The Bus Ride

What are we doing? Where is our reasoning?

Whenever the death penalty is discussed, the arguments are brought forward that an innocent person might be killed by mistake. Names like Stephen Truscott and Donald Marshall are mentioned. I share this concern, too.

If that is the only reason these people oppose the death penalty, then what do they say about what happened today?

An innocent bystander was stabbed repeatedly on a Greyhound bus in Portage La Prairie, Manitoba. There is no mistake who did it. The murderer hacked off the head and taunted the police with it.

I am not trying to argue the death penalty in this article. What I am trying to do is point out how we use hollow arguments to justify anything. Don’t tell me you don’t want the death penalty merely because a mistake might be made. What about the cases, like this one, where there can be no mistake?

Although the reason all of this happened is not known yet, people are saying that we should be spending more money on mental illness. Few seem to suggest the violence that we see in our media might be the cause of some of the ills of our society.

The film, Silence of the Lambs, about a sick person killing and eating people won several Academy Awards. I could create a list of several pages of violence that has been portrayed by “artists”. We even argue about everybody’s rights to produce this stuff, yet we scratch our heads in bewilderment that these things might actually be harmful to our society.

We are allowing our children to play video games that are far too violent. While filling in for a kindergarten teacher, the grade 8s paired up with them for computer buddies. As soon as I saw the 5-year-old shooting at a helicopter full of people, the monitor went off. The grade 8 student couldn’t grasp that this was not a healthy activity for the child. Guess what? Neither could his parents, because he said he played it all the time at home.

On one hand, we have people preaching that people must be responsible for their actions. On the other, pundits make their living explaining why somebody doing something is not entirely his fault. There are social/economic reasons. Maybe there was bad parenting. All of this may be true, but how does the situation get corrected?

In the meantime, there are parents somewhere trying to understand why their son was so brutally murdered by a stranger in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. No amount of making excuses for the murder can bring this young man back to life.

A Piece of Paper

I was driving to Toronto on Highway 401 a couple of days ago. For those of you who don’t know it, there are many cars on it. At one point there are sixteen lanes. In spite of all of these, traffic can still move very slowly.

Such was not the case. I was able to drive over 100 kilometres per hour. I was making great time.

Suddenly a piece of paper shot up into the air and did a delicate dance in front of me. It leapt for joy, spun around, dove down then ascended to the sky laughing as another car passed under it. It was living for the moment and not worrying about the fate that would surely eventually happen. Eventually it would crash to the earth and be flattened endlessly by tires.

That didn’t matter now. What was important was that it gathered up all of the energy around it to live for the moment.

I thought that my life is often like that piece of paper. There are times when I feel like my life is being carried by the currents around me. While I may have goals and objectives, I am often reacting to the circumstances that are dealt to me. In spite of all my desires and planning, a lot of life is accepting what comes my way.

Like that piece of paper, I want to channel everything into the joy of the moment.

I know one day I will die, but while I am here, I want to leap, spin, dive, fly and dance. I want to experience the fullness of life. I want to take large gulps of it, not sip elegantly and politely at it. At times there will seem to be no purpose to each brief episode, but if the purpose is live passionately, then that is enough.

Others may have difficulty understanding my outbursts, but like the piece of paper, riding the undulating current will be the thrill that others will miss. Unless they come along for the ride, they will have difficulty comprehending what it is like to soar.

It was a mere piece of paper, but it took a difficult situation and did something it wasn’t designed to do. Like it, I want to discover that my life can go through difficult times and accomplish the unthinkable.

Cottage Country

I spent a wonderful weekend with my pen pal and her family at Lake Rosseau.

The first highlight for them was spending time with my family. When we grew up, we were fighting all of the time. When my parents died, we had to decide what we would do with our family. Would we let it die a natural death or do something to keep it together?

We decided to hold an annual bowling tournament to commemorate the fact that my mother started bowling in her 70s and continued as long as she could. The result has been that through the years we have actually become very close. My family has become a very strong factor in my life and something that I am willing to share with anyone. I am proud to do so.

