Let's Pretend

So let’s pretend for a few minutes. Pretend it’s Thursday. You rise as you always do and get ready for your day of work. You leave just as you always do, but today you seem to be particularly aware of just how many high school students leave the same time you do. You also notice that they all drive the same car - a Ford Mustang. You leave your neighborhood and start down the county two-lane road on your way to wherever. You switch on the radio.

Suddenly, a Mustang carrying two students passes you on your left and, as they do, the front wheels fall off and the car skids out of control, smashing into a utility pole. You immediately stop and rush back to the car only to find both students dead. You reach for your phone to call 911.

But 911 doesn’t answer. Because they are busy on other calls. It seems that at the same exact moment, 9 other Mustangs suddenly lost their front wheels and crashed, killing nearly 16 more people. Later that night, as you watch the evening news, you see the full impact of the carnage on the highway that morning. 18 young people - all students at your local high school - all killed in tragic car accidents. Involving the same car. Involving the same part failure.

You know the story doesn’t end here. Because there’s going to be an investigation into this apparent design flaw in the Ford Mustang. 10 cars don’t suddenly lose their front wheels, all at the same time. There MUST be a problem here. The NTSB declares that the issue is under investigation. People are cautioned.

And 10 weeks go by. And then, suddenly, in a town hundreds of miles from yours, on another beautiful Thursday, 10 more Mustangs lose their front wheels. And 15 more students - all from the same school - are killed.

You’re probably thinking the same thing I am - by now there would have been some sort of congressional action and the Ford Mustang would have been ordered off the road. In all likelihood, the chairman of Ford Motor Company would have either stepped down or been fired. Sales of Ford cars would plummet. And everyone would say “good riddance” to the damned death traps that were killing our students by the dozen every few weeks.

We just played “Let’s Pretend.” At least the car portion was pretend. The reality is that our students ARE being killed by the dozens every few weeks. By gun violence at school. Over and over we see the news. And over and over, our politicians offer there “thoughts and prayers.”

It’s time for more. Much more. You know I’m right - if the Ford Mustang was killing students in droves, there would be congressional action to eliminate the car and fix the problem. So here’s a novel idea - pretend guns are the aforementioned Mustang. And get off your ass and do something.

Four Square Yards

I went to the supermarket on Sunday, as I do most Sundays after church, to do a bit of grocery shopping. But this time, I had a small twist to add to my shopping experience. Since I’ve been really trying to be conscious of my own impact on the Earth, I decided to use some reusable tote bags instead of the ubiquitous plastic bags that are proliferating the Earth.

So there I was, in the checkout line, diligently trying to pack as many items into my cloth bags as the laws of physics would allow, when I looked down the line at the 15 other checkout stands, all packed with their Sunday shoppers and nearly all of them bagging away into their bright yellow Shop-Rite bags. I felt discouraged, somehow, as though what difference was it going to make that I was NOT using about 8 plastic bags while the rest of the world was just bagging away, completely oblivious to the ongoing problem of plastics in landfills?

It’s easy to start with great ambition and then quickly become discouraged. So many of us wake up each day with the thought that “today I will change the world” only to return home after a long day perhaps more discouraged about things than you were just 8 hours before.

And I realize that’s because changing the world can’t happen in 1 day. Or 12. Or 1,200 for that matter. Because changing the world is a damn big ambition. A worthy ambition, to be sure, but damn big. Perhaps, dare I say it, too big??

So I suggest we change our point of view. Not our ambition - just the scope of it. Try this: stand in one space in your room, your apartment, your home, your classroom. And imagine a yard stick extending 3 feet in front of you, 3 feet to the left, 3 feet to the right, 3 feet behind you. A square that is basically 4 square yards in total size. Roughly the size a little larger than a king size bed.

Then ask yourself - what can I do in this small space to make it better. To make this small space a better place on this Earth. Or a better place for my family. Or a better place for my students. Or my co-workers. Or my employees. What can I do to make this the best 4 square yards it can be.

When you’ve done that, move to another space and try the same exercise. Later in the day, or tomorrow, try it again someplace else. Try it outdoors. Or in a public space like a park. Anywhere where YOU, working independently, can make an improvement. No matter how small.

You see, while it doesn’t seem like much, little by little, you can make a difference. No, not on the whole word, not in one day, or one week or one month. But, if you tried this, say, three times a week, you’d make a difference in a measurable amount of space in a pretty short amount of time. Some of the changes might be long lasting, some just momentary or short-lived. But the think is, you’d be making a change. Making a difference. And you would succeed because YOU really can affect small spaces more readily than big spaces.

