“In the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money cannot buy…to wit–the wag of a dog’s tail.” ― Josh Billings

It’s been a year now and I’ve reached the point where a little commentary on dogs is needed. I live in a community with people all around me. Right on the other side of the wall. Sitting above my ceiling. Repairing cars in the garage next to my bedroom. Walking large dogs the size of Shetland Ponies past my window each morning and evening. Because most residents are young, the excrement from these animals does not get picked up as is required. That’s an age-related trend. Imagine, if you will, Shetland Pony dumps all around in the 100-plus summer of north Texas.

Sorry for the disgusting start off.

One more indicator pointing to the collapse of civilization. New Yorkers have been talking about this for decades.

Oversize dogs is a recent trend in our society. Who are more likely to own a large dog these days?

• Young adults living alone
• Females living alone
• Students heading off to college
• Young and recently alone (separated, divorced, graduated)

Suicide rates are up, those who report being lonely have dramatically increased, romance is sinking and fewer people have physical contact with another person each week. We all live a dangerously isolating social experience. A large dog is probably one easy way to fill that empty space.

“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.” ― Shannon L. Alder

Living spaces are becoming smaller, we are living by ourselves longer and starting families later in life. The younger generation has decided to add large dogs to their living arrangements for several reasons. The larger dog conveys a sense of safety, especially for young women. Our media deluges us with crime stories, documentaries and movies. The truth is that crime rates have been declining.

Larger dogs are easier companions to take on a run. Young males in search of masculinity get a big dog – a little poodle just won’t work for so many reasons. Probably without realizing it, these oversize animals are replacements for that missing roommate or partner. Cats, goldfish, and chihuahua’s won’t fill the subconscious bill for a meaningful presence in your all alone swinging single space. They don’t talk back as well.

So, for the past several decades, the youth decided they needed a big dog. It became the cool trend. We are all conformists. Who had time to think about all that went along with taking care of that Shetland Pony, while attending classes, working a job, managing a social life and maybe getting along with roommates.

The drawback for these large dogs can be heartbreaking. Last night I looked at the time, it was almost 10pm and the big dog next door was howling away. Was it lonely? Needed to take a potty break? Hungry? The busy and at times chaotic single life does not always work well with the routine needed for animals and children. Seventy percent of large dogs end up being returned to animal shelters. Young owners are less likely to take care of their large pets – mostly because of the cost. Large breeds need different kinds of attention and care. I’ve already pointed out the less likely your poop gets scooped when you have a young owner.

Maybe everyone would be better off if we all spoke to each other more and learned how to be more interdependent – even on our neighbors. I’ve decided to learn Spanish. It will surely help.

“Such short little lives our pets have to spend with us, and they spend most of it waiting for us to come home each day. It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other  because of them.” ― John Grogan

 

 

* Be sure to follow this blog and pass it on to someone else, it can’t hurt…

The Neighborhood Splash Park Has a Story to Tell

“Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.” ― George R.R. Martin

This summer my two grandchildren (ages 4 and 8) and I are making weekly visits to the neighborhood splash park. It’s a small set of slides, fountains and water contraptions that are a perfect lure on a hot summer day. We are in the north Dallas area, so when I say hot, I mean hot! Has it rained at all since I moved up here a year ago? It certainly has in other parts of the state!

While the grandkids are running about in delight I’m sitting under the shade melting, reading, doling out snacks and people watching. Also, clockwatching. I count the minutes left in each heated visit. Neither of them, in fact none of the small children at the park ever walks. Running is the rule. Mine are tearing from the water feature out to the sand volleyball court then to the playground swings and slides. Back and forth, back and forth. No one ever stops to catch their breath. I need a nap just trying to keep track of each one. Almost all of the children are preschool and early elementary age.

Is this what life is like for many today? Living on the run, hardly coming up for air, missing out on what might really be going on and who we miss along the way.

“I believe someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose. Someone should be fired.” ― Michelle Franklin

Early in the morning, we’ve had a run to the donut store. Surely, that’s where some of the energy comes from. As the heat increases each week, we started going to the park when it opens at 9 AM.  There’s a little breeze to chase off the flys and the heat hasn’t started to become so oppressive as it always does this time of year. This is all done for me as I sit and watch each week under the shade of a pavilion. The kids don’t notice what time of day we go. They are racing about in wet swimsuits and complaining about the AC in the car when we head home.

When we get older, we adjust our lives into comfortable routines. Mostly because of the uncertainty of aging. Sometimes, our need for comfort and certainty cause us to miss unexpected experiences of life. Like kids in wet swimsuits.

At 9 AM we are some of the first to arrive. The kids are on their own for a few minutes until the moms and their strollers, packed bags and squealing children begin to appear. There is a dad or two every now and then. The guy last week was very adept at changing diapers. Remind me not to sit at that end of the picnic table next time. I don’t feel like I stand out too much when I see a fellow grandparent trying to keep up. But the real heroes are the pale mothers herding their preschoolers into the jets of cool water. Sitting there under the pavilion it’s always interesting to eavesdrop on the rapid-fire chatter that goes on between these young moms. I think to myself that I’m not the only one who talks too much, like I’ve just been water boarded, ready to spill every detail when I see another adult.