My guests enjoyed the experience of meeting everyone.

Second on the list was seeing the cottages at Lake Rosseau. Gone are days when people went to some rustic retreat to get away from it all. From what I saw, it looks as if they bring everything they have from the city. Most of them better than the new homes being built in St. Marys. Even the boathouses are exquisite. One of them had room for seven boats.

Many people might be envious. I am not. I can’t see the people sitting down at night and playing a friendly game of Scrabble. The satellite dishes pick up far too many television stations for some friendly, family interaction. I would doubt it there is a Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys book to be found in these mansions.

What we found unusual with almost all of these huge palaces was the fact that there didn’t seem to be anybody around enjoying them. Perhaps the kids are too busy playing video games or chatting on the Internet. The parents could be soaking in the hot tub.

Really, why go outside in the nature when you have every luxury know to civilization inside?

But give me the old-fashioned cottage any day. I love the old, creaky floors that get swept with a corn broom. I even have no problem with an outhouse.

It seems that the phrase “getting back to nature” is very unnatural these days.

Vacation

I am taking a few days of vacation at my brother's cottage on Lake Rosseau. I can't wait to get there.

Sandy

His real name was Alexander, but like a true Scot, he called himself Sandy. I had the privilege to meet him during the 1986 during the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh.

At that time I was working for the CBC. My job was to act as a vehicle dispatcher and he was one of my drivers.

The Commonwealth Games provided jobs for students like Sandy. A lassie by the name of Justine got a job as a secretary to one of the producers.

When Sandy met Justine, he was immediately smitten. It was pretty obvious. The only problem was that Justine had a boyfriend.

Every Canadian who came in contact with Sandy and knew about his crush on Justine couldn’t understand why she didn’t fancy him.

When they were together, you could see a great admiration for each other. Sandy had the knack of always being able to make Justine laugh. To all of us bystanders it seemed as if they were made for each other.

Something happened one day that made it even more apparent that fate was part of this relationship.

Justine came in one day and propped up a small teddy bear on her desk. She gushed at how her boyfriend had given it to her the night before. She shared this information with everyone, including Sandy. A sly smile appeared on his face.

The next morning, about fifteen teddy bears exactly like the one Justine had received were perched on her desk. They were identical to the one she had received a couple of days before. They were so alike that you couldn’t tell the original from its clones.

Justine came in and just gasped. She had no idea how the bears got there. Later Sandy came in and asked Justine how she liked the teddy bears he had given her.

Later I asked him where he got all the toys. Apparently he had a friend who was in the importing business and he had received a shipment exactly when Sandy needed a large supply of them.

Sandy seemed willing to move the world for Justine. He was a great guy.

I met him a year later. I had a group of senior citizen softball players touring Great Britain, so I got him to lend me his Scottish costume. It fit pretty well except for the shoes, which were too small, but I managed to squeeze my feet into them. Unfortunately, I have no idea where the photo of me in this outfit went. While I must have looked different, Sandy hadn’t changed. He told me that he and Justine were just friends and met occasionally for a drink.

I think of Sandy now and again and I wish the best for him. I can’t help but wonder why Justine was so blind to his kindness and affection. All I can think is that it is her loss, that is, unless she found somebody who cared about her with the depth that Sandy had for her. I trust that she has found somebody who loves her so wonderfully.

Often a love like this comes along only once in a lifetime. It can seem so easy that people often take it for granted and let it slip through their fingers.

Tourists to Canada

My penpal, her husband and her daughter have been in Canada for one week. I have been busy showing them around.

It is alway interesting to hear their impressions of my country.

I am happy that they find the people very pleasant and the countryside beautiful, but that is to be expected. I could have predicted these.

What is interesting are the differences that are not so obvious.

