I'm getting sick of hearing the chorus of... "it's not my war, no WMD's, Bush Lied, not in my name, give peace a chance, we should've tried diplomacy... "
How glorious for you dissenters? What a great plan... you get milk and honey without having to do a thing. Someone's gotta milk the cow. Don't complain about the way the cow got milked while you're drinking the milk. Don't gripe about the bees that lost their hive while you're eating their honey.
And you people that can't just stand up and say, "I hope America wins this war and all the terrorists die."... you've got some honey on your hands. Pick a team. You're watching the SuperBowl and you're saying, "Well, I see that my team committed a foul in the last game so maybe we deserve to lose."
Both teams can't win the SuperBowl. It's no different in this war on terror. Terrorist's idea of winning is for you to be dead. American idea of winning is all the people of this world have the freedom to elect their leaders and pursue life, liberty and happiness. Terrorist's idea of winning is for everyone but the terrorists to die. Not figuratively die... literally die. Doesn't make it too hard for me to choose which team I'm rooting for.
Hey, if the Atlanta Falcons win the SuperBowl all the Falcons fans are going to run around the world chopping off the heads of everyone who's not a Falcons fan. Or, if the Cleveland Browns win then the Browns fans will run around the world sharing their party favors. I guess I'll be cheering really hard for the Browns. How 'bout you? You a Falcon's fan?
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
The Rock Star and the Navy SEAL
My two little men have just about finished their second week of school at the new public school.
The oldest, my rock star, was very excited about the larger school because a larger audience means a larger number of adoring fans. To expand the rock star analogy, he went from playing the nightclubs to playing the stadiums.
The youngest, my Navy SEAL, was not so excited because this was a great unknown. He sees an undefined theater of operations and undetermined number of hostile targets that may be disguised as friendlies.
Good news is they both are liking it so far. The one with high expectations has been pleased to find that this crowd likes his newest work and he is every bit as loved and adored as he was at the old school. The one with the low expectations has been pleasantly surprised to find that he likes some of the kids in his class and they like him too. It's all good.
Life lessons learned: Men don't change with their environment. They choose who they are and how they will behave and they do so regardless of present company. Their identity is not tied to their surroundings. Their identity is tied to something deep inside them. They might not say it that way but I believe they've learned it.
Thank you God for my sons. Thank you for their excitement, their enthusiasm, their energy, their candor, their health, their little lives that I get to share. I am unworthy. Help me show You to them. Help me be You to them.
The oldest, my rock star, was very excited about the larger school because a larger audience means a larger number of adoring fans. To expand the rock star analogy, he went from playing the nightclubs to playing the stadiums.
The youngest, my Navy SEAL, was not so excited because this was a great unknown. He sees an undefined theater of operations and undetermined number of hostile targets that may be disguised as friendlies.
Good news is they both are liking it so far. The one with high expectations has been pleased to find that this crowd likes his newest work and he is every bit as loved and adored as he was at the old school. The one with the low expectations has been pleasantly surprised to find that he likes some of the kids in his class and they like him too. It's all good.
Life lessons learned: Men don't change with their environment. They choose who they are and how they will behave and they do so regardless of present company. Their identity is not tied to their surroundings. Their identity is tied to something deep inside them. They might not say it that way but I believe they've learned it.
Thank you God for my sons. Thank you for their excitement, their enthusiasm, their energy, their candor, their health, their little lives that I get to share. I am unworthy. Help me show You to them. Help me be You to them.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Peacetime in America
I read Joe Klein's piece in Time magazine this week. The title is The Danger of Yellow Ribbon Patriotism. He begins by laying out the differences between our military and the general population. He lauds the discipline and service of the military and contrasts that with the way the rest of us are living. Klein calls it the "perpetual American Mardi Gras." The point is that we aren't living like there's a war going on. We continue to spend everyday thinking about new cars and new clothes and the new flavor of cappuccino at Starbucks while young men and women are giving their lives in a desert country on the other side of the globe.
Klein then slips into the old familiar verse of "Bush failed" and it goes downhill from there. He mentions Cindy Sheehan and he glosses over her "naive politics" as he makes the point that Bush should be attending the military funerals and sharing the grief of the military community with the American public. Maybe so.
I was struck by two things in this article. First was the disparity between our soldiers and our civilians. Surely, one of the reasons that I have some insane, irrational desire to sign up and go overseas to fight for our nation is that I'd rather align myself with those men and women of the military than with the pouty, indulgent, children that comprise so much of America. Several soldiers coming back from Iraq made comments about how nothing over here has changed. One commander who had served in Iraq is quoted in the article saying, "I lost five lieutenants in a year. I collected body parts. I don't know how I'll ever get over that. And you just get the feeling that the rest of the country doesn't understand. They're not part of this. It's peacetime in America, and a few of us are at war."