Humans are created to be social. One benefit of being around others, even strangers, is the constant reminder that we’re not so strange after all.

One sweltering afternoon there appeared a self-appointed life-guard mom who marched over to let me know that my grandson was knocking into her small children as he swooshed down the waterslide. She had been doing an excellent job, no one had been swept out in a riptide thus far. Thank you for the notification, I smiled as she turned and trotted back to resolve another toddler crises in the making. My grandson, after some coaching, went back more carefully to the slide. I was proud of myself for not following my first instinct and asking the waterpark matron why her children had chosen to play at the bottom of the waterslide in the first place – setting themselves up for a collision experience. Cause and effect thinking so often escapes people.

Kids are so good at finding new friends to play with. But no one has gotten in the habit of asking for names. I’m amazed at the social skills of my own grandchildren (who are all being raised by introverts). Makes me think about the larger world we all live in. If you count it up, we are mostly among strangers all day long. Our service economy has put people everywhere in our daily path. Many on the phone. We were walking to the mailbox, and my grandson asked me why I was always talking to the strangers we passed. I gave a little pep talk about why it was important to speak with others and be friendly (I did not mention living as a shut-in as a probable cause).

It’s good to always be reminded that we are constantly on stage, and every little action is being observed.

“It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like “What about lunch?” ― A. A. Milne

On one of our latest trips to the water park, I bribed the grandkids, urging them to introduce themselves and learn the names of new friends they made while running around and their frenzied splashing. My grandson’s new friend that day just stared at me as I handed out grapes and oranges. Maybe he wasn’t used to being spoken to as a real person. But probably I was just a funny cartoon in a hat my own kids had grown used to. A smiling mom came up and told me how much she appreciated my grandson’s friendliness and asked if we’d be back next week. I didn’t realize how much a little feedback could mean.

My four-year-old granddaughter runs everywhere. She runs up, grabs a bite or swig and then tears back off to the water. As our visit drew to a close, she ran up, put a grape in her mouth then got a puzzled look on her face, twirled quickly and rushed off only to fly back seconds later to tell me with a triumphant smile that her new friend was named Caroline. A mission driven girl. I looked over at her as we were packing up to leave. She was getting a warm embrace from a soggy triplet who told his mom he met a new friend to invite to his birthday. She smiled at me over his shoulder.

Maybe everyone really does need a little more friendship, a kind word on the way to the mailbox?

“Summertime is always the best of what might be.” ― Charles Bowden

“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”
― Herman Melville, Moby Dick

July 12. This is that day of the year that I think about life’s adventure. It’s my “made up” birthday. I grew up having to celebrate my December birthday every other year. My sister had hers in the same month. We had to rotate who got a birthday party. Both of us were scarred for life. Makes a great story. I married into a family that had several other December birthdays. Add to the giant birthday in December and one doesn’t stand a chance. When I got much older, I made an executive decision and moved my big day to July. In theory, worked great. Some years I end up with two celebrations. Other years, I miss out altogether. It is what it is.

Probably time to give up birthdays anyway.

The director Christopher Nolan has his epic The Odessey premiering at the end of this week. The almost three-hour long film takes audiences on the voyage of Trojan War hero Odysseus on his journey home to Ithaca. The 10-year adventure written by Homer is a Western Civilization essential. Before the world was literate, these great stories helped shape reality and passed on core life lessons. Can you see those faces sitting around the fire, eyes wide, waiting for the next monster to emerge from the sea?

Hollywood today removes our imagination and shows us with its IMAX film technology all we should see and feel. Our world is poorer for it.

“Every mountain top is within reach if you just keep climbing.” ― Barry Finlay

If you’ve never read the story, once you see the film, you might be amazed at the strange world in which the Odessey takes place. All very normal to Odysseus and his crew, of course. The gods and supernatural characters seem to have every sort of personality disorder you could imagine. Each must be manipulated like a two-year-old having a meltdown at Target. Religion in their world was based on trying to appease these disturbed characters.

This is one of the revolutionary ideas that monotheistic Judaism and then Christianity introduced to the ancient world. The living God was not a social construct that reflected all the weird and distorted characteristics from humanity. Instead, he stood apart and taught the ideals we could aspire to be.

After this birthday, albeit made up, I see how The Odyssey story is much like life:

• Traveling through disease, disasters, storms, betrayals and deaths – a journey in a leaky boat. I work so hard to make this world a wonderland, but it’s not really my home.
• All around me during my journey I have passed so many obstacles and opportunities. I have made both foolish and smart choices. I don’t have as much control as I’m led to believe.
• I’ve met a host of creepy characters and heroes all along this journey and I’m sure there are more to meet. I’ve got a hero in my sights this year! We live such independent lives, it’s almost impossible at times to see the influence of others.
• But…”So we do not set our sights on the things we can see with our eyes. All of that is fleeting; it will eventually fade away. Instead, we focus on the things we cannot see, which live on and on” (2 Corinthians 4:18). 