Karl made the comment today that Canadians must have good teeth. He noticed that there are signs for dentists everywhere. While we were driving around in the car, he made his point by pointing out every one he saw. Sure enough, it seemed every minute there was a sign for a dentist.

We head into Toronto tomorrow. I will be interested in hearing their comments about the big city.

Niagara Falls

It’s going to happen. I guarantee it.

I took my penpal and her family to Niagara Falls yesterday. At the side of the Horseshoe Falls is a terrace with a wall and a guardrail around it. The idea is that it is to protect people from falling into the water to a certain death.

What bothered me was that people are sitting on the guardrail or the wall. Often they are doing so with somebody a few metres away trying to get the perfect photo. They move and contort their bodies much like a gymnast. If they have a sudden lapse of concentration, they could tumble and that would be it.

Equally as disturbing was the lack of attention that some parents paid to their children. Many of them could easily slip between the guardrail and the wall.

I was talking to a couple of teens working at the hotdog stand nearby. They mentioned to me that my fears were not imaginary. Somebody slipped and fell into the brink last year.

As much as it would be tragic to the person who died, can you imagine the trauma it would create for the people who witnessed the event?

It reminds me of the great Karl Walenda who performed one too many high wire walks in his life, falling to his death in Puerto Rico in 1978. It only took one adverse set of circumstances to make what was something that was routine to turn into a tragedy.

I think of times when I have been careless driving my car, but I don’t think I would do something as crazy as sitting on a guardrail next to Niagara Falls. Somebody will fall and they will probably put up something that will lessen the experience of being right next to the powerful current. One’s person stupidity will ruin it for many others.

Why do people do such things? I ask this question of myself as much as anyone else. There are times when I make some decisions that make me shake my head after at how dumb it was. Sometimes we even do things knowing that they are dumb.

It reminds me when I was young. We used to have an old radio with an electromagnet on the speaker. When I touched it, I got a shock. However, I kept on touching it, wondering why I kept on getting a buzz.

In the meantime, I will be watching the news for what I feel is going to be inevitable, knowing that one person’s foolishness will affect many people.

Stay tuned

I have something to write, but it is late. I will post it tomorrow.

Differences

I know a few people who read my blog. After that, I haven’t a clue. In fact, I was talking to Rory from our town and she told me of a friend of hers who discovered this philosopher in St. Marys – me! I got quite a chuckle from that one. She may be reading this right now.

When I am writing this blog, I am putting my thoughts out there for all to see. I found out early in the game that no matter what I write, everyone will not agree with what I say.

Take for instance my article, The Mirror of Death. It is one of the first ones I wrote. If you haven’t read it yet, go the very beginning of my blog. It also appeared in a weekly newsletter sent out by Bob Proctor’s group. I always include my email address so people can reply directly to me. I received over 250 emails on the weekend after it was distributed. Every one of them told me how it helped them get through a rough moment – except one. She tried to tear a strip off me for writing something that seemed so cruel to her.

I have tackled other subjects that are more controversial that I know people don’t see the same way I do.

I learned long ago that if I spend my life trying to please everyone, I will be wasting my time.

What is important, though, is how we handle our differences. How do we treat each other when we disagree?

What I have learned is that it is important for the dignity of both persons to be preserved. If either one is lessened, then the difference has not been handled well. Everyone is entitled to his opinion, and that includes me.

So, do you disagree with some of my thoughts? Let’s get out a pot of tea, light some candles, speak softly to each other and discuss the issues. Let’s make the effort to explore our points of view. We both may learn something in the process; even if it is that understanding the other person is all we get from it.

1984

George Orwell wrote his famous book, 1984, in 1949. I read it in about 1970. It seemed pretty far-fetched when I read it. I remember smiling in satisfaction when 1984 actually came and went and life wasn’t at all like the book.

Fast forward to 2008.

In many cities, Big Brother is watching you. Security cameras are place on the street to monitor what is happening.

What amazes me most about today is the “Doublethink” that happens. Its definition is the act of holding two contradictory beliefs simultaneously, fervently believing both.