It’s sort of like my mother used to say about cleaning the house. Our house was rather large when we were growing up and with 4 kids there was always a lot of cleaning to do. And mom, being a stay at home mom, was the one who did it. All day. Every day.

Later, after my wife and I were married and had three kids of our own, we too had the big house and the constant need for cleaning. But we both worked, so it came down to spending most of Saturday cleaning the entire house. A full day, dusting, scrubbing, mopping. And the laundry - who knows how many loads, washing and drying and folding. And when it was all done, our house was clean, our clothes were clean but we were exhausted and we hadn’t even given a thought to dinner.

And yet somehow, my mother managed to keep the house as neat as a museum, kept on top of the laundry for four kids and a husband and cooked breakfast AND dinner every single day. And somehow she found time to watch TV with us, or play a game, or take us to practice or wherever. AND she did the shopping, back in the day when shopping involved trips to the supermarket, the butcher, the bakery, the deli - all without a car.

So one day I called her and asked her just how she did it? How did she manage to do all of that? Yes, I knew she didn’t have a job outside the house, but she was 100 times more productive than I was, with one more kid and a lot fewer conveniences.

Her answer? I did one thing at a time, one small thing, over and over. Every day. I spread out the work, and I found that I was able to get it all done and still be a mom. That was her secret. One small thing, every day. Maybe it was vacuum the carpets. Or clean the master bathroom. Or wash my sister’s laundry. She did one task at a time but spread them out over 7 days. It meant she was busy each day, BUT she also had time to do what made her happy, like spend time with us. Or cook a great meal. Or watch her soap operas!

She wasn’t changing the world. But she was teaching her four kids a strong work ethic, so that we could go out and do the same. And if I teach my three kids the same, her influence spreads far beyond our old family house.

So there I was, standing in the grocery line, with my cloth bags. And, looking back, I was managing my 4 square yards. I was making that space a bit better by cutting down on the plastics. And maybe, by watching me, someone who stood in the next aisle will bring their own cloth bags. And together we will start to make a difference.

Change the world? Big and ambitious. Change 4 square yards? Easy and manageable. Try it.

Again and again and again. Again?

So as I sit here looking at the headlines scattered across the kitchen table, I once again find myself at a loss for words to describe the horror of still another catastrophic school shooting. As I wrote nearly six years ago, following the Newtown tragedy, I still don't know how to reconcile the thought of a kid going into school, carrying his or her lunchbox and a backpack, full of plans for the day or the week  with having that same child wheeled out in a body bag.

I grew up during the era of the Vietnam war on television and, sadly, as I got older I began to understand that the stories you saw in the evening news, stories of attacks and initiatives and any other word for war, meant that somewhere somebody was going to die and come home in a casket with a flag. But it was a war, and both sides had guns and not that that makes anything right or better, it was a war and in war shooting happens and death happens and maybe someday it won't. And curiously enough, in a time of war, there are always ongoing negotiations to stop the war, stop the shooting and stop the dying.

But in this case, these are kids, going to school. And teachers, going to school which also happens to be work. And these are parents, saying goodbye to their kids for what they assume is 7 hours. Not forever.

But in this case, these kids, these teachers, these parents - they're not carrying guns or other devices of self defense. Because, for God's sake, they're GOING TO SCHOOL! They're not walking through the rice paddies of Viet Nam.

But here they are, just like those young men all those years ago, dying at the hands of someone wielding a weapon that just happens to be a million times more lethal than the lunchboxes and backpacks the students have.

And while this goes on, again and again and again (how many times this year alone?!?), where are the peace talks? Where are the negotiations to end the carnage? Where are the "concerned politicians" who so want to do something? Why in the hell are they doing NOTHING??

It's time for all of us to come the startling realization that our representatives in Washington should be just that - our REPRESENTATIVES! And if they're not representing you - regardless of party or political ideology - then they need to go. They need to be voted out. Because if the vast majority of Americans want something done, and nothing is done, are the people actually being represented??

I pray that I won't have to write the words "school shooting" again. But given our propensity to care more about "keeping up with the Kardashians" rather than pressuring our representatives to do the right thing, I sadly don't think it will be the last time.

For You

Einstein says time is relative,
never ending,
relentless.