“The only journey is the journey within.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

In Homer’s story, Odysseus and his men were away for twenty years. That wasn’t the plan. It took ten years for the Greeks to break through the walls of Troy. The journey home, due to storms, misadventure and the interference of the gods, took another ten years. When Odysseus finally returned, he found his wife Penelope had waited for him, refusing clamoring suitors for years. His son Telemachus was there as well, grown into manhood and ready to help his father reclaim his place. Even my imagined birthday reminds me this July that I too have faithful family and friends ready to love and embrace me, leaky boat and all. This is what lasts. 

“People don’t take trips—trips take people.” ― John Steinbeck

This has been a season of deaths. Public figures and people in my own story have suddenly been taken from life. Here one minute and gone the next. Others I know are on a longer journey to heaven. This is a hard passage, one I know well. Odysseus set off after the Trojan War for Ithaca with 720 men. They were swept off course and endured many tragedies. All but Odysseus perished during those years. He was the only one to crawl out of the sea back to his home. I am reminded that mortality is an inevitable part of this journey. Thankfully, it doesn’t have to be the end of the story.

“I venture to suggest that patriotism is not a short and frenzied outburst of emotion, but the tranquil and steady dedication of a lifetime.” ― Adlai E. Stevenson

Soccer will never catch on in America.

It’s a youth sport at best.

Our football is a completely different animal.

From the visiting fans from all over the world to the chanting U-S-A mobs packing stadiums across the country, everyone’s preconceived notions melted in seconds like a snow cone under the current heat dome.

Everywhere one looks, from the Sonic drive-in to the Buc-ee’s bathroom, visiting fans from around the world are astounded at the taken-for-granted daily pleasures of living in America. Who would have known that unlimited refills or our vast open roads would elicit such astonishment. Aren’t you proud of all the friendliness that’s expressed from coast to coast? Not THAT surprising, right?

What about the national support for a sport that most people here know very little about? What’s the deal about a red card? We just completed the NBA championship games – where scoring happens in seconds. Our own (real) football can have fast driving offenses that also score points in just minutes. This soccer that we’ve been watching takes forever (if ever) to score a single goal. But that doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Americans have been packed into the stadiums proudly hailing the National Anthem, cheering to the very last minutes. Fans at home have broken viewing records for the network.

Sports bars and viewing parties across the country are packed for every game – at the start the fans belt out the National Anthem right along with their fellow citizens there at the stadium. That nation-wide experience of what’s called Esprit de Corp only comes along once in a lifetime (unfortunately).

“How little do my countrymen know what precious blessings they are in possession of, and which no other people on earth enjoy!” ― Thomas Jefferson

What’s been happening and why?

Let me put on my social science hat and try to make a stab at explaining these unusual phenomena.

American sociologist Robert Bellah (1927-2013) studied our public gatherings like sporting events. Despite two opposing teams in a bitter contest, we always join together with one voice to sing a National Anthem and even at times honor heroes with a common lump in our throats. Bellah used the term Civil Religion to describe these practices that bind us together in common symbolic and deeply meaningful rituals. America doesn’t have a state religion that other societies have always had. For us, we rely on secular events to pull us together. Patriotism and sports work so well for us in this way. Think about the Olympics as the perfect combination of the two. Remember our ice hockey team that beat the Soviets in 1980? It was a Cold War triumph without firing a shot. After WW2, the media helps in dramatic ways to pull us all together from coast to coast into common experiences all at once.

Right now, our religious institutions seem to be failing us in many ways. A lot of voting on peripheral issues, splitting up denominations, public moral scandals right and left. Now, subconsciously, our society craves experiences that offer significant meaning, helping us feel joy and pull us together. These games, even though here today and gone tomorrow, fulfill an important social craving we didn’t know we had.

Humans are social creations. We can’t make it all alone. 

“If you wanted to invent a device that could rewire our minds, if you wanted to create a society of people who were perpetually distracted, isolated, and overtired, if you wanted to weaken our memories and damage our capacity for focus and deep thought, if you wanted to reduce empathy, encourage self-absorption, and redraw the lines of social etiquette, you’d likely end up with a smartphone.”  ― Catherine Price

Americans feel deeply divided right now. The latest survey reports that number to be 80% – that’s incredibly high! Our political leaders are in the business of dividing and conquering. In order to get nominated, a politician has to appeal to his/her primary base. That means swing wide right or left. Messages that unite don’t sell at that level. Our system is broken and socially unhealthy.

Events like the FIFA World Cup give Americans a chance to experience unity, feel national pride, sing the same songs with neighbors on either side of the street, and wear the colors that tell the truth about who we really are when it matters (WW2, 911, Natural Disasters, Amber Alerts, School Shootings, or when your neighbor is diagnosed with cancer).

Our political culture is so broken right now that it probably cannot notice the real causes behind intense and unexpected reactions at these American games. These are signs that our population craves unity, pride and meaning. We always eventually grow tired of the civil warfare.

“Politicians are like bad horsemen who are so preoccupied with staying in the saddle that they can’t bother about where they’re going.” ― Joseph Alois Schumpeter

Maybe what President Nixon (remember him?) called the great silent majority has now become extremely loud and proud about these soccer games. Who would have thought that fifty years after Nixon and in the summer of our 250th year, Americans would be singing John Denver with one voice

That we would need a win so badly.

“Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now, I have six children and no theories.” ― John Wilmot (1647-1680)

Father’s have been here since the start of things. Father’s Day hasn’t been around that long. Didn’t become an official American observance (plus all those cards at the grocery store) until Presidents LBJ and Nixon.

When I taught college classes, my students always agreed that fathers were essential. It was much more difficult for us to come up with explanations for why it was so easy for dads to leave their families.

It is believed that today almost one-third of all children in America live without their biological father present in their lives. Children who grow up without their father are more likely to:

• Drop out of school
• Become pregnant as a teenager
• Commit crime
• Abuse alcohol and drugs
• Live in poverty
• Go to prison

“Listen, there is no way any true man is going to let children live around him in his home and not discipline and teach, fight and mold them until they know all he knows. His goal is to make them better than he is. Being their friend is a distant second to this.” ― Victor Devlin

My sister and I didn’t have our biological father to launch us into our futures. As a father I tried to be intentional and make up the difference for all that I had missed. It was hard because I didn’t have much history to work with. What saved us all was my wife and her wonderful family. God is always there to carry us through. As a grandfather, I’m now setting my sights on emulating the lifesaving role models I had. I feel a responsibility to be both grandparents to my grandchildren.  Today I endeavor to be part of the supporting cast.

Lately, I keep putting my shorts on backwards. It’s not really a big deal until I try to put something into my pocket. Takes me a little while to realize the universe is not spinning in reverse…There are too many of our sons and daughters walking around in the world today living in a backwards universe…

• • Today’s public schools resemble minimum security prisons
  • A day at the beach these days can be more like an end of the world apocalypse
  • More teenagers are addicted to drugs, alcohol, smoking, pornography, screen time, and gambling than ever before in our history

During the summer, my grandchildren spend Tuesdays with me. My daughter told them it’s like going to camp, but you don’t have to spend the night or take a shower. There’s a splash park down the road. It’s a fun activity for both an eight and four-year-old. After about an hour, my granddaughter (the four-year-old) starts working her way around all the picnic tables, sampling the snacks and lunch items of each family group. She chit chats with kids and moms. She’s running for speaker of the house. I tell her she needs to find out the names of all these new playmates, instead hollering across the waterpark “hey friend!” (like a mini-me LBJ).

“Nobody will listen to you unless they sense that you like them.” ― Donald Miller

Their dad has to travel out of town every other week or so, for the whole week. It’s very hard on him. He wants to be here and be involved in their lives every single day. That’s what he’s always done. He agreed to the work role change so that they could all stay here and not move. A trade-off for stability. Dads probably make many sacrifices that we never know about while we’re growing up.

While I’m watching them running to and fro splashing around like Huns sacking Rome, I wonder what I will be able to do year after year to keep them from feeling like they’re living in a backward universe. How many years of their lives will I be able to help? I’m certain I can keep them from putting their shorts on right side around. Most days…

I did get it right for my granddaughter’s swimsuit on the second time we went to the splash park (after a big argument).

“A child looks up at the stars and wonders. A great father puts a child on his shoulders and helps them to grab a star.” ― Reed B Markham

 

“In learning to learn again, we can learn of this wisdom and allow our children (and so ourselves) to become the free, whole individuals this good earth has prepared us to be.”

― Joseph Chilton Pearce

 

We’ve all had rites of passage. It’s a familiar term but when you ask someone, it may be difficult to nail down a concrete definition. Each society has specific events that occur that mark important transitions in life. These change with history. We’re not celebrating a teens’ first cattle drive or when grandpa’s pocketknife was passed down.

These days it’s the first day of school, driver’s license or getting an Apple watch.

Individuals don’t invent their own private rites of passage. These are cultural markers that provide meaning and entry into the larger civilization. What can you remember as you grew up? How did you know for sure you had “arrived” at a new age/stage?

The Passage to the Front Seat

I instigated such a rite this week. My grandson has completed 2nd grade. He is eight years old. That means, in Texas, he has graduated from the car seat. Allow me to remind you that when I was his age my comrades and I rolled around in the beds of pickup trucks like sacks of wet laundry. Look how far we’ve come.

My grandchildren (both of them) and I spent the day together earlier in the week. I told him, he’d now graduated from the booster seat in the back to the front seat. Welcome to the world of the windshield and the Star Trek dashboard. He didn’t have much to say but did immediately begin to fiddle with all the buttons.

What I was not prepared for were the immediate first words from his four-year-old sister who has spent her entire life strapped in the backseat with her brother’s constant company.

“It’s lonely back here!”

On the verge of tears.

Ugh. How to solve that terrible problem I had not anticipated?

We have a life size stuffed toy bear at home that both the kids have grown up with. Doesn’t every Baylor family have one?

“We will get Mr. Bear and buckle him into the seat back there with you. That will help, won’t it?”

“Can we go get him right now?”