I see this a lot in peoples’ opinions about the media. You mention blatent sexuality on our television screens and they will tell you that the violence is worse, yet nothing seems to be done to curb it. It is increasing.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that the portrayal of violence and sex does influence our society in a bad way. If you doubt me, watch the women in many hip hop or rap videos. If you protest against this, you are met with those crying out that you are hurting artistic freedom. What happened to my artistic freedom and right to protest?

Some people have trouble eating meat because an animal is killed. Others have trouble supporting capital punishment because a life, which is not so innocent, is taken. Some of these same people will have no problem with somebody “choosing” to end a life of an unborn child merely because it is a girl. And these vegetarians committed to fighting against executing a criminal will feel fully justified with abortion for any reason including determining the sex of a child. Somehow the taking of a life is different when it is an unborn child. It’s OK, but please don’t kill a cow or a mass murderer.

To me it all comes down to this. You will believe whatever you want to believe to be true merely by believing it. You will be able to justify anything. Unfortunately, it appears to me that when you have no absolutes, you have absolutely nothing.

Love Never Fails

Our cat, Toby, is a big suck. You would have never have known it ten years ago. Even six years ago, he wasn’t so nice. We had another cat, Timmie, at that time and he was a bit of a bully. If it hadn’t been for our dog, Sarah, sticking up for Timmie, Toby would have had total domination.

First Sarah died, then Timmie. As time went on, Toby became more and more friendly. Why? Perhaps he had less competition and felt less threatened. Another reason was that we just kept loving this cat no matter what. As time went on, our love broke down his resistance.

As the saying goes, love never fails. Those are powerful words, the strongest being the word never.

Why does love never fail? I think that part of it is what the alternative does to you and not the other person. The other person may not respond to my love, but if my heart is filled with hate, what does that say about my life? Do I really want to walk around with all of this negative baggage or do I want to feel positive?

I remember trying to teach two cats in Alberta not to climb up on the screen door and wreck it. I would put them up on the screen and tap them gently to give them the idea that when they were on the screen, it would be uncomfortable. One of them got the idea quite clearly. The other one wasn’t very intelligent. When I put him on the screen and started tapping him, he started purring. Here I was making him feel uncomfortable and he was returning love. I couldn’t take it. I started sobbing.

I go back to my point of making sure your heart is filled with love instead of hate. If you want the best life you can have, do you want bitterness or happiness in your soul?

Doris

Meeting Doris for the first time is like a lightning storm on a hot summer evening. You have the choice of being afraid or remarking on the beauty of the experience, but you will never forget it.

What is so remarkable about this lady? She is the world’s number one hugger. The first time she met me, she had a hug for me. She has a hug for everyone. Her hugs are not ordinary, though. Each one is filled with love and meaning. They are not merely passed out like business cards at a meeting. Each one is more like a unique greeting card with your name on it.

Doris is special. She is what I sometimes call a hallelujah honey, but with a difference. I have met many women like this who are like chocolate Easter bunnies, sweet on the outside, but hollow on the inside. Doris is solid through and through. Her love gushes out from the inside and is difficult to resist. There is nothing phoney about her.

After the first hug, I tried to avoid Doris. Like a bat chasing mosquitoes with its sonar, she somehow found me cowering in a corner after church. “Good morning, John,” she chirped and gave me a hug. In spite of my best efforts, she always discovered me.

When you first start kneading bread dough, it is difficult, but eventually it breaks down and becomes smooth. In the same way, her hugs softened my resistance until I looked forward to them each week. It was as if each hug took away one hurt inside me. Gradually I succumbed to her love. More than that, her loved transformed me. Rather than being the hug receiver, I started being a hug giver. I have passed her gift on to others.

It has been years since I have seen Doris and her husband, Joe. I do know that if we meet again, there will be a hug for both of them. Doris preaches love. She preaches the best kind. Her love is not just something you merely talk about. It is something that is the very essence of her and is passed on with no expectations.