But with you, time is frozen,
immobile,
eternal

And yet never enough.

Time passes like water
down a river,
on a journey to someplace.

Someplace, anyplace
but really no place
because that place
is empty

without you.

A Throwback Saturday Morning

Right now, at this exact minute, if you walked into my kitchen, you’d be hard pressed to determine whether it’s 2018 or 1968 (aside from this foreign “laptop typing device” that I’m sitting behind). I’m having a cup of fresh brewed coffee, reading a real newspaper - the type with ink on paper - and listening to classic pop on an actual AM radio. My television, which is switched off at the moment (a rarity it seems in 2018) has no cable attaching it to a mysterious “TV provider”, only a cable attaching it to an antenna that receives its signal for free from the wide open air, of all things.

My view out the window is one of woods and birds and grass with a small patch of dirty snow near what was once a white picket fence (still a fence, not quite white). The others are asleep and for now it’s only me with my little slice of the past.

I don’t think there’s a better way to spend a Saturday morning. Now if only there were some great old classic Saturday cartoons on somewhere. And maybe a bowl of Froot Loops!

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon

I was watching some documentary tonight on the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, which I realize makes me a Geek Royale. Anyway, the narrator was describing this researcher who was one of a handful of people who could read cuneiform who was primarily responsible for leading this research. At one point, she visits some museum in Britain where there are these giant Bas Relief sculptures that once lined the walls of this ancient king who lived hundreds of years before Christ. The reliefs depict daily life in the region, with men in chariots and other details.

Seeing these reliefs made me realize that these were rather permanent depictions of how life was over 2000 years ago. You could easily see the modes of transportation and the style of dress worn by everyday folks. Sculpted into rock, rock which has survived over 2000 years to stand where they do today, in a museum to be viewed by 21st century humans.

And then it occurred to me - what are we leaving behind that will have anywhere near the permanence of these Bas Relief sculptures? What tangible evidence are we going to leave behind for those who come 2000 years from now, looking to find out details of life in the high-tech 21st century. It would seem to me that almost all of what we have now exists on a bit of silicon on a chip in some device, powered by a battery that almost certainly won’t play 2000 years from now.

But those Bas Reliefs. They’ll still be in that museum in Britain, telling the tales of what is then a 4000 year old history - and leading one to wonder what happened to those who came after, those who lived the lives of luxury, those whose lives were so easy that they left nothing tangible behind. Including this blog.

Battle of the Network Stars?? I think not.

Some things get better with age. For instance, just one month ago we celebrated the 50th anniversary of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” by the Beatles. By many accounts, the best album of the rock era. The soundtrack to what became known as the “summer of love” in 1967. Newly remastered by Giles Martin, son of the legendary Beatles producer George Martin, the album sounds, by most accounts, like a brand new album. An amazing feat if ever there was one - an album 50 years old that still can stop many in their tracks.

But not all things get better with age. I just lost an entire hour of my life watching the “new” ABC show “Battle of the Network Stars”. This re-boot of what was must-see TV some 30 years ago could be, perhaps, the biggest waste of video tape to ever hit a major network. In the early 1980s, when the TV landscape was much simpler (3 networks, plus PBS and some local independents), ABC created this pseudo-athletic competition to fill the dead time during the summer and mid-winter, when the regular TV network series took a few weeks off.

At the time, ABC was able to truly recruit just what the title promised - TV stars! Henry Winkler, Ron Howard, Farrah Fawcett, Lee Majors, and many others from top-rated “current” TV series donned their short shorts and body-hugging swimsuits and participated in their own version of the TV Olympics. And the audiences loved it.

Tonight, what ABC put on was a complete unmitigated disaster. First, there were no “stars”. I mean, the most current person you might call a star was Dave Coulier, late of “Full House” and the Netflix reboot “Fuller House”. Lisa Welchel and Kim Fields of the “Facts of Life” made a return appearance, 34 years after their last appearance.

But it wasn’t just the lack of stars that made the show so bad. It was the actual production itself. In the original, you saw the events. I mean, the actual events. You saw the swimming. The kayaking. The relay races. And everything in between. Tonight, you saw a few of the events, with cuts to events that took place “earlier” and more commercials than any 60-minute show should ever have.

Overall, this is one of those “blasts from the past” that should have stayed just a fond memory. Skip the Battle and save 60 minutes a week. Which you can better spend listening to “Sgt. Pepper.”