much interested at the time; in retrospect, more like, with whom I was infatuated.  As we entered the room my companion went off to another area and left me to fend for myself so I went looking for the coffee and donuts.  That’s where I saw her for the very first time.  She looked me straight in the eye, reached out her hand to shake mine, and said, “Hello, my name is Nora”. 

For me it was a most surreal moment; one like you see in the movies where everything in the periphery of your vision  just instantly fades away and all you can see clearly is directly in front of you.  It was a moment that lasted only a few seconds as I shook her hand, told her my name, and then turned to make my coffee; but it was one of those life-changing moments that you never forget.

The significance of that moment cannot be overstated.  As I said, I was there with another young woman in whom I was very interested.  If there is one thing that is true about me, I have always been very single-minded in  my attractions to the opposite sex; I tended to be focused on only one person at a time and remained so until they made it clear that the relationship was not going anywhere.  But after meeting Nora for the first time I found myself unable to think about anyone else; even that young woman who invited me to the church group that day.  There is no doubt that this had all the dynamics of just another infatuation; but, to me, it felt like something very different.

Each time I attended that young adult service after that  I would look for Nora.  I didn’t have the courage to just go up and talk to her, but I would admire her from a distance.  I recall at one point thinking, “I probably don’t have a chance, her father is probably a Doctor or some other  professional person who would be sorely unimpressed with my lowly accomplishments in life”.  But there were a few times, one in particular that I recall, where I had a small glimmer of hope. 

This young adult service was quite large, well over 100 in attendance, and was organized around circular tables that would accommodate about a dozen or so individuals.  The purpose was to allow for small group discussions following the message that was delivered by the leadership.  On at least one occasion, Nora came to the table where I was seated and sat directly across from me.  It was all I could do to remain focused on the discussion; I couldn’t take my eyes off her; she was gorgeous.

But some time shortly after that I became disenchanted with that church group and stopped going.  I didn’t see Nora after that; but after all, we really didn’t know each other beyond those few brief encounters, and I resigned myself to the idea that I would never see her again.  A period of time passed, my infatuation with that other young woman faded, and I was working full-time for United Parcel Service (UPS) as a delivery driver; it was the spring or summer of 1978.  One day, I tried to deliver a package to an address on my route but no one answered the door.  The standing practice at UPS under such circumstances was to attempt the delivery to a neighbor.  So I went next door and rang the bell.  Nora answered the door.

Immediately she said, “Hey, don’t I know you?”.  I could hardly believe my eyes as I responded in almost knee-jerk fashion, “Yes, your name is Nora, my name is Kim, and we met at church, at the young adult service”.  About that time, a whole bunch of heads started popping up behind her, curious about the conversation.  Taken aback, I said, “How many people do you have in there, anyway?”.  That’s when I learned that she has quite a large nuclear family; 12 brothers and sisters in all.   But this was just another one of those brief encounters because, working for UPS, I was on a very tight timeline and had to move along.

That summer, I would drive by her house on a regular basis; no I was not stalking her, like I said above, she lived on my delivery route.  But I have to confess that I would often drive down her street even if I had no deliveries for that street.  Occasionally I would see her working out in the yard and would stop for a moment or two to say hello.  One day I had more than a couple of moments, and I had finally worked up a wee bit of courage.  She was up on her porch as I approached.  I said, “You know, I don’t think I know your last name”.  She said, “It’s Molina”.  I said, “Is that Italian or something?”.  She said, “It’s Hispanic”.  I said, “Would it be okay if I called you sometime?”.  She said, “Yes”.

On our first date I took her to dinner to a French Restaurant at a brand new hotel in the area; the Anatole.  I don’t really recall much about the dinner; although the waiter was classically rude.  All I really recall is how beautiful she looked; I was enchanted.  After dinner we walked around the hotel which had an open atrium design.  We were on the second level looking down on the lobby area just having casual conversation.  I don’t remember how it came up, but I do recall telling her that I was not interested in a casual relationship and I was ready to settle down.  Surprisingly, although she remained non-committal, this didn’t scare her away and we continued to date throughout that summer.

We often had long talks sitting on her porch in the evenings, just holding hands.  The more she talked about those things she valued, the more I felt drawn toward her.  I had never felt so comfortable with another person.  But there were some things about myself, things I had done in my past, things which I’m not very proud of, that I had never disclosed to her and I wasn’t sure how she would react once she learned those things about me.  One day I decided I needed to find out for sure, and that I owed it to her to be forthcoming; so we had that conversation.  She listened quietly and carefully and then she said, “Well, you’re not doing those things now are you?”.  It was at that moment that I knew, she was the one.

As I write this, it’s been just about 36 years since that first fateful moment when I met her at the young adult Church group.  Three kids and five grandkids later, I still feel enchanted; not in that same way as at the beginning, but in a way that is much deeper.  I’ve had nearly four decades to closely observe the embodiment of those values she expressed to me on her front porch in those evenings when we were dating.  It is those things that I found most beautiful about her.  It is those things that helped me to know that she’s the one.

