A man on a forum I frequently post on asked, how to cope with the loss of a loved one. It reminds me that I never wrote about any of the people in my life who have passed away. Here are some thoughts:
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Coping with the loss of a loved one can be tough.
Some stories from my life. I think I've managed to cope very well and bring closure but I also think I've been very fortunate in this regard as you may see when reading this.
I should start by saying, as an atheist I don't believe in an afterlife. As a result, I don't believe people have gone to a better place but I do believe suffering can come to an end which is a good thing, of course. Also, all of the people in my life who have passed away have been older and have lived full, exciting and wonderful lives. I look at those people's passing as a transition and seeing them die, while very very sad, was not a tragedy. I don't honestly know how I would deal with the death of a small child.
Years ago, I was talking to my grandmother on the phone while she was in the hospital. She had been in for a few weeks and it was too far for me to drive just to visit so I called. Also, she was in the hospital for something non-terminal so we had no reason to expect her to die and yet, a week later, she had passed away from complications. I remember quite fondly that conversation we had on the 'phone 'cause we talked about everything for a couple of hours.
When I went to her funeral, I refused to view her body in the casket. That wasn't the memory I wanted of my beloved grandmother. The only blemish was all my family members who kept trying to get me to go in there and view the body rather than let me grieve in my own fashion and hold to the memories I preferred over seeing her in death. I didn't let it happen.
To this day, I don't have a memory of her in death, only in life. I can still picture her sitting in the living room on quiet evenings reading as she sat in her recliner, just a frail woman but with so much life in her eyes. Or working in the kitchen or chatting with her about politics and the crap hole this country has fallen into or any other of dozens and dozens of memories.
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A year later, her husband, my grandfather was in the hospital and while it wasn't deemed terminal, it was rather serious. We went to visit him in person, not because we were afraid he was going to die right off but because we needed to see him.
When we got there and began chatting with him, it was readily apparent that he was not himself. Not sick, just not his usual garrulous, engaging, charming self. What I mean is, his mind was preoccupied. Somehow, the conversation turned to Grandma. It was like turning on a light switch. He opened up and for about an hour, we talked about nothing but her. When the conversation reached the time of her passing the previous year the conversation sputtered out again.
I said, "You miss Grandma, don't you?"
He replied, "Yeah, I really do."
I told him, "You have nothing holding you here. Go be with her."
He just nodded. I continued for another moment, "We'll miss you but we want you to be happy." Mind you, as I said earlier, I don't believe in an afterlife, but I knew he did and it was obviously comforting to him to have permission from SOMEbody to go ahead and move on from life.
We hugged him and told him goodbye and drove home.
A week later, he gathered his four adult children around him, said goodbye to them and passed away. He died with a smile on his face in their company. I contemplated my relationship with him with a smile on my face. I didn't go to his funeral. Why would I? I have spectacular memories of him.
--------------
2007 was a shitty year for us.
A very close friend of ours was diagnosed with breast cancer and after battling it for a little over a year, in May of '07, she passed away. She died at home in the arms of her loving husband. She was too young to die but she went with grace and dignity and beauty. If there was ever a classy way to die, she did it.
Once again, though, we had visited her a month prior and had the privilege of being able to say goodbye. By that time, she knew. We all knew she was going to die soon. We went and said the most heartfelt goodbye ever. There were a lot of tears because we knew we weren't going to see each other again. We left heartbroken but knowing that she had lived a life to be envied.
When she died the following month, we went to the funeral but since she had been cremated, there was no need to avoid a casket. We went to be supportive to her husband, also our very good friend (and in the throes of a battle with cancer himself) and to her children.
--------------------------
Thanksgiving of 2007 rolled around and my wife's grandmother was visiting for the holiday. She just didn't travel well and spent most of the week not feeling well. She was 94 years old and had had a great life too. A hard life, but she felt that she had lived it to the fullest. She spent most of the time sleeping while she was here. She had some medical issues which we were able to help her with but she was just dang tired.
We didn't necessarily anticipate that she was going to pass away any time soon but we felt it was probably going to be a moderate surprise in the next year or so. We told her not necessarily goodbye but we did let her know that we loved her dearly and it had always been a pleasure to know her. She made it clear that she wanted to pass away and we told her that if she did, we would miss her but that it was okay for her to go.