“Can you still see the map from back there? Is the arrow going in the right direction”

Nothing like a little distraction. She is Sacajawea – from her car seat behind me, making sure I am always heading in the right direction (and not ending up in Ft. Worth). My new co-pilot sitting beside me has now decided to use the digital map to locate geographic sites.

“We are about to cross a creek.”

Maybe they will grow up to become meteorologists. That’s the other career their grandmother secretly wanted to pursue.

An Afternoon at the Movies

“People leave traces of themselves where they feel most comfortable, most worthwhile.” ― Haruki Murakami

We went to a movie on our day together. That was a ritual that their grandmother liked to do almost every week. Back when they made movies. I played the Star Wars preview to be sure it would interest a four- and eight-year-old. Oh yes, we want to go! Famous last words.

When I was eleven, I got dumped off at the movies by myself while the adults shopped at the mall. It was not a kids movie. That’s not a rite of passage. I guess in the 70’s that’s another thing that was okay?

It was lunch time, pizza was on the menu at the theater. So many options these days ($$). Of course, they each chose a bright red drink. Has Secretary Kennedy fixed those yet? I got the giant barrel of popcorn, only 50 cents more than medium. Thinking this would keep everyone busy.

“We don’t have pizza ready to sell yet.”

Said the only guy working concessions that day. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. He probably just got up a little while ago. Summer break has started, right? We made our way to the wrong theater. The ticket girl was very friendly but seemed to mostly mumble and smile as she watched us walk through the doors opposite the ones we should have gone into. There was no one else in the dimly lit hall. Seemed like directions would be easy to give as she watched us with her bright smile.

There were just a few others in the giant auditorium with us. The previews were mostly kid friendly. What a relief. I’m glad I got the giant popcorn. I did forget to caution both kids to pace their red drinks and not gulp them down like pirates within five minutes of being seated. So much to remember.

My grandson is a bottomless pit. Though he has become picky at mealtimes. He seems always ready to eat something in between. At eight years old he has also learned how put me in the palm of his hand. The film was just minutes into the action-packed character introductions (after 30 minutes of previews and commercials!). He leaned over and softly said to me,

“You should go check and see if they are ready to sell pizza yet.”

He doesn’t miss much. Does need to be reminded to tie his shoes. The theater sells Pizza Hut products and are very proud of them. The hurried clerk did have some ready to heat up but cautioned that they were small, I should get two. By the time I got back to the seats, I think both children had made trips to the bathrooms. I also missed the part where Jabba the Hut produced an heir. Who would date someone like that? I guess I’ll see that part when it comes out on HBO.

“What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” –  S.J. Watson

This was too much movie for a four-year-old. But she hung in like a trooper. Much of the time laying on me in the fancy reclining seat. I’m hoping for Toy Story to be shorter when it arrives next month.

Our lives are a series of passages through time and experience. There are big deal turns in this path as we make our way – like first steps, graduations, baptisms, learning to read, marriages, births and moving up to the front seat. Then there is everything else. All the other habits and events that we build our days with, that make living mean so much when we look back over our shoulder. Popcorn and pizza seem so mundane. An afternoon together, part of our passage into a beloved future.

Keep making those memories, every little moment is one important step in your passage of life.

“Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.” ― Saul Bellow

 

 

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” ― Vivian Greene

Tornados are wiping out homes across the Midwest this season. I saw news a report that a brand-new home was taken down to the foundation. The family, huddled in the basement storm shelter, were all safe.

In my circles this week, it seems like there are a lot of family and friends having their own storms tearing up life. In my academic field of study, there’s a branch that focuses on disaster research. It was always fascinating to me that from that perspective, the tornado wasn’t really the disaster. It was planting a mobile home in a geographic region where those storms strike with regularity every year.

I don’t know why I’m witnessing this season of disaster for so many. My prayer list is filling up with names of people with health crises. Others are traveling terrible dark journeys of their own making. A trip to the repair shop as medical procedures are on the calendar. Others are navigating emergencies regarding their aging parents. I have friends who are making choices that involve relocating. It’s a wonderful shift but always brings with it levels of stress and strain.  It’s been almost a year for me since my own move – there’s the good, the bad and the ugly. 

We get to this age/stage and thought our world would be relatively predictable. And then it’s not.

“The future is certain. It is just not known.” ― Johnny Rich

Second grade graduation was this morning. I don’t remember that kind of ceremony when I was that age or when I had a second grader myself. But now, with a grandson, it’s a big deal. Mine was keeping his friends sitting near him up to speed on directions the softspoken teacher was whispering into the microphone and he made sure distracted neighbors didn’t forget their certificates left on the floor. I hope he keeps that helpful quality the rest of his life. All I wanted to do as I looked on from a distance was comb his hair.

Three classes of students, all fidgeting in their rows were recognized for academic achievements, perfect attendance, reading the most books and even typing skills. The best part was watching kids crane their necks looking out into the packed cafeteria full of family. Each one trying to find that recognizable face. The light in their eyes when they saw how much they mattered.

In Houston it was hurricanes and floods. Up here in North Texas, it’s tornados and hail. No matter where you live, when disaster approaches (or is currently hailing down on you), a storm cellar is a good idea. I mean the metaphorical kind. The Hurricane Harvey flood in Houston did NOT call for a cellar of any kind!

