The Step Stool

I don’t remember if I had reached my 10^th birthday before I started serving mass as an Altar Boy at Saint Anthony’s in Charleston, WV, but I do remember the weekday masses were very early in the morning.  At that time, St. Anthony’s had two priests: Father Gabriel was younger, kinder and more patient with the Altar Boys; Father Linus was older, meaner and had much less patience with us.  Luckily, for me, when I was first scheduled to serve the weekday masses shortly after doing whatever it was I had to do to become an Altar Boy, I was paired with my older brother, Jimmy.

Dad would drop us off at the church around 6:00 am, giving us enough time to prepare for the 6:30 mass.  After the service, we would just wait around until school, which was next door, started at 9:00.  If Fr. Linus performed the mass, he would just leave us on our own and we sat out in the cold on the front steps of the school until one of the nuns came and unlocked the doors; when Fr. Gabriel performed the mass he would invite us into the Rectory with him while he ate his breakfast, a bowl of cereal, that Jimmy and I always politely declined sharing with him.

Jimmy was a great mentor for me; he always did the majority of the mass preparation work and was sure to help guide me around the Altar and through the mass, giving me signals when I got lost in the Latin service and didn’t ring the bells at the right time or didn’t quite have the choreography just right.  You know, those times when Fr. Linus would scowl and grunt, but Fr. Gabriel would nod and smile.

Then, one morning, Jimmy wasn’t feeling well and stayed home, while Dad dropped off a very nervous and worried fourth grader at St. Anthony’s church.  I had watched Jimmy closely for weeks so I pretty much knew what to do to prepare for mass, but some of the little details were new for me.  For example: the first thing to do was to light the candles around the Altar.  I knew where the candle lighter was, but I had never actually lit the thing before.  In fact, I had never lit a match before in my life.  The candle lighter was leaning against the wall next to two little “boxes” on the wall, one over top of the other.  I could just reach the lower of the two boxes and reached in to pull out an Ohio Blue Tip match.  I tried and tried and tried to light that darn thing striking it against the little strip of sandpaper-like section on the wall with no success.  I put that match back and tried another and then another.  Finally, Fr. Gabriel came up behind me and asked, “Having trouble?”.

I said, “A little, but I can do it.”

“Where is James, this morning?” the kind Father asked.

“He’s sick, so it’s just me today.”

“Well, that’s okay,” he said.  “Here let me help you.”

Father Gabriel reached up  into the top box and pulled out a match – it was then that I understood why they were called “Ohio Blue Tips” and then that I realized the matches I was using was from the discarded box and had already served their purpose.

I am pretty sure, Fr. Gabriel had probably watched me for several minutes and knew exactly what I had done wrong, for he was very animated in his motions and made sure I was watching him closely as he lit the match, lit the candle lighter, blew out the match and put it into the only box I could reach.  But, he never told me I was doing it wrong or ridiculed me for being so stupid.  He simply, showed me the right way and didn’t make a show of it being a teaching moment.  I was embarrassed nonetheless but thankful for his discretion.  He handed me the lit candle lighter and I went about lighting the candles around the Altar – for a weekday mass – differently than if it were a Sunday.

The next morning, even though Jimmy was back in the robes with me, Fr. Gabriel said to him, “Let Joseph light the candles this morning.”  Jimmy obliged and handed me candle lighter he was getting ready to light.  I took it from him and approached the matches to find a small, step stool against the wall under the boxes.  I stepped up and reached into the right box removing a match with an actual blue tip on it’s head.  I could feel Fr. Gabriel silently smiling behind me as I struck a match for the first time and succeeded in performing this task.

That was a very meaningful and valuable lesson for me, way back then, as a young boy.  Fr. Gabriel helped me, taught me and made a job easier for me in a very subtle and quiet way that allowed me to keep my dignity and not have to acknowledge the teacher or even acknowledge my own ignorance.

Throughout life, I too have tried to put step stools wherever I can to help someone else along the way.  So many times, I see people ridicule someone, “You idiot, that’s not how you do that!  Here, let me show you.”  And, I think – “Ah, Father Linus when you could have been Fr. Gabriel.”  I challenge everyone who got this far in my story, look for ways to place a step stool instead of making a big deal out of someone else’s inexperience.  Not all teaching moments have to be announced or advertised.  A little subtle understanding can go a long way.