As Dusty Springfield sang, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” What the world needs now is more people like Doris.

What a Catcher!

Of all of the positions in baseball and softball, catcher is the one I love the best. It involves a lot more than just sitting behind the plate and catching the ball. You have to be thinking all of the time. A good catcher can make a big difference in the game.

In the amateur game, you have control over the pitch selection. The pitcher can reject your suggestion, but I usually am in sync with him. I rarely have a sign shaken off.

Warren Spahn, one of the great pitchers of all time, once said that hitting is timing and pitching is upsetting timing. The catcher is the conductor who orchestrates this performance. Do a good job and you are successful. A poor job often means the batter launches rockets.

Sounds simple, doesn’t it? It is a lot more complex than that. It is like chess on a playing field. Sometimes the strategies are obvious; other times they are subtler. You usually have to look for little cues. How close is the batter to the plate? How high are his hands? Does he take a full or a condensed swing? Your job is to analyse all of this data and come up with a pitch-by-pitch battle plan.

The job is not over yet. Having the proper mechanics is important. You have to have a good arm, be able to withstand the force of somebody trying to knock you over and be able to block balls in the ground effectively.

A catcher can have all of these elements, yet not be as effective as he can be. There are other things, little things, that can make all of the difference. It involves talking with people.

First, I make sure I have my pitcher focused on my glove. If he puts his mind on anything else, he can get in big trouble. He has to be zoned in.

I also talk to the umpire. I want to make him happy that I am with him. If I feel he has missed a pitch, I might gently ask him if I blocked his view in any way. Sometimes I will laugh and tell him that I really wanted that pitch, as long as it was close. I want the umpire to like me more than the other catcher. Will it affect his calls? Let’s just say that it can’t hurt.

Finally, I chat with the batter. The topic doesn’t really matter. It can be the weather, mosquitoes or federal elections. The idea is to take a bit of the focus off the batter’s concentration. How do I know this works? There are times when I have lost my concentration, resulting in my hitting the ball poorly.

This reminds me of the story when Hank Aaron went up to the plate. Since he was using a wooden bat, the label should have been facing him, but it wasn’t. The catcher made him aware of this. His response was, “I didn’t come up here to read.” He didn’t want anything to break his concentration.

We can apply this lesson to reaching our goals. Isn’t it often the little things that make the difference between failure and success? For one moment we didn’t pay attention and all was lost.

How much do you want to succeed? Is it enough that you will pursue your goal passionately, not allowing anything to take your eye off the prize?

The Science Lesson

How did human life start on this planet? Was it purely by cells combining with other cells and the strong combinations surviving? Was there a divine hand in the mix? Were the earth and all its life created in six days? Everyone has a viewpoint. I decided to try something different with my two science classes in Drayton Valley, Alberta.

I brought into my classroom texts that supported Darwin’s evolutionary theory. I also brought in creationists’ material.

I told the students that we were going to have a debate. They were to look at the information and decide which side they were going to take. I invited them to go anywhere they wanted to get more facts, including talking to their parents. Unfortunately, the option of browsing the Web did not exist in 1979.

Like ants in a colony, they devoured the material, furiously writing notes. Not only did they look at the side they supported, they filtered through the opposition’s information, looking for holes in their arguments.

The day of the debate came. The students argued politely, yet with great emotion. Most of the time, I listened, however, I asked questions of both sides. The questions were difficult and comprised of the main arguments both sides use when trying to weaken the other’s position.

At the end of the class, I asked the students what they had learned. Cheryl said something that was profound. She said, “I found that people can really get upset and angry about something that they can’t prove 100%.”

I learned that it is sometimes better to give people all of the facts and let them find out for themselves what they want to believe. My students had the opportunity to examine every argument. At the end of the day, regardless of the side they chose, they found that their position needed more research and work. I’m sure that has happened for some of them.