When we go through terrible times, even those of our own making, we need refuge. Often that means people who will call on the phone (notice I did not use the word text). We need answers at times, from those who’ve been there before. Sometimes just a silent presence to listen. A push out the door. An honest piece of feedback that no one else has the guts to share. Someone to comb your hair. Good friends to send you a song from the past. A place to hide out for a while. Someone to guard the door and keep the ladies with casseroles away. She was there holding your hand in the waiting room. He drove you to rehab. They came over and cleaned up your house and never said a word about it. All these living places of shelter that kept you safe from the storm.

Maybe someone you know needs some shelter right now. I hear some distant thunder.

“The internet was supposed to open up the world and make our small worlds bigger. Instead of a wide-angle lens, it turned into an electron microscope — narrowing everything down to timelines, algorithms, and micro-issues, leaving us in a darkened room, eyes pressed to the glass, unable to see the walls closing in.”
― Lawrence Nault

People in America experience alarming rates of isolation and loneliness. It’s not getting better, only worse. What happens when the storm comes and there’s no place for refuge?

“You will never forget a person who came to you with a torch in the dark…” ― Anonymous

 

 

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.” ― Andy Rooney

People started calling him “sir.” It seemed to have happened overnight. He knew that the countdown clock could not be stopped. Years ago, he had moved his birthday, but that hadn’t worked at keeping the old grey wolf from his door. There were several actions he knew that he could take to slow down the debilitating effects of getting old and to keep his life healthy and whole:

• Make and keep social connections
• Follow a healthy diet
• Remain cognitively challenged
• Stay up and move with exercise every day
• AND get regular sleep each 24 hours

“What hath night to do with sleep?”  ― John Milton

After his wife passed away, he could no longer sleep at night. Every now and then a very brief nap was possible. But those were too rare to even dream about.

Every morning at 4am, he rolled over and looked at the digital numbers shining from the clock. What was it about this hour that brought him back from slumber? It happened again and again. Some sort of internal mechanism, like an alarm, tapped him awake. There weren’t any cows to milk or chickens to chase. He did record coyotes howling outside his front door playing chase on the golf course in the middle of the night. It is reported that Martha Stewart only gets 3-4 hours of sleep each night. She’s now 84. Lack of sleep doesn’t seem to be slowing her down.

“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.” ― David Benioff

Eventually, he went shopping for a new bed. This would surely solve the problem. Feeling like Goldilocks, he got one that was not too firm and not too soft, but just right. Once it was delivered he learned it would take six weeks to break in. There’s always the fine print. It was suggested that he walk on his new bed. This would release the inner magic and make his bed the perfect escape for dreaming. On their next several visits, he had his grandchildren dance a jig atop the bed and learn some classic pop music moves. They’d never heard of moonwalking.

“He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

After years of using over the counter drugs to help chase down his dreams he did some research. This strategy was no longer going to work. Prolonged use promised to turn his brain to mashed potatoes. Since there was no one in his future who would be willing to change his diapers, he was going to have to come up with a new plan. The doctor urged becoming less dependent on medications. He thought this a great plan, as he tossed and turned night after night. There were all sorts of sleep-inducing gummies, hormones, minerals like magnesium and even taking a little cannabis (that’s pot!). Nothing seemed to do the trick. Hypnos could not be lured from his dark cave.

He had tried cognitive and physical methods with mixed results. Counting backwards from 100 helped keep his mind from focusing on solving the global issues of the day. While waiting to nod off, he had written four or five novels in his head, a chapter a night. Deep breathing from the gut had been suggested on the news. Drinking herbal teas while he reread books he had saved from his great giveaway was a pleasant practice. But did it really put him to sleep and keep him there? Mostly it guaranteed a middle of the night trip to the bathroom.

“One of the Georges – I forget which – once said that a certain number of hours’ sleep each night – I cannot recall at the moment how many – made a man something which for the time being has slipped my memory.” ― P.G. Wodehouse

As time passed he learned some lessons about what to do when unable to sleep:

• Don’t keep tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken. Pull out a book, turn on the lamp and read a chapter or two.
• The TV or phone screen can make the insomnia effect worse.
• Turning temperature down in the evening helps. He and his wife always had an ongoing civil war over the thermostat.

To mask the banging and bouncing of the children’s soccer team living above him, he had ocean sounds playing on his phone all night. Awaking during his night vigil, the rhythmic crashing waves actually sounded like someone frying chicken in the next room. Had he really been transported to a KFC?

Everyone he met had advice to give about improving sleep. Many in his age group were also suffering the same plague. Drink this, don’t drink that. Get some exercise, but not too late. Keep a regular schedule. Eliminate as much stress and anxiety as possible. Saying your prayers is always a good strategy. He learned that people who lived alone have a higher risk of insomnia. Maybe he needed a cat? No, that’s never a good idea. He did notice a lot of younger singles walking giant dogs past his window each evening after returning from work. How did those beasts spend their lonely days? Watching The Bold And The Beautiful?

When his grandchildren spent the night, they slept in his big comfortable bed with him. Both were in the habit of popping up before the sun to declare with gusto, “I’m starving!” On these nights, he slept in one or two hour shifts, keeping a watchful eye on each sleeping child. What must it be like to dream in such peace? This moment in time would pass so quickly. Sooner than could be imagined they would each launch into their own busy lives. He would see them in only fits and spurts. Wakeful moments like these were to be treasured.

“Good night – may you fall asleep in the arms of a dream, so beautiful, you’ll cry when you awake.” ― Michael Faudet

 

 

“We live in a world that is beyond our control, and life is in a constant flux of change. So we have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain.” ― Glenn Pemberton

It appears that I’ve moved from flood and hurricane territory up to the hail and tornado highway. It’s fascinating to watch the meteorologists on the TV screen using the latest technology to track approaching storms. All the colors and grids and radar projections keeping us on the edge of our seats. Cell phone technology allows instant communication with storm chasers racing down the highway, while all the traffic is heading in the opposite direction. So much drama. The arrival of the approaching tornadoes and hail are plotted minute by minute. I squeezed my vehicle into the garage after hearing of baseball size hail heading this way. Evening classes and hockey were cancelled.

I didn’t get a drop of rain.

Like Charleton Heston parting the Red Sea, the ominous front went right and left. A very anticlimactic evening. A reminder that some things, like the weather, are out of our control. All we can do is batten down the hatches ride it out. Or turn on the sprinkler and pray for some rain.

“It is our attitude toward events, not events themselves, which we can control. Nothing is by its own nature calamitous — even death is terrible only if we fear it.” ― Epictetus

There was an endocrinologist (what’s that?) on the news this week.  Florence Comite has just written a book with advice about helping people to take control of their health and live longer. Most of our medical care is reactive – helping us to solve problems that have developed due to disease, sickness, poor lifestyles and aging. She advocates a proactive approach. Her brief interview made a lot of sense.

It seems there’s much more we can control about our health if we will become aware and make some early adjustments. Getting the right data from health professionals is important. She believes we aren’t trapped by our genes but can solve health problems before they occur. Get better sleep and eat protein. That’s what I just talked with my doctor about. Unfortunately, he’s mostly trying to help me fix all that I’ve messed up in the past fifty years. I was reassured when he told me that taking more drugs was not the direction he likes to go. Maybe soon I’ll stop rattling when I walk??

Modern medical care is almost miraculous. It’s also become out of reach because of cost. Only half of our adult population report that they can afford it these days. Over one-third of the population don’t seek medical care because of cost (lack of insurance).  When it comes to health in our country, there are two America’s. One has easy access and the other is struggling to just to pay for necessary medications.

I keep telling my friends and family to think about the blessing of the wonderful medical care we have. Especially when there’s a terrible diagnosis and long-term treatment planned. Medical science and research has provided so many breakthroughs – it is a miracle. If you have the right insurance plan. 

“Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.” ― Thomas à Kempis

Has anyone ever misplaced their children in the store? There’s that moment of panic in the pit of your stomach. The feeling seems to last for two days. Then you hear the familiar voice and turn the corner. Right where you left him or just a few meandering steps away.

Last week my grandkids were eating their ice cream outside and staying within sight, or so I thought as I had instructed. And just like that, they connected with a couple of new acquaintances and crawled through the iron fence to frolic with unabashed joy on the next-door golf course. It was late evening, the sun had not set yet as they tore along the empty fairways. At least that’s what it sounded like to me. All I could do was hear the loud joyous voices. The trees blocked my view. I got a glimpse here and there. The laughter and shouting were nonstop. Their escape occurred before I knew what was happening. That familiar panic set in. How was I to get them back? They were trespassing. What if someone got hurt? How could I help?

After almost an hour, I caught sight of mine as they drew near the fence. They were close enough to hear me call out. I got them back on the right side quickly. The rest of the story was not much fun for anyone. But I was back in control.

Spending time during my weeks with a seven and four-year-old, crawling out from under tables at the fast-food joint (those extra clean floors), senior citizens driving with glaucoma while we dance across the church parking lot, little Miss Independent getting trapped in the restroom at the ice rink, taking an evening walk together hoping for some magic time but ending up getting chased by a gaggle of geese someone thought would be fun to tease… I’m the senior adult who believed he was in control. 

We are living in an age of deluded belief that we control so much of our lives. When was the last time a band of raiding Vikings disrupted your vacation plans? But all it takes is a lost phone, a virus, perpetual highway construction, AI, a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, or an out of the blue diagnosis – and life can go completely off the rails in small or very big ways.

Maybe instead of breaking your neck trying to stay in control of the world around you, the better daily goal is to manage your own peace and relation to others? All any of us can hope to accomplish today is make an effort to wrestle with our own self, to demonstrate love and be the person others need right now.