Second was the gravity and beauty of the memorial services held for fallen soldiers in Iraq.
"There's no coffin, just the inverted rifle, boots and helmet of the fallen. We call the roll, up to the name of the missing trooper. We call his name: Specialist Doe. Then a second time: Specialist John Doe. A third time: Specialist John R. Doe. And then taps is played."
I agree with Klein in that we civilians, living comfortably stateside, should be somehow... engaged. We should be buying War Bonds or attending to the military families who've lost loved ones. We should be finding ways to serve our country and Bush should be calling us to it. We should be ashamed that our culture is so appropriately described by the words "perpetual American Mardi Gras."
Klein then slips into the old familiar verse of "Bush failed" and it goes downhill from there. He mentions Cindy Sheehan and he glosses over her "naive politics" as he makes the point that Bush should be attending the military funerals and sharing the grief of the military community with the American public. Maybe so.
I was struck by two things in this article. First was the disparity between our soldiers and our civilians. Surely, one of the reasons that I have some insane, irrational desire to sign up and go overseas to fight for our nation is that I'd rather align myself with those men and women of the military than with the pouty, indulgent, children that comprise so much of America. Several soldiers coming back from Iraq made comments about how nothing over here has changed. One commander who had served in Iraq is quoted in the article saying, "I lost five lieutenants in a year. I collected body parts. I don't know how I'll ever get over that. And you just get the feeling that the rest of the country doesn't understand. They're not part of this. It's peacetime in America, and a few of us are at war."
Second was the gravity and beauty of the memorial services held for fallen soldiers in Iraq.
"There's no coffin, just the inverted rifle, boots and helmet of the fallen. We call the roll, up to the name of the missing trooper. We call his name: Specialist Doe. Then a second time: Specialist John Doe. A third time: Specialist John R. Doe. And then taps is played."
I agree with Klein in that we civilians, living comfortably stateside, should be somehow... engaged. We should be buying War Bonds or attending to the military families who've lost loved ones. We should be finding ways to serve our country and Bush should be calling us to it. We should be ashamed that our culture is so appropriately described by the words "perpetual American Mardi Gras."
Monday, August 22, 2005
Cool, clear water
When an AC condensation drain backs up and overflows, a little bit of cool, clear water runs down the walls and into the concrete slab. It is absorbed by the carpet and the pad. It is absorbed by the sheetrock and the insulation in the walls. It is pulled through the concrete, under the tile, under the walls, into every possible space. Doesn't sound too bad... until you call to find out what it'll cost to clean it up.
A reputable cleaning service is here right now drying out my house. They've pulled up carpet, thrown away pad and set up all sorts of air movers (that's what you call a fan when you charge $25.00 a day for it) and a dehumidifier. Apparently cool, clear water is a really bad thing when it's under your carpet. Chances are the bill for all this work will come to something just less than my deductible so my insurance company will not have to pay a red cent and I'll have to pay a couple hundred thousand red cents.
Now, what have we learned? Don't let any water get in your house. Simple as that. When these guys leave I'm shutting off the water at the alley and building an outhouse and pumphouse and my boys are going to learn to fetch water like their grandparents did. Want a bath, son? Go get a five gallon bucket of water from the pumphouse, boil it on a fire in the backyard and bathe in a washtub on the back porch. Need to pee? Hit the outhouse, boys. Think of all the space we've wasted prior to now, with bathrooms, sinks, faucets... all unnecessary and just waiting to leak on the rest of my house.
Lesson number two: Carpet is just a really expensive sponge that is holding all sorts of nastiness. Pet hair, sand, mold, little boy dirt... and add water to that mix and you've got the recipe for a fungus that will multiply into the billions in a 24 hour period. So, I'm getting rid of the carpet too. I'm putting the vaccuum cleaner on eBay and we're gonna live on a bare concrete floor. Mops and brooms from now on.
At least, that's the plan that I'm going to deliver to the divine Mrs. L this evening when she's looking over the bill for the cleanup. Wish me luck.
A reputable cleaning service is here right now drying out my house. They've pulled up carpet, thrown away pad and set up all sorts of air movers (that's what you call a fan when you charge $25.00 a day for it) and a dehumidifier. Apparently cool, clear water is a really bad thing when it's under your carpet. Chances are the bill for all this work will come to something just less than my deductible so my insurance company will not have to pay a red cent and I'll have to pay a couple hundred thousand red cents.