We moved away from Charleston and St. Anthony’s after my 5^th grade year.  I do not know what became of Fr. Linus, Fr. Gabriel, the Sisters or my classmates at St. Anthony’s, but I do have memories of them all.  Jimmy continued to be a mentor for me in life until he left us far too young.  And, I will always be thankful for Fr. Gabriel’s step stool and Ohio Blue Tip matches.

A One-Man March

We have failed to realize that Russia is at war with us because we still think war is waged on a battlefield and casualties are measured by deaths or geography lost.

Meanwhile, the foundation upon which our democracy was built and the strengths we have long known from diversity, unity, ingenuity and the faith in our political system has been rotted away by the poisonous misinformation and propaganda implanted via electronic and social media weapons we are too slow to recognize as being fatally effective.

We have fallen victim to the old “Divide and Conquer” stratagem that worked well in traditional war and is still effective in modern warfare. We have let Russia and their manipulation of unwilling stooges divide us into irreparable factions achieving the enemy’s objective by fighting and destroying ourselves.

When the “conquer” leg of this strategy is enacted, we will be too weak and ineffective to respond. Putin’s recent braggadocio speach is intended to put us on alert – “Now that you are divided, you are at our mercy should we decide to conquer you.”

While America sleeps, Russia is positioning to take over our position as world leader and we are handing it to them on a silver platter without even realizing what we are doing.

We must, today, stop fighting internally and wake up to the real threats inherent in the world of today. If we continue to confuse our neighbors as our enemies, we have already lost half the battle. We need a leader who can unite us and rally us to respond as a cohesive and inspired force. And, that will require us to embrace all individuals and groups who want to be a part of the American Dream and the democratic experiment we are still attempting to perfect.

The time to save our tomorrow is today!

Men of America, we must join our wives, mothers, sisters and now our children (students) in standing up to the power-brokers who are positioning us for an infamous fall. Rise and be heard; shake the hand of your brother and let the world know, America is still beautiful and the Star Spangled Banner yet waves for the land of the free and the home of the brave.

An Imagined Angelic Rant (Sorry, some profanity included.)

It must be awful for all the souls in heaven who were victims of gun violence to have to welcome yet more angels into their fold.

They must be astonished and wondering: “What are you doing here? Didn’t our deaths mean ANYTHING? We thought our lives were sacrificed so yours wouldn’t have to be. What the fuck is wrong with people down there?” (I know that they probably don’t curse in heaven, but I don’t speak Angel.)

“Well,” say the newly arrived, “we come here bearing all of their thoughts and prayers.”

“THOUGHTS and PRAYERS!? THOUGHTS and PRAYERS!? We have more thoughts and prayers than we know what to do with. We have rooms full of thoughts and prayers from Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, Miami, Las Vegas and on and on and on. And, just when we think perhaps we’ve had enough for someone, ANYONE, to actually do something, we get more souls bringing us more thoughts and prayers. When will enough be enough? If people would stop praying things get better and start taking action to make things get better, maybe you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Well, it’s hard for the politicians to …”

“POLITICIANS! POLITICIANS? To hell with the politicians. We’re talking about the people. Blaming the politicians is just a convenient excuse for the citizens not doing anything. When politicians wanted to ban alcohol, but the people did not, that amendment was appealed. When politicians wanted to stop blacks and women from voting but the people did not, changes were made. If people want gun control to prevent tragedy after tragedy, which the thoughts and prayers they sent along with us suggested they did, something would be done.”

“Well, we were just worshiping together in church. We did not expect to be coming up here today.”

“Oh, we do not blame you. Your souls, of course, are welcomed in heaven, we just hate to learn, once again, that we died in vain and are hoping you do not come to that same conclusion in a week or month when we have to give out more wings to souls who were just minding their own business when tragedy strikes.

We do not want any more thoughts and prayers we want actions and dares. We want someone or some group of courageous mortals to take action and dare the politicians to stop them. The pen can be mightier than the gun if and when some hand finds the courage to start writing the bill, law or petition. Maybe we can cash in some of these thoughts and prayers for a human spine. Maybe we angels should send our thoughts and prayers down to Earth and pray that your deaths are the triggers for the changes we thought our deaths would result in. We pray that you are the last souls to join our club. We have no more room for another group of souls from gun violence in America.

Make America Great Again!? My ass. How about making America safe again? If they treated automatic weapons the way they treated refugees maybe you would still be in that church worshiping with your neighbors.

Now, go dump those thoughts and prayers over there and then come join our choir as we pray for courageous Americans to stop the insanity.”