Luz Maria Molina: A Tribute

I was in the room the day she died; it was a surreal event.  She was my wife’s mother and in Spanish her first name means “light”.  The day she passed was very much like a light going out in this world.  Yet at the same time, it was as though her light was transferred to all of those present in the room.  It was a small hospital room, but it was filled wall to wall with those who loved her and those she had loved during her time on this earth.  They were like angels gathered around to watch the events of humankind unfold.  Everyone knew this day was coming, so it was no surprise.  Nevertheless, it was no less difficult.

She was born in Mexico and migrated with her family to the United States like so many before her and so many since then.  She was a hard working devout Catholic who raised thirteen (13) children that were equally devoted to her.  Her sister married her husband’s brother and they had five (5) kids so there were double cousins on both sides of the family; as well as a very large extended family beyond the two sisters, their husbands and their children.  Casual family gatherings could easily exceed 75 or more people, and often were much larger than that during the holiday seasons.  Notwithstanding normal family squabbles, everyone was very close and very loving toward one another.  By the time I came into the picture, her husband had already passed and she had been managing the family all by herself for a number of years.  But I never heard her complain and no burden of her responsibilities ever seemed too heavy for her; even after she became ill.

Luz Maria always took care to make me feel welcome and included in the family.  Although my wife tells me she did that for everyone, that knowledge made her kindness and efforts no less meaningful to me.  But it does illustrate why so many folks, even those who were not among her immediate family, loved and respected her so very much.

As we all stood there, gathered around her hospital bed, she was in a sleep like state and her breathing was labored.  Periodically the nurses would come and check on her.  At one point, the nurse indicated the end was close.  Shortly after that I recall, or at least that is the way I remember it, Luz opened her eyes and looked around the room; almost as though to say goodbye, but she spoke not a word.  Then she closed her eyes once more and her breathing began to slow until it finally stopped.  There was a quiet peacefulness in the room accompanied by what seemed to be a collective sigh as we all witnessed her life force leave her body.

She left this world much in the same way that she occupied it; in a quiet unassuming manner that was full of graciousness.  It has been more than a decade since she passed but the memory of her lingers and fills the legacy of those she left behind.  Luz Maria Molina, we miss you, but we carry the memory of your time with us and we feel the lingering effects of your contribution to our lives.

“Why?”

Generally speaking this tends to be a philosophical question inasmuch as it usually demands a rational explanation. In this context, however, it is merely an interrogatory device to allow the author to set forth the reasons for the composition; in this specific case, the reasons for this blog.

Actually there are several that come to mind. But the one that seems foremost is best illustrated by recalling a time when I worked as a psychotherapist assisting clients with issues of anxiety and all the various issues that stem from this core psychological problem. One day I received a call from a potential client seeking help with a memory problem wanting to know if hypnosis could be useful in helping him remember something. As I attempted to explain the potential benefits and possible limitations of hypnosis, I asked him a simple diagnostic question: “What are you trying to remember?” Believe it or not, this simple diagnostic question at times also tends to serve a therapeutic purpose.

Nevertheless, it is this potential client’s response that is of most interest in this context as it also serves to illustrate why I write. He said, “the other night, while I was sleeping, I had a really great idea, one that would make me a lot of money, but I went back to sleep without writing it down and now I can’t remember it”.

I write this blog for similar, albeit far less ambitious, reasons. I have no delusions that the content of this blog might enrich me in any monetary way. Aside from myself, I know of only two other people who have ever perused the content of these little essays. I also have no delusions that the ideas recorded in this blog represent anything akin to originality or greatness. If the truth be told, most of these ideas have more than likely been conceived and written about centuries ago by those far more insightful than myself and I just have not read far and wide enough to be able to know that I really have no original ideas.

First and foremost, I write this blog in order to get my own thoughts organized and to refine my thinking on the subjects I write about; I find that I do my best thinking with (figuratively speaking) pen in hand since I am able to reflect upon and better refine the ideas in my mind through the editing process associated with writing. Secondly, I write for the reasons expressed by my potential client referred to above; in order to document the ideas floating around in my mind so that I don’t forget them. Finally, another motivation for these essays is for my posterity; in order to leave something to my children and grandchildren other than photographs and memories.

Hopefully, once I leave this world, these little essays will survive to provide a few insights into the kind of person I was and the things I considered to be most important. It is certain that I will have no monetary riches to pass on to my loved ones. But it is my hope that the ideas recorded in these essays may prove far more valuable to those that I hold most dear.

So, more than anything, it is for them that I write. And perhaps in 30 or 40 years, when a member of my progeny is reviewing some old family photographs and asks, “who is that funny looking guy in the picture?” Someone else in the family will say, “If you really want to know him, read these things”.