Now, what have we learned? Don't let any water get in your house. Simple as that. When these guys leave I'm shutting off the water at the alley and building an outhouse and pumphouse and my boys are going to learn to fetch water like their grandparents did. Want a bath, son? Go get a five gallon bucket of water from the pumphouse, boil it on a fire in the backyard and bathe in a washtub on the back porch. Need to pee? Hit the outhouse, boys. Think of all the space we've wasted prior to now, with bathrooms, sinks, faucets... all unnecessary and just waiting to leak on the rest of my house.
Lesson number two: Carpet is just a really expensive sponge that is holding all sorts of nastiness. Pet hair, sand, mold, little boy dirt... and add water to that mix and you've got the recipe for a fungus that will multiply into the billions in a 24 hour period. So, I'm getting rid of the carpet too. I'm putting the vaccuum cleaner on eBay and we're gonna live on a bare concrete floor. Mops and brooms from now on.
At least, that's the plan that I'm going to deliver to the divine Mrs. L this evening when she's looking over the bill for the cleanup. Wish me luck.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Uncommon Valor Was A Common Virtue
A friend mentioned the name Ira Hayes this morning and I looked up the lyrics to the Johnny Cash song that I knew so well. I went on to read the stories of the battles at Iwo Jima and how Hayes and the others in that famous photograph fared.
Three of the six men in that photograph were dead within 21 days in the fighting that continued on that tiny island. One was hit by a mortar, another friendly fire and the third by a sniper. The other three were taken back to the states to promote the bond sales that funded the war. They were "wined and speeched and honored" and all three tried to tell the world that they were nothing but lucky... the heroes were buried in long rows of graves in the black sand of Iwo. Ira was heard muttering "my buddies, my buddies..." before he died, drunk, in an irrigation ditch on a reservation at the age of 32.
I'm embarassed to be part of a generation that is full of self promotion, where complaining is considered courageous and "victim-hood is a virtue." If you doubt that we've softened, imagine the reaction to losing 25,000 American soldiers in a month of fighting for 7.5 square miles of black ash and sand. There's no value left in being part of something bigger than our individual selves. There's no value left in serving the greater good.
I'm not a Marine and so I cannot and will not presume to salute those men who've fought and died for my freedom but I will mention their names with reverence.
Mike Strank of Pennsylvania
Harlon Block of Texas
Franklin Sousley of Ohio
Rene Gagnon of New Hampshire
John Bradley of Wisconsin
Ira Hayes of Arizona
May I live a life worthy of the freedom their lives bought for me.
Three of the six men in that photograph were dead within 21 days in the fighting that continued on that tiny island. One was hit by a mortar, another friendly fire and the third by a sniper. The other three were taken back to the states to promote the bond sales that funded the war. They were "wined and speeched and honored" and all three tried to tell the world that they were nothing but lucky... the heroes were buried in long rows of graves in the black sand of Iwo. Ira was heard muttering "my buddies, my buddies..." before he died, drunk, in an irrigation ditch on a reservation at the age of 32.
I'm embarassed to be part of a generation that is full of self promotion, where complaining is considered courageous and "victim-hood is a virtue." If you doubt that we've softened, imagine the reaction to losing 25,000 American soldiers in a month of fighting for 7.5 square miles of black ash and sand. There's no value left in being part of something bigger than our individual selves. There's no value left in serving the greater good.
I'm not a Marine and so I cannot and will not presume to salute those men who've fought and died for my freedom but I will mention their names with reverence.
Mike Strank of Pennsylvania
Harlon Block of Texas
Franklin Sousley of Ohio
Rene Gagnon of New Hampshire
John Bradley of Wisconsin
Ira Hayes of Arizona
May I live a life worthy of the freedom their lives bought for me.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Hide in plain sight
The killer that terrorized Wichita, Kansas and called himself BTK has now delivered his confession. He's plead guilty to 10 counts of murder. He's being sentenced this week.
What's most intriguing about this story is the absolute normality of this guy's life. We have an easier time swallowing the tattooed, satanic, drug using biker as a killer. But the Ted Bundy, the Dennis Rader, the next door neighbor, the guy we see at church dressed exactly like everyone else... that's much harder to accept. This guy's a killer? No way.
Imagine the compartmentalization that had to be going on in Dennis Rader's mind. How do you "act naturally" when you're at home with your wife and kids when you're planning to murder your neighbor? How do you kiss your kids good night when you carry the memory of killing kids their same ages? How do you put those twisted fantasies aside while you mow your yard, wash your car, do the dishes, pay the bills?
I see people sometimes and I think... "something's not right." I think what's scariest is that there are plenty of people who don't set off the internal alarms... and there really is something hiding inside them.