Is America Sleeping?

Whereas, John F. Kennedy’s treatise, “Why England Slept” describes the unwillingness to stop the advancement of Naziism due to England’s lack of preparedness to fight a foreign foe at that time, I almost feel like a future treatise, “Why America Slept” will be written to describe our unwillingness to stop the destruction occurring at the hands of the Trump administration due to our lack of preparedness to fight an Administration run a muck.

Kennedy warned that America should learn from England’s mistake and prepare for war just in case, hoping preparation can prevent war rather than have unpreparedness be the cause for appeasement and watching silently from the sidelines.

I am not saying that I think the Trump Administration is comparable to the Third Reich, just drawing a parallel to the inability to confront a threat out of unpreparedness to deal with the threat. Even though our Constitution does include provisions to deal with an inept and dangerous Administration, I just wonder if our unwillingness to go down those paths will end up in a nightmare while we sleep.

I wonder if America is currently asleep while isolationism and nationalism guide us in a direction we ought not go and tyranny starts to chip away at democracy?

Are we allowing cries of “Fake news” to clog the gears of a free press upholding the 1st Amendment providing the cornerstone of our Democratic experiment? Are we being serenaded to sleep by a lullaby of constant lies and alternative facts?

Are we asleep on our feet, singing anthems to a flag at sporting events, simply to drown out the cries for civil liberties fought so hard for in a not too distant past?

Are we slumbering through one gun violence tragedy after another simply to let commerce hide behind the façade of 2nd Amendment patriotism and a far too powerful gun lobby?

Are we napping while a complete and intentional sabotage of an imperfect but working Health Care System takes place because of the previous President’s name being hung on the label?

Have we hit the snooze button while foxes are put into position to guard the hen houses of Climate Control, EPA, Banking Regulations and more?

Have we grown weary to the defamation of historical allies while coddling the man-crush behavior towards known enemies of the nation as they tinker with the ruination of our government and electoral process?

It’s one thing to sleep as external forces threaten the peace and stability of our world, but quite another thing to sleep while the threat happens from within.

Just as when JFK penned “Why England Slept”, there is a large contingent who would guffaw at the thought that we are sleeping while our world as we know it is approaching the brink of destruction. I know that my suggestion that the Trump administration has the potential of causing great harm to our democracy will be easily brushed aside by his supporters and those still intoxicated with the thought of Making America Great Again. But, I, for one, find it hard to sleep without, at least, raising a red flag and doing what little I can to voice my concern.

So, I will say it before you do, I am no John F. Kennedy, but I do believe there may be some lessons still to be learned from this great American who did, indeed, help make America Great during his time at the helm. Please, let’s not let unnecessary damage be done to our democracy by an unwillingness or unpreparedness to do battle with the current Administration when and where the time calls for it. Such as now.

Wake up America! Before it is too late? Which, I hope, is not already the case.

Find the Common Ground

Today, in America, it takes just as much courage to applaud our new President as it does to walk in protest against him.

There are just as many Americans who believe it is our responsibility as an American citizen to honor, respect and follow our President as there are Americans who believe it is our responsibility as an American citizen to stand up in opposition to government leaders who we believe jeopardize the principles of democracy that our republic was established on.

And, both sides plead for love over hate; and, both sides plead for unity.

“Unity”, however, should not be a call to dump your convictions and embrace mine. “Unity” should be a call to come together to find a common ground.

Americans definitely have the courage to take a stand; that has become painfully obvious. The courage we seem to lack, however, is the courage to compromise.

Stand by your convictions, one and all, but I also challenge you to find a common ground. You may never agree on the character or qualifications of the POTUS, but perhaps you can agree that the local park could use some cleaning up – reach out to each other and do that. You may forever be on opposite ends of the abortion debate, but maybe you can agree that domestic violence education could benefit your community – reach out to each other and work on that. You may never gain agreement on what, if any, gun control laws should be in place, but maybe you can agree that the public library could use some upgraded technology – reach out to each other and work on that.

Pointing fingers at and blaming the other side for today’s divisiveness will not help bridge it. We want our leaders to lead by example? How about we, as citizens, set the example we wish our leaders to follow.

Find the common ground. Our country is depending on all of us to get us through these tough times. Whether America is currently in a state of carnage or quickly plunging towards one, it really doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do next. What you do next. Find the common ground.

My Personal Independence Day (The Silver Lining I Was Looking For)

Today, I have gained my independence.