I think that was comforting to her. She seemed to relax a lot more then.
She went home and about a week later, we made sure we got my wife's brother up there to visit her. He came away having said goodbye and thanking us for letting him know so he could fly out and talk to her one last time. He told us that he felt she was going to pass soon. A couple of days later, she did pass away. Again, her life was a life we all celebrated.
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Christmas of 2007, a few days before the actual holiday, our friend battling cancer and whose wife had passed in May was admitted to the hospital. We didn't know it right off but it would be his last time and while we had hopes of him doing okay, the doctors kept saying that his systems were shutting down. As the days progressed, his prognosis was worse and worse. We went to visit him. He was nearly a carbon-copy of my grandfather: very much missing his late wife.
As we visited with him over a three-day period of time, the doctors kept saying that his systems were continuing to shut down and that there was nothing that could be done. He was weak and could barely move from the bed to the bathroom. More than once, I had to assist my friend with his movements and that was the easy part.
Saying goodbye and leaving him there with his family was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But we were able to chat over those few days about all of our memories, memories of his late wife and of all the things we had done together over the past few years. To this day, I feel that I have closure.
He passed away the day after Christmas with his loved ones surrounding him.
----------------
I don't know why I tell those stories. I don't feel that I need the therapy of writing it out but I do feel that it has the potential to be comforting to others.
I have complete closure for the few deaths I've encountered in my life. My perspective is that death is merely a final step. If life has been lived to its fullest, there is no great tragedy. Life is beautiful and while saying goodbye in person has been my greatest good fortune with regard to death, I think that it's appropriate to say goodbye. If one doesn't have the opportunity to do so in person, then after the fact is also very good.
Reflecting and talking about the beauties of the person is good too. When people avoided the subject with me, it was painful. When I was able to have a friend listen to me speak my thoughts, that was the best thing for me. Again, I was fortunate to have people in my life who were willing to listen to my thoughts and it brought closure quite easily.
------------------------------
I rambled a lot up there. I hope it was worthwhile. If you can, please take the time to say goodbye to your loved one even if it's been a while. It has meaning and it can help in ways you'll only understand afterward.
My best,
--Wag--
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Why did you choose THAT belief?
It occurred to me a few days ago that most people don't even understand why they believe the way they do. Of course, it doesn't cause me any personal concern and yet, I wonder just what it is that makes people believe what they do. I'm not just talking about religion, though that is a huge part of it. Politics, historical information, biographical information about famous people, the kinds of cars people think are the best. . . . You name it. Nearly every belief to which people cling is pretty much just there.
Of course, many of us have very clear reasons why we believe a certain thing and yet, for many of our other beliefs, we may have no clue why we believe as we do.
I just read a comment recently which said that most people adhere to the same religion of their geography for their entire life. That means, of course, that your religion, first of all, is determined by the surroundings in which you were raised and that you are more likely than not, never going to change your religion throughout your life. That doesn't mean you won't change sects within a religion. Baptists become Methodists on occasion but they're still essentially Christian.
Or how many people do you know still buy Chevy's because that's what Daddy always bought? Funny how people are. Or they're Democrats because Mom and Dad and Uncle Bob are all Democrats. It's why bad politicians get re-elected year after year after year after year and it's why term limits don't pass. Ever. People don't really want change, that's for sure.
Einstein once said, "Insanity is when you keep doing the same ol' thing but you expect different results." Or something like that. Yup. If you keep having car trouble, maybe it's time to switch to a Ford.
Or if you're unhappy, switch to Buddhism. Or vote Republican. I don't know. But don't keep doing the same ol' thing.
At the very least, challenge your beliefs in an honest way (difficult to do) and see what happens. You might be surprised.
--Wag--
Of course, many of us have very clear reasons why we believe a certain thing and yet, for many of our other beliefs, we may have no clue why we believe as we do.
I just read a comment recently which said that most people adhere to the same religion of their geography for their entire life. That means, of course, that your religion, first of all, is determined by the surroundings in which you were raised and that you are more likely than not, never going to change your religion throughout your life. That doesn't mean you won't change sects within a religion. Baptists become Methodists on occasion but they're still essentially Christian.