What's most intriguing about this story is the absolute normality of this guy's life. We have an easier time swallowing the tattooed, satanic, drug using biker as a killer. But the Ted Bundy, the Dennis Rader, the next door neighbor, the guy we see at church dressed exactly like everyone else... that's much harder to accept. This guy's a killer? No way.
Imagine the compartmentalization that had to be going on in Dennis Rader's mind. How do you "act naturally" when you're at home with your wife and kids when you're planning to murder your neighbor? How do you kiss your kids good night when you carry the memory of killing kids their same ages? How do you put those twisted fantasies aside while you mow your yard, wash your car, do the dishes, pay the bills?
I see people sometimes and I think... "something's not right." I think what's scariest is that there are plenty of people who don't set off the internal alarms... and there really is something hiding inside them.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
See America
Some people really hate business travel. They complain about the line at the rental car counter. They complain about the time it takes to go through the metal detector and the bag scanner. They complain about having to take off their shoes and belts and watches. They complain about the hotel. They complain about cramped airplane seating. They probably complain about all sorts of other things too it's just that I only encounter them when we are in the airport together and they are making stupid comments about the TSA security measures.
I don't really mind business travel. Sitting on an airplane next to a man or woman who should've bought two seats isn't my favorite thing to do but it's only an hour or two. Being "wanded" at the security checkpoint isn't bad if you imagine that you are the king of the world and the TSA guy is one of your loyal subjects, getting the wrinkles out of your royal clothing. Driving a rental car is no big deal either. Other than the time that the back seat was covered in dog hair... and then I just took the car right back and they gave me another one. Hotels are not bad... I just can't allow myself to think about what might have gone on in the room the night before.
I do miss my family when I'm traveling. My boys and my wife are really my three favorite people in the whole wide world but I'm not gone for weeks at a time. I'm usually out of town for a night or two, at worst a week and with cell phones and emails I'm able to talk to them each day. Plus, when I see something cool it gives me something to tell them about.
So, not much to love but not too terrible either. I have learned the way to make it all better. I try to learn the interesting facts about the state or area where I'm going. I try to get out of my hotel room and have a look at the city around me. I can almost always find an hour or two to just drive around the countryside and see what I can see. If I have to drive between cities I try not to take the same route twice. I look at the map and pick the scenic way if time allows.
I have watched farm league baseball games. I've shared a meal with a homeless man. I've stood at the feet of 2000 year old redwoods. I've driven through Amish country. I've eaten some five star meals and I've eaten some "greasy spoon" burgers and shakes. I've four wheeled in a rented Jeep Liberty in Houston and I've off roaded in a Taurus outside of Las Vegas. I've watched the sun set on the Pacific from Mt. Tamalpais. I've seen the winter in Iowa and the summer in New Mexico.
I remind myself of the vast diversity of our country and what a great freedom it is to be able to go see all of it. Get out of that hotel room... go see America.
I don't really mind business travel. Sitting on an airplane next to a man or woman who should've bought two seats isn't my favorite thing to do but it's only an hour or two. Being "wanded" at the security checkpoint isn't bad if you imagine that you are the king of the world and the TSA guy is one of your loyal subjects, getting the wrinkles out of your royal clothing. Driving a rental car is no big deal either. Other than the time that the back seat was covered in dog hair... and then I just took the car right back and they gave me another one. Hotels are not bad... I just can't allow myself to think about what might have gone on in the room the night before.
I do miss my family when I'm traveling. My boys and my wife are really my three favorite people in the whole wide world but I'm not gone for weeks at a time. I'm usually out of town for a night or two, at worst a week and with cell phones and emails I'm able to talk to them each day. Plus, when I see something cool it gives me something to tell them about.
So, not much to love but not too terrible either. I have learned the way to make it all better. I try to learn the interesting facts about the state or area where I'm going. I try to get out of my hotel room and have a look at the city around me. I can almost always find an hour or two to just drive around the countryside and see what I can see. If I have to drive between cities I try not to take the same route twice. I look at the map and pick the scenic way if time allows.
I have watched farm league baseball games. I've shared a meal with a homeless man. I've stood at the feet of 2000 year old redwoods. I've driven through Amish country. I've eaten some five star meals and I've eaten some "greasy spoon" burgers and shakes. I've four wheeled in a rented Jeep Liberty in Houston and I've off roaded in a Taurus outside of Las Vegas. I've watched the sun set on the Pacific from Mt. Tamalpais. I've seen the winter in Iowa and the summer in New Mexico.
I remind myself of the vast diversity of our country and what a great freedom it is to be able to go see all of it. Get out of that hotel room... go see America.
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