I also believe that they acquired the thirst for knowledge. Rather than being forced to drink the elixir I brewed, they were invited to the laboratory of life to come up with their own.

Three Michigan Ladies

They came into our lives like a jack-in-the-box. We didn’t know them, and then suddenly they were there. We love them. We look forward to their next visit with great anticipation.

They are three widows from Michigan who have visited our bed and breakfast twice. What makes them so special?

All three speak in glowing terms of their former husbands. Although not there in person, they still seem to commune with their departed spouses.

All are devout Catholics, not the send-in-two-boxtops type. They take their faith seriously. Here is the key, though. Their beliefs bring them joy. They support each other. Each one is very different, yet their spirits reach out to each other and others. You can’t help but be caught up in their positive enthusiasm.

They haven’t just come to stay with us. They have openly shared their lives with us, including their feelings on many issues and situations. It seems as if we have known them for years. They are comfortable with themselves and are natural.

They teach me by example to be joyful and spread it everywhere. I can focus on what is wrong with the world or I can look at what is around me and marvel how it all fits together.

They have certainly blessed my life. I trust that I have reciprocated that blessing.

Tolerance

"Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."
Saint Francis of Assisi

I have a problem. At times I don’t think I am very wise. I often don’t know the difference of whether I can change things or not. It is not as simple as it seems.

The problem is that people have different tolerance levels. In our quest to have harmony in the world, something has to give. Everybody can’t have his or her own way.

For example, I can sit in a car with somebody and she will find it too hot, while I might find it too cold. What is the best solution? Adding more heat will only make it too hot for one person, while opening the windows will make it uncomfortably cold for the other. How are both satisfied? Which one is supposed to tolerate the other?

In the days of smoking being permitted everywhere, people had to tolerate something for years until they fought back. It was a long fight that took lots of courage. Fortunately, medical evidence helped clinch the argument.

I had an interesting discussion with somebody this morning. It was about beer tents and amplified sound at night. In St. Marys, where I live, it appears we are creating more and more events involving music that goes well into the night until one in the morning.

Personally, I have no problem tolerating these kinds of events a few times of the year until 11 pm. I really don’t want any outdoor event to continue until 1 am, however, I am willing to tolerate it a couple of times a year.

The person on the other side of the discussion suggested that we have to be more tolerant to the people who want these events.

The problem is if more and more groups want to have similar events. When does it become intolerable? That depends, doesn’t it? What I find unacceptable may be desirable to the next person. How do we decide? When do the partygoers tolerate my point of view and find a solution to satisfy me?

You might suggest a simple vote on the matter. Not a bad idea, but I have found the second part of the St. Francis of Assisi quote appropriate here. I know that people often lack the courage to speak out against something they can’t tolerate. To do so often involves having your character mocked by your opponents. You may even risk threats and violence. They accept unwillingly something they can’t tolerate, sometimes becoming very bitter and unhappy in the process.

An example of my confusion of what to tolerate is some of the Pride weeks in various Canadian cities. Gays parade down the streets exhibiting behaviour I and many others, I believe, wouldn’t tolerate if it were heterosexuals doing the same thing. Yet we are expected to embrace it.

I am even more confused by the conflicting images of these parades being an event for the whole family and the hedonistic images I see in the media. However, we better not speak out against this, otherwise we will be called homophobic. I don’t believe I am homophobic. I certainly don’t have a fear of homosexuality. I just don’t embrace the thought of people parading around semi-naked promoting sexuality and handing out condoms to small children, regardless of their preference in the gender of their partner. It’s just that I haven’t heard of a parade of heterosexuals doing this.

In a similar vein, blacks can use the “N” word, but whites can’t; yet we turn around and preach that everyone is created equal. It’s funny that on the Black Entertainment Television Network, blacks have often referred to white people as honkies, not exactly a kind remark, yet is not this word derogatory as well?

Abortion is another issue where there is very little middle ground. How can people at either end of the spectrum tolerate the opinion of the other side?