Or how many people do you know still buy Chevy's because that's what Daddy always bought? Funny how people are. Or they're Democrats because Mom and Dad and Uncle Bob are all Democrats. It's why bad politicians get re-elected year after year after year after year and it's why term limits don't pass. Ever. People don't really want change, that's for sure.
Einstein once said, "Insanity is when you keep doing the same ol' thing but you expect different results." Or something like that. Yup. If you keep having car trouble, maybe it's time to switch to a Ford.
Or if you're unhappy, switch to Buddhism. Or vote Republican. I don't know. But don't keep doing the same ol' thing.
At the very least, challenge your beliefs in an honest way (difficult to do) and see what happens. You might be surprised.
--Wag--
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Problems of Philosophy
Just finished reading this book. My comments:
The Problems of Philosophy by Bertrand Russell
rating: 5 of 5 stars
Outstanding book. I admit, I don't understand it all but it's becoming more clear and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. The dialogue on thought processes, formation of belief and the determination of truth is highly enlightening. Thinking in abstract is such a critical part of understanding this particular book. I don't have a lot of experience with philosophy but I suspect that such is true of most such tomes.
Will post further updates!
--Wag--
Update: Finished reading this book yesterday. It leaves me feeling like I've been further enlightened and of having had my mind expanded. It was an effort for me to read this because, as I mentioned above, I don't have much experience with philosophy. Yet, it has expanded my horizons.
Don't get me wrong. It did not give me a list of answers to the tough questions of life, the universe and myself, but it has greatly expanded my perception of all of these things. I don't feel, necessarily, that I'm suddenly a better person because of it, either, but I do feel that I've been given ideas and thoughts on how to become that better person.
--Wag--
View all my reviews.
The Problems of Philosophy by Bertrand RussellMy review
rating: 5 of 5 stars
Outstanding book. I admit, I don't understand it all but it's becoming more clear and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. The dialogue on thought processes, formation of belief and the determination of truth is highly enlightening. Thinking in abstract is such a critical part of understanding this particular book. I don't have a lot of experience with philosophy but I suspect that such is true of most such tomes.
Will post further updates!
--Wag--
Update: Finished reading this book yesterday. It leaves me feeling like I've been further enlightened and of having had my mind expanded. It was an effort for me to read this because, as I mentioned above, I don't have much experience with philosophy. Yet, it has expanded my horizons.
Don't get me wrong. It did not give me a list of answers to the tough questions of life, the universe and myself, but it has greatly expanded my perception of all of these things. I don't feel, necessarily, that I'm suddenly a better person because of it, either, but I do feel that I've been given ideas and thoughts on how to become that better person.
--Wag--
View all my reviews.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Cookin' with Wag
Check out my new blog!
Cookin' With Wag
I posted the best stuff first so it's at the bottom. Enjoy!
--Wag--
Cookin' With Wag
I posted the best stuff first so it's at the bottom. Enjoy!
--Wag--
Book Readers introduction
As mentioned in my prior post, I put up a couple of introductions to new groups this morning.
Here's the second one.
--------------------------------
I posted a LONG introduction on the motorcycle board a moment ago. I won't bore you with that same intro. Suffice it to say, I'm looking forward to the discussion and commentary of this board. Looks like some good people and discussion here!
Probably the only good thing my parents ever did was instill a love of books within me. My grandmother on my father's side was a big boost too. One of the very few worthwhile things my dad ever did was read to us as kids but he never just read a book to us. Somehow, he brought them to life. He was no great actor, I'm sure, but to him, books were not just meant to be read to the kids. They were meant to be dramatized. Scary books became terrifying. Love stories made us cry. Dick and Jane were real people. We wanted to know what the giant octopus was going to do to the sailors in the boat. We couldn't wait to hear if the troll had billy goat gruff for lunch.
A blanket to hide under or a tissue to cry in was required equipment whenever dad read a story to us. I don't have kids but when I read to nieces or nephews, I try to do the same thing. I'm not that good at it but I've learned something very very important: The kids don't care. They ALWAYS love it, no matter how badly I do the story. Yes, in the mind of a child, it brings a story to life.