I am no longer the worshipper of a false idol I have known my entire life as the President of the United States of America. I am no longer enslaved by the shackles of an arrogant patriotism. I am no longer imprisoned by the imaginary walls of ideologically defined country borders and will not allow future, physical walls to block my path towards helping my earthly brothers or their paths to me. Today, I no longer allow citizenship to define my community or my extended family. I no longer limit my values to the subset of values included in the American Way. Today, I have gained the freedom to be a citizen of the world and no longer allow my government or the power brokers within the country of my birth to define who I am. Today, I am free.

Today, I will no longer shed my responsibility of making life better for those around me, complacent in the false belief that the government will do that for me. Today, I will no longer look up to an elected master to tell me who to love or who to hate; who to embrace as an ally or fear as an enemy. Today, I am free to decide those things on my own.

Although I fear the country within I live is not a better place than it was yesterday, I am consoled by the confidence that I am a better man today than I was yesterday, because today is my personal Independence Day.

The News

Every time I turn on the news,
I am saddened by stories of hate;
I am discouraged by death and destruction;
I am disheartened by signs of greed and struggles for power;
I am appalled by the lies and misrepresentations;
I am troubled by the troubles man causes other men.

The answer, however, is not to turn off the news;
The answer is not to look away.

No, the answer is to make our own news,
Make news of peace and news of love;
Make news of life and creation;
Make news of charity and of assistance;
Makes news of truths and acceptance;
Makes news of man unburdening the burdens of other men.

You do not right the wrongs in this world simply by refusing to witness the bad;
You right the wrongs by overpowering them with goodness.

The absence of doing bad is not enough.

We must make the good news impossible to ignore;
We must become the news by helping each other in newsworthy ways;

We must be creative with our love;
Magnanimous with our charity;
Spectacular with our assistance;
And unforgettable in our tolerance.

We must stand up and be recognized as the news people should hear.

Scales of Justice – Black Lives Matter

Rotary Installation Speech

I have a brother who traveled the path to heaven over 25 years ago.  While he blessed us with his presence in this existence he did so as a very gifted and talented young artist among other great traits that he possessed.

I remember, as a boy, Jimmy would set up his canvas and the tools of his talent in the basement of our home.  I would often watch the canvas transform from a blank slate, to lightly sketched shapes, to a smattering of paints and colors, to a masterful Monet-like scenery, Van Goh-like landscape or Rembrandt-like portrait and just marvel at its spectacle.  When finally it reached what I was sure was the point of completion, with envious pride, I would tell Jimmy just how wonderful I thought his creation was.  Jimmy would just stare at his art and, with annoyance at his stupid, younger brother, simply state, “It isn’t done.  This isn’t nearly finished.”  And he would mix some more colors, dip some more brushes and continue to paint.

Meanwhile, I would go back outside and play tackle the man with the ball with my friends, blow up the heads off my sister’s dolls with M-80s, do belly-flops in mud puddles and, inevitably, end up being chased by an angry, pancake-turner yielding mother determined not to spare the rod.  I would eventually, once again, seek the sanctity of our basement, which somehow seemed to serve as a miraculous safety zone from the wrath of angry parents.

I would peer over the shoulder of my brother and be amazed to discover that the painting I thought, just hours before, was as good of a painting as a painting could be, was, indeed, somehow, better.  I could not always tell exactly what he did, but the shapes would appear sharper, or the sky would have somehow come alive, or the flowers would have miraculously bloomed, or a sparkle would shine in the subject’s eye.  What I thought was perfection in the morning, was improved by the time the sun had set.  And, I would, once again, beam with pride for my brother and praise him with as much glory as a muddy, bloody, dirty, stinking, trouble maker of a young boy could.  And, Jimmy, once again, would look unsatisfied and announce, “It’s not done.”

Six years ago, Ralph Flick invited me to my first Midday Rotary meeting.  I was greeted at the front door by a sharply dressed and smiling Lorraine Green, my $14 was graciously accepted by a helpful Jean Smith and I immediately recognized the face of Scott Bush as a fellow Adventure Guides father in the group with our sons.  Laura stood behind the President’s podium dancing a Happy Dance and I marveled at the beauty of this picture and I thought what a wonderfully complete masterpiece this Rotary Club was.  But, I soon found out, it was not done.

Ralph Flick then improved upon the art by organizing the objects in the painting and explaining the intricacies of Rotary in a way that even I could understand; Scott Bush added a splash of spontaneity, humor and fun that brightened the images upon the canvas while losing a lot of weight in the process; Joe Urvina transitioned from a reluctant, nervous speaker to a confident and accomplished leader while teaching us more about ourselves through two truths and a lie, and the painting got better.  Mary Gorman added highlights of gratitude mixed with tears of happiness and empathy and the masterpiece continued to be improved.  And, Howard, throughout this past year, added all that stuff and things like that to whip us into shape and help us appreciate why it is good to do business with a Rotarian and the art got better, yet.

Now, it is my turn, and all I can do is marvel at the beauty of what I see.  Deep down inside I am proud of the masterpiece my brothers and sisters crafted right in front of my eyes and stand in awe of their talent, envious of their creativity.  I, however, am not an artist – but, I can certainly appreciate art and celebrate in its beauty.

So, I invite you to join me this year, in what I wish to make a Year of Celebration.  I think we, as a club, have earned the right to sit back a little bit, celebrate all that we have accomplished and marvel in this masterpiece we call Midday Rotary.  We should bask in the joy of the friendships we have forged; celebrate the good we have achieved; and be proud of the journey we have traveled together as a family of Rotarians; albeit, we may be a dysfunctional family, but we are family nonetheless.

Join me this year as we splash through mud puddles, somersault down hills of soft grass, and create mischief along the way, only to return each week to Anthony’s basement and marvel at the beauty of this masterpiece, celebrating the ever-improving art on what not so long ago was a blank canvas.

I will leave it up to those Presidents who follow behind me to once again improve upon the artistry of our club, but, for my year, I want to take the time to just … Celebrate, Celebrate, dance to the music.

A Letter to My Sons

A Letter to My Sons

First of all, to my real sons, I wish to thank you for never having put me into the situation to have the following conversation with you that I will now have with my hypothetical son:

Dear Son,

If you ever willingly, unwillingly or while under the influence of alcohol or any other substance, inflict harm, injury or any kind of injustice upon another individual or individuals I would first expect you to apologize for your actions and offer to do whatever is necessary to right your wrong and/or assist the person you injured in their recovery.

Secondly, I would expect you to own up to the responsibilities for your actions and accept the consequences resulting from such.

Under no circumstance would I expect you to lie about the events that took place.

Under no circumstance would I expect you to make up excuses for your actions.

Under no circumstance would I expect you to attempt to transfer blame for your actions, especially not to the victims themselves.

Under no circumstance would I expect you to try to defend yourself through the re-victimization of the individual you harmed in the first place in an attempt to avoid the consequences that typically follow the actions you are responsible for committing.  And, under no circumstance would I expect you to blame your lawyer for making the decision to do so.

Under no circumstance would I expect you to beg for leniency after ignoring the advice above and suffering a verdict unfavorable to you following inflicting even more injury upon your victim in the process of attempting to defend yourself through lies, excuses, transfer of blame and re-victimization of the individual you harmed in the original action.

And, I expect you to expect the same of me in your support;

I will not lie for you.

I will not make excuses for your actions.

I will not attempt to transfer blame, especially not to the victim(s).

I will not support a strategy of re-victimizing the victim.

I will not blame the lawyer for that strategy if you decide to do so.

And, I will not beg for leniency if you do not follow the advice above.

I do understand that, sometimes, people are accused of crimes they do not commit.  But, if your defense is not based on a foundation of truth, then you have no defense.

I do understand that, sometimes, people make mistakes.  But, we are responsible for the mistakes we make and what defines us as decent human beings is how we handle this responsibility.  There is a difference between explaining why something happened and making excuses for why something happened.  That difference is in accepting responsibility for what happened.  I expect you to always bridge that difference.

I expect this behavior from you under all circumstances; no matter how minor or how significant the injury; no matter how trivial or how severe the potential punishment.

No matter what, I will always love you – that is unconditional.  But, the degree to which I support you along the way will be influenced by the degree to which you live up to my expectations in how you handle the situation and respond to unfortunate outcomes.

We can, of course, make things a whole lot easier on ourselves by not performing acts that result in such severe penalties in the first place.  (And, once again, I would like to thank my real sons for taking this course in their magnificent and accomplished lives.)

Your loving father,

Dad

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Because I wrote this in response to a recent, high profile news story and the social networking response, I addressed this as a “Letter to My Sons”, but the same message applies to my daughter, as well.