So, who makes the rules of what we tolerate and what we don’t tolerate? How do we as a society come to some consensus? Is it the group or person who shoves the most or has the most power? Maybe is it the person who has the most influence or money? Or does everyone do what he or she wants and expects that his or her actions will be tolerated? Maybe it’s time to go to the Northern Ontario wilderness and become a hermit.

My viewpoint is that fear has gripped many people and they are not serene, but accept what they might, indeed, be able to change. Like me, they are clouded on the issues and lack the wisdom to know the difference. However, there are some serious lobby groups out there who seem willing to crush anyone who dares oppose their point of view.

I would love to hear St. Francis’s speak now to a world where his voice would be one of thousands sharing the same stage, but differing in the message. In today’s onslaught of opinions, it is sometimes very difficult to have the wisdom to know the difference.

One might suggest that we should reflect on what St. Francis says and pray to God for this wisdom. Sounds great! It seems that even God is giving different messages to everyone, too. Just look at what is happening in many of the Christian churches. There seems to be a justification for every point of view. Viewpoints that have been valid for centuries are now seen in a new light.

So, I pray a new prayer. I ask God to teach me how to apply the words of St. Francis to the current world and to magnify the meaning of what he says so I can understand better.

Heritage Festival

Today was the main day for the St. Marys Heritage Festival. Each year is seems to get bigger and better. New and more events are added. For me it was much better than any other year for another reason.

This year we had two kids, Henry and Harriet, staying at our bed and breakfast with their parents. I also invited a former colleague, Beth, and her daughter and two grandchildren. That made the total four kids. That made all the difference.

It’s wonderful when you are allowed the privilege of looking at the world through a child’s eyes. We had eight of them.

Sometimes it isn’t the big things that amaze you. Something as each kid taking turns trying out our hammock is a big adventure. Watching them play with pure joy with our dogs in the backyard is refreshing.

Henry came up to me with a cherry in his mouth and asked where he could plant the seed, fully confident that in a few years there will be a tree full of fruit. Faith like that is infectious.

Then came the fireworks at night. Seeing the explosions lighting up their delighted faces was special.

Knowing that I was a part of creating a special day for these two families made all of the difference. Maybe that’s it. Through my hospitality, I created a spark that lit up the lives of these people. In return I was treated to the fireworks that their joy emitted.

All and all, it was a very satisfying day.

The Technology Olympics

We’re just a few short weeks away from the Olympics. A lot of attention will be on performance enhancing drugs. There are other issues that give some countries and individuals advantages that have nothing to do with steroids and everything to do with technology.

Take, for instance, the new swimsuits that Speedo has developed. They are state of the art and fit the athletes perfectly. Since they have been introduced, swimmers using them have seen their times drop dramatically. New world records have been set. Will every athlete have the opportunity to use one of these new suits?

I saw a documentary on the Australian swim team. They have built a special swimming pool with glass sides so the performance can be captured on video and the efficiency monitored by computer. The members get feedback on their technique that nobody else in the world has access to.

A few years ago, the cycling world was caught off guard by a new spoke design where the weight shifted towards the perimeter as the bicycle went faster. Another innovation was wheel covers that cut down on the wind resistance. Teardrop helmets did the same. When things like this happen, the performance of an individual athlete may not determine the outcome. Access to the technology me be the difference between a gold medal and none.

Some bobsledding teams have major automakers improving their sleds. Some of the poorer nations buy the used sleds that have been tossed to the side to make way for the new ones.

Skiing is another sport where some countries seem to get the technological advances before others.

What I find interesting is that the International Olympic Committee seems to turn a blind eye to performances enhanced by technology, unlike their position on drugs.

Another factor in the success of some countries is the money they put aside for athlete development. Countries reward performance in different ways. For some there is very little reward. For example, Australia used to spend, and probably still does, far more on its athletes than Canada, even though it has a smaller population. There are certainly the haves and the have nots when funding is concerned.