You can picture the graphic: A book is opened and out comes a parade of knights in shining armor, spacemen, creatures, faraway lands with snow-covered mountains and lost mines all clamoring for your attention and giving you the best of worlds both real and imagined.
Yeah. You know you've been there before. In front of the fireplace, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and a cuppa hot comfort. Lost in a book.
Until you have to pee again. :-)
As I've grown up, my love for books has grown more and more and more. I still read fantasies and sci-fi and still love them dearly. Books like Lord of the Rings (30 plus readings to date), Dune, Aztec, Dragonriders of Pern and others of their peers. Lately, I've started reading more non-fiction and find that there is just as much thrill as there ever was in the fiction. Biographies of Lincoln and Einstein, histories of New Mexico, discussions of the flaws of philosophy, essays on religion and morality and truth and fiction, histories of tragic world events.
I read with a pencil. A pencil allows me to talk to a book. If you're ever at my house and you see one of my books, you'll see that I write in the margins a LOT. A pencil allows me to become a part of my books and my books to become a part of me. What better way to own my books than to write in them and converse with them so I remember them better?
Yeah, I love to read. As I look through some of the discussion here on this forum, it's obvious that there are a lot of other like-minded people here. I hope we can all have fun together!
--Wag--
Here's the second one.
--------------------------------
I posted a LONG introduction on the motorcycle board a moment ago. I won't bore you with that same intro. Suffice it to say, I'm looking forward to the discussion and commentary of this board. Looks like some good people and discussion here!
Probably the only good thing my parents ever did was instill a love of books within me. My grandmother on my father's side was a big boost too. One of the very few worthwhile things my dad ever did was read to us as kids but he never just read a book to us. Somehow, he brought them to life. He was no great actor, I'm sure, but to him, books were not just meant to be read to the kids. They were meant to be dramatized. Scary books became terrifying. Love stories made us cry. Dick and Jane were real people. We wanted to know what the giant octopus was going to do to the sailors in the boat. We couldn't wait to hear if the troll had billy goat gruff for lunch.
A blanket to hide under or a tissue to cry in was required equipment whenever dad read a story to us. I don't have kids but when I read to nieces or nephews, I try to do the same thing. I'm not that good at it but I've learned something very very important: The kids don't care. They ALWAYS love it, no matter how badly I do the story. Yes, in the mind of a child, it brings a story to life.
You can picture the graphic: A book is opened and out comes a parade of knights in shining armor, spacemen, creatures, faraway lands with snow-covered mountains and lost mines all clamoring for your attention and giving you the best of worlds both real and imagined.
Yeah. You know you've been there before. In front of the fireplace, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket and a cuppa hot comfort. Lost in a book.
Until you have to pee again. :-)
As I've grown up, my love for books has grown more and more and more. I still read fantasies and sci-fi and still love them dearly. Books like Lord of the Rings (30 plus readings to date), Dune, Aztec, Dragonriders of Pern and others of their peers. Lately, I've started reading more non-fiction and find that there is just as much thrill as there ever was in the fiction. Biographies of Lincoln and Einstein, histories of New Mexico, discussions of the flaws of philosophy, essays on religion and morality and truth and fiction, histories of tragic world events.
I read with a pencil. A pencil allows me to talk to a book. If you're ever at my house and you see one of my books, you'll see that I write in the margins a LOT. A pencil allows me to become a part of my books and my books to become a part of me. What better way to own my books than to write in them and converse with them so I remember them better?
Yeah, I love to read. As I look through some of the discussion here on this forum, it's obvious that there are a lot of other like-minded people here. I hope we can all have fun together!
--Wag--
Biker introduction
I posted an introduction of myself to a new local biker group this morning. It tells a bit about me that I thought would be appropriate here. Another intro to a local book group will follow in a moment.
Here we go.
-------------------------
Hello, everyone. K. invited me to check out the group and consider joining up. Thank you, K. Very much appreciate the thought.
It was a close call, whether or not to join. For the most part, it has to do with the fact that I already prowl around four different motorcycle forums, a gun forum, a book forum and wish I had time for several others in which I've participated over the last couple of years. It just takes time to be a worthwhile participant in such a forum, that's all! I don't do too many things halfway and when I do, it's guilt-trip time! Unfortunately, I have to pick and choose. I hope I can contribute here in a worthwhile way.