“All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure. ” ― Mark Twain

I once heard a communication study presentation that explained the subconscious effects of the instructor’s dress on learning. When the teacher dresses casual, maybe even leaning toward the slouchy, students tended to not take the lesson very seriously. The inverse was also true. A more formally dressed instructor helped students, without realizing it, internalize their learning with more gravity, and hopefully understand and remember at a little deeper level. We are all living in a more casual culture. You wouldn’t believe the dress code of many faculty these days. Some look as if they’re living in their cars. We really do need to address salaries!

The other day I was standing in my closet looking up at the hats on the top shelf. In my latter days I used to have a whole professor costume I wore. I thought, if these kids are paying to attend a private school, they ought to get something extra for their money. Students, no matter where they go to college, don’t usually remember the course content very well. But they do remember their instructors.

There’s also a drawer filled with bowties – not pasta – in my room. I used to wear them to church. I couldn’t reason to dress less for God each week than I did for work. Now, I’m attending a casual Christianity church. Who isn’t? When will I ever wear these ties again?  At the top of my closet there’s an old brown suitcase that’s been with me for decades. My grandson took one look at its contents a few weeks ago. It’s full of all my long ties. I had saved these for him before he was even born. He excitedly exclaimed, “Can I wear one to church today?”

Dressing up for church spread to the larger populations with the growth of the middle class who had more money and the birth of the textile industry with extra clothes that needed a place to wear.

Casual Christianity wasn’t invented by the local church to attract new customers. It’s been creeping into our culture for a long time now. Do you remember Casual Fridays? Supposedly invented back in the ’60’s by someone promoting Hawaiian shirts. The future doesn’t look good for ties. Down in Houston, where I lived for thirty years, all the teen boys wore shorts to church all year long – even through the cold winter weeks. Probably will be wearing them to work when they reach midlife.

I almost wore one of my infamous bowties to church this morning. Deciding it was too much costume, those sitting around me would think the circus was in town or something. We’re very casual Christians at my new church. I don’t need my costume anymore. In this next chapter of life, I’m no longer a teacher. I did just get a watch with a big face so that my grandson could start learning to tell time. While walking down the large central hall this morning, on the way to the children’s area at church, God said to all of my questions, “It’s not time yet.” Right now, I’m a spare.

“You meet Noah after the flood, you think, That brave, faith-filled, visionary man. You meet him before and you’re like, What a nut job. Perspective and timing matter. Sometimes you have to accept that you might not be able to see the truth from here.” ― Courtney C. Stevens

Do you remember recently our Secretary of Transportation urging passengers to stop flying in their pajamas? The COVID lock-in didn’t help. Doing business from a computer screen, who needs to even wear pants? Does anyone know how to iron a shirt anymore? Just think about what your retirement account would like today if you had invested in a hoody manufacturing plant or the place that makes those skin-tights woman are now wearing as pants? Isn’t there a U.S. Senator that wears a hoody to work? Wonder where they will hang his official portrait? Next to Millard Fillmore?

“I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.”  ― Walt Whitman

I was about to attend our modern worship service recently but just couldn’t stay when I observed the very young music leader wearing a cowboy hat. What’s next? It is now typical for band members at church to wear ball caps. Hats are now fashion statements and no longer used to keep hair and sweat out of your eyes. I went back over to the senior citizen service and wouldn’t you know it, some old rancher right out of Lonesome Dove central casting marched down the aisle wearing his straw Stetson. Welcome to the New World, Christopher.

We probably no longer have an agreed upon dress code for adults today. Just when I got to feeling put out by the whippersnappers, I turned around during the church meet and greet on Easter and there was an old guy (my age?) wearing an even older ball cap sitting right behind me. It’s not just a young people phenomenon. Years ago I was officiating a wedding and when I instructed all to take their seats once the bride had made her way to the front, I looked across at the young man wearing his ten-gallon cowboy pride and joy on the front row, I invited all to take their seats and added, and please remove your hats. He and all his older relatives seemed oblivious??

The Japanese Yakuza organized crime members wear their tattoos under suits out of sight and have for hundreds of years. Hidden as a sign of modesty and respect. It’s doubtful their syndicate membership is a secret from anyone. Today, our tattoos are everywhere. A new status symbol or something for another generation. Even on the face. They can communicate mixed messages to a society with different histories. I’m only sorry I won’t be alive to see these people in their 70’s holding their grandbabies for family photos. Instead of Popeye the Sailor bearing an anchor symbol on his shoulder, it’s young women today with emblems proudly emblazoned on their bare biceps.

Several years ago I started casually surveying students who had giant tattoos up their legs or arms. I wanted to know how much these had cost. Amazing! They are not an economical, quick decision. In a casual culture, where people also proudly show off their skin, tattoos can make very loud statements. For the rest of one’s life. The now famous entertainer we know as Jelly Roll revealed in an interview that his tattoos no longer represent the man he has now become. Many he got while in prison. Unfortunately, so many are on his face.

“They say that a tattoo should signify an important event in your life. How many, do you think, signify what somebody is trying to hide?” ― G.C. McKay

Not everyone dresses for success these days. Casual and comfortable now rule society. It’s a relief to know you can still practice conspicuous consumption in casual ways. I did find some sweatpants selling for $3000 (must be handwashed using baby shampoo). What a world we’ve made to sit back and relax in.