What you end up with is a system where there are often many other factors in the result than the athlete’s performance. In spite of this, sometimes you end up with somebody like Britain’s Daly Thompson, who won two gold medals at the Olympics in 1980 and 1984. What is remarkable is that he was his own coach and did everything pretty much on his own.

You know something is funny when India, a country with over one billion people has won only seventeen Olympic medals ever, eleven of them in field hockey. Australia with its current population of just over twenty million has won 386.

Rising High

There is nothing like a good old country gospel song. Here is one that I composed many years ago. I have the tune in my head, but I don't know how to write music.

Are you feeling lonely,
As if your life is going to end?
Your spirits can be lifted.
Do not give up, my friend.
It’s when your always feeling down,
That’s when you’re going to fall.
Just look up to the heavens
And rise above it all.

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Or is it disappointment
That really makes you sad?
Does fortune frown upon you,
And makes the good turn bad?
Well at the very moment that
You’re up against the wall.
Just look up to the heavens,
And rise above it all.

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Now, when you’re up in heaven,
And your life on earth is done.
You know that life eternal
Will have really just begun.
And when the Father says, “My son,
I heard your every call,
When you’d look up to the heavens,
And rise above it all.”

Sing, rising high, rising high.
The storm clouds have moved over.
I’m reaching for the sky.
Yesterday has come and gone,
But the best has yet to come,
And I am sure to get there
If I keep pressing on.

Our Father

As a kid, I used to go to Sunday school at the nearest Baptist church. I didn’t go to church. With all of the energy I had, that meant sitting still for an hour and there was no way I could do that. Anyway, at Sunday school I could ask questions. I did – lots of them.

I remember filling in the lesson manuals they gave us. Some of the questions were so obvious in their intent. One asked what you would do if your brother hit you. The choices were answers like: forgive him, pray for him, tell a parent, interspersed with get back at him and hit him. Let’s just say that some of my answers were slightly different than the other kids.

It used to bug me when some of the students would give the “churchy” answers for the teacher when I knew their heart was much different away from the class.

Once in awhile we used to say The Lord’s Prayer, which begins with the words, Our Father. I remember explaining to my Sunday school teacher that I had trouble saying these words. I would have rather said, “Our Jim,” or “Our Fred.” The concept of a father to me was somebody who left our home every weekend. I didn’t want the love of somebody who left me all of the time.

My teacher gently explained to me that when we said the words, Our Father, it meant the perfect father. My reply was that I had no idea what a perfect father would be like. I only knew the one I had.

Through the years I observed my brothers and other men being parents. Some did better than others, but I became more aware of what a father could be like. Since I have never been a father, I still don’t have first-hand knowledge. I think I have a pretty good handle on it, though. Here is what I have learned:
1. A good father tells you like it is. His intent is to build you up, not to tear you down, but your life has to be built on reality. That means that the building must be done to code, which may mean getting rid of shoddy work. He is honest.
2. A good father talks the talk and walks the talk, too. You can trust the person you see every day is the same one everybody does. You can count on a good father. His life is an example for you to see.
3. A good father shows his love to you through his words and actions. Merely saying, “I love you,” isn’t enough.
4. A good father wants to be with you and has an interest in your life.
5. A good father is not trying to be your best friend. He is trying to be your father. That might mean opposing you strongly when he knows you are doing something that is not in your best interest.
6. A good father is honourable. He honours you. He honours your family. He honours his wife.
7. A good father seems to know when to let go and when to hold on. When you fall, he helps by showing you how to get up. He usually doesn’t just get you standing up again.
8. A good father builds a relationship with his children. He doesn’t just “have” them.

There’s my list, but you might want to leave a comment on some of your insights on being a good father. You may be helping others, so please comment or add to what I have written.

As a teacher, I often think of my students. Some of them don’t have dads or moms. Others have fathers who are poor role models. I trust that they will discover some of the things I have.