In my profile, I said my interests are something like, piano, motorcycles, books and guns. If you ever figure that one out, let me know. I'm still working on it. I should say, those are my primary interests. If something catches my eye, I'll dabble in it for a while to see if it sticks.
I've been riding motorcycles of various flavors for 35 years, give or take a year or two. I don't recall how old I was when a buddy let me try to ride his motorcycle. I couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 years old. I got on it and he said, "Pull in the clutch." I pulled it in. He said, "Kick start it." I kick started it. He said, "Give it some gas." I gave it some gas. He said, "Now, let go of the clutch!"
I let go of the clutch.
In an instant, I was on the ground, the motorcycle was 20 feet away on its side. The kicker was not that he was mad or that I was hurt (I wasn't) or that the bike was damaged (It was, slightly). The kicker was that there were about six of my friends standing around at the time, watching. One or two of them nearly got tagged by the runaway bike. Try to live that down over the years!
I was hooked. Naturally.
"Dad, can I have a bike," I asked a couple of days later.
"Sure, son. Save up the money and I'll help you buy one. In fact, I'll pay for half of it."
"Really?"
"Sure, son. What kind of bike do you want?"
"I want one like Ron Harris has."
My dad went a little pale and he lowered his newspaper to stare me down. It was that decidedly un-fatherly stare that let's you know that what's about to be said next is the gospel truth, you aren't going to be given a chance to debate the truth of it and if you do, you're going to learn the truth through the seat of your pants 'cause you were too stupid to learn it through the other end of your anatomy.
"You mean the motorcycle?"
"Yeah, Dad." It was difficult to put any excitement back into my voice because "the look" had already answered my original request. Dad put his paper back up to reading position and I couldn't see his face any more as he ended the conversation with the atomic bomb:
"No, son, you can't have a motorcycle. You'll kill yourself with it."
I love that movie, "A Christmas Story." You can see why. You also understand, if you know the movie, that the surest way to make a kid want something is to tell him he can't have it. In fact, with the exception of books, most or all of my interests today have stemmed from the stern denials of my parents. I spent days trying to figure out the best way to dramatically end my life in such a way that my parents would agonize forever over how badly they had treated me. Good grief, Charlie Brown, I mean Ralphie, I mean Wag!! LMAO
I wanted a motorcycle so bad that for years, I was in pain and suffering. Especially since I had to watch ALL of my peers since they ALL had motorcycles. Ron was not really a friend after I wrecked his bike in that glorious tenth of a second. He sure wasn't going to let me ride his bike any more. A couple of years later, his family moved and I never saw them again.
Another kid moved to our school and he and his family had LOTS of motorcycles and they were the newest and bestest of the day. I had to sneak in my bike riding because, of course, my abusive father and mother would've literally killed me if I had been caught riding a motorcycle. I had an uncle with an old beat up Yamaha (I think) which my dad would let us ride from time to time because we were being "supervised" by my uncle, as my father thought. But my buddy had a great RM125 and and an RM80 among others and we would sneak in rides as often as possible. Our secret, somehow, never leaked.
My bosom buddy didn't necessarily tell me that his bike was my bike but he acted like it and let me ride whenever he could.
My family moved halfway across the country when I was between my junior and senior year and that ended my bike riding days. Sad, too, because we moved to the hill country of Missouri and the riding there would have been perfect. But the hunting was great too! I wasn't allowed to have a gun but was allowed to borrow grandad's 20 guage for hunting squirrels and birds of various kinds. Just couldn't have one of my own. Dammit. Oh, well. Guess what I started buying lots of as soon as I moved out and could afford it?
Before that, however, the moment I could afford it, I bought a CB400. Mostly, I bought the motorcycle so I could commute without having to take the bus. The freedom was exhilarating! It was my first ever motorcycle, of course. A few months later, a hit and run driver took me out as he ran a red light. Bastid. I mostly recovered in a couple months from relatively minor injuries.
Back on the bus. It was about two years later that I bought a 750 Shadow. Very much like the Magna of the time, not at all like the Shadow of today. I rode it for a year or so, but it developed some expensive repair needs that I didn't have the equipment or the money to solve. So, I sold it to a guy who had the willingness and the wherewithal to deal with it's issues. A couple years after that, I bought an 1100 Katana and absolutely loved it.
It had been bored out to a 1260 and had the engine blueprinted, a full system exhaust and airbox mod and a couple other things, I don't recall. It was keeping up with the 1100 Gixxer race bikes of the day and my world was complete! I kept that bike for about two years and then sold it to my sister's brother. I don't think she was all that happy about it. Took the proceeds and bought a piano to resume work as a musician. Different story there for a different time.
I went 12 years without a bike and regretted every moment of it. Every time I saw a motorcycle on the road, my heart nearly broke in two. But money was tight and it just wasn't feasible. It would have been one thing if I HAD to ride, but I didn't so I waited for the right opportunity. In truth, I really thought I'd never ride again. In the meantime, I kept up with the other important things in my life but the hole that was left in my heart just wouldn't heal up.
Finally, at the end of 2004, I finally got a bonus which made it possible to start shopping around. I found a 2003 Hayabusa for sale with only 4,000 miles on it and some custom mods. I didn't even know what I was buying, really, I just liked the sound of the bike when the sales guy started it up!
Sold!
Now that Busa has 50,000+ miles on it and will likely get another 50K in short order. I can only hope!
There are more details to the story but I'm sure they will get filled in over time.
Looking forward to meeting some of you I don't know and refreshing other acquaintances. Cheers!
--Wag--
Here we go.
-------------------------
Hello, everyone. K. invited me to check out the group and consider joining up. Thank you, K. Very much appreciate the thought.
It was a close call, whether or not to join. For the most part, it has to do with the fact that I already prowl around four different motorcycle forums, a gun forum, a book forum and wish I had time for several others in which I've participated over the last couple of years. It just takes time to be a worthwhile participant in such a forum, that's all! I don't do too many things halfway and when I do, it's guilt-trip time! Unfortunately, I have to pick and choose. I hope I can contribute here in a worthwhile way.
In my profile, I said my interests are something like, piano, motorcycles, books and guns. If you ever figure that one out, let me know. I'm still working on it. I should say, those are my primary interests. If something catches my eye, I'll dabble in it for a while to see if it sticks.
I've been riding motorcycles of various flavors for 35 years, give or take a year or two. I don't recall how old I was when a buddy let me try to ride his motorcycle. I couldn't have been more than 9 or 10 years old. I got on it and he said, "Pull in the clutch." I pulled it in. He said, "Kick start it." I kick started it. He said, "Give it some gas." I gave it some gas. He said, "Now, let go of the clutch!"
I let go of the clutch.
In an instant, I was on the ground, the motorcycle was 20 feet away on its side. The kicker was not that he was mad or that I was hurt (I wasn't) or that the bike was damaged (It was, slightly). The kicker was that there were about six of my friends standing around at the time, watching. One or two of them nearly got tagged by the runaway bike. Try to live that down over the years!
I was hooked. Naturally.
"Dad, can I have a bike," I asked a couple of days later.
"Sure, son. Save up the money and I'll help you buy one. In fact, I'll pay for half of it."
"Really?"
"Sure, son. What kind of bike do you want?"
"I want one like Ron Harris has."
My dad went a little pale and he lowered his newspaper to stare me down. It was that decidedly un-fatherly stare that let's you know that what's about to be said next is the gospel truth, you aren't going to be given a chance to debate the truth of it and if you do, you're going to learn the truth through the seat of your pants 'cause you were too stupid to learn it through the other end of your anatomy.
"You mean the motorcycle?"
"Yeah, Dad." It was difficult to put any excitement back into my voice because "the look" had already answered my original request. Dad put his paper back up to reading position and I couldn't see his face any more as he ended the conversation with the atomic bomb:
"No, son, you can't have a motorcycle. You'll kill yourself with it."
I love that movie, "A Christmas Story." You can see why. You also understand, if you know the movie, that the surest way to make a kid want something is to tell him he can't have it. In fact, with the exception of books, most or all of my interests today have stemmed from the stern denials of my parents. I spent days trying to figure out the best way to dramatically end my life in such a way that my parents would agonize forever over how badly they had treated me. Good grief, Charlie Brown, I mean Ralphie, I mean Wag!! LMAO
I wanted a motorcycle so bad that for years, I was in pain and suffering. Especially since I had to watch ALL of my peers since they ALL had motorcycles. Ron was not really a friend after I wrecked his bike in that glorious tenth of a second. He sure wasn't going to let me ride his bike any more. A couple of years later, his family moved and I never saw them again.
Another kid moved to our school and he and his family had LOTS of motorcycles and they were the newest and bestest of the day. I had to sneak in my bike riding because, of course, my abusive father and mother would've literally killed me if I had been caught riding a motorcycle. I had an uncle with an old beat up Yamaha (I think) which my dad would let us ride from time to time because we were being "supervised" by my uncle, as my father thought. But my buddy had a great RM125 and and an RM80 among others and we would sneak in rides as often as possible. Our secret, somehow, never leaked.
My bosom buddy didn't necessarily tell me that his bike was my bike but he acted like it and let me ride whenever he could.
My family moved halfway across the country when I was between my junior and senior year and that ended my bike riding days. Sad, too, because we moved to the hill country of Missouri and the riding there would have been perfect. But the hunting was great too! I wasn't allowed to have a gun but was allowed to borrow grandad's 20 guage for hunting squirrels and birds of various kinds. Just couldn't have one of my own. Dammit. Oh, well. Guess what I started buying lots of as soon as I moved out and could afford it?
Before that, however, the moment I could afford it, I bought a CB400. Mostly, I bought the motorcycle so I could commute without having to take the bus. The freedom was exhilarating! It was my first ever motorcycle, of course. A few months later, a hit and run driver took me out as he ran a red light. Bastid. I mostly recovered in a couple months from relatively minor injuries.
Back on the bus. It was about two years later that I bought a 750 Shadow. Very much like the Magna of the time, not at all like the Shadow of today. I rode it for a year or so, but it developed some expensive repair needs that I didn't have the equipment or the money to solve. So, I sold it to a guy who had the willingness and the wherewithal to deal with it's issues. A couple years after that, I bought an 1100 Katana and absolutely loved it.
It had been bored out to a 1260 and had the engine blueprinted, a full system exhaust and airbox mod and a couple other things, I don't recall. It was keeping up with the 1100 Gixxer race bikes of the day and my world was complete! I kept that bike for about two years and then sold it to my sister's brother. I don't think she was all that happy about it. Took the proceeds and bought a piano to resume work as a musician. Different story there for a different time.
I went 12 years without a bike and regretted every moment of it. Every time I saw a motorcycle on the road, my heart nearly broke in two. But money was tight and it just wasn't feasible. It would have been one thing if I HAD to ride, but I didn't so I waited for the right opportunity. In truth, I really thought I'd never ride again. In the meantime, I kept up with the other important things in my life but the hole that was left in my heart just wouldn't heal up.
Finally, at the end of 2004, I finally got a bonus which made it possible to start shopping around. I found a 2003 Hayabusa for sale with only 4,000 miles on it and some custom mods. I didn't even know what I was buying, really, I just liked the sound of the bike when the sales guy started it up!
Sold!
Now that Busa has 50,000+ miles on it and will likely get another 50K in short order. I can only hope!
There are more details to the story but I'm sure they will get filled in over time.
Looking forward to meeting some of you I don't know and refreshing other acquaintances. Cheers!
--Wag--
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Book Review
The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz
The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, A Toltec Wisdom Book by Don Miguel Ruiz
rating: 4 of 5 stars
I like this book a great deal. At the risk of fulfilling a prophecy of the book, let me first make a disclaimer or two.
1. It is not the end-all solution to all the world's problems.
2. The presentation of the first few pages is a bit off-putting to those who are realists such as myself.
Having said that, however, it's easy to read past the "uncomfortable" bits and glean some very good, very helpful and best of all, very motivational thoughts. The book "feels" good, if you will.
I thought The Four Agreements tended to suggest that we quash all emotion but I also think that likely wasn't the true intent of Mr. Ruiz. His approach makes it a bit difficult to tell for certain except for one very quick sentence. My opinion, regardless, is that emotion is an essential part of our being and it is required of us to be fully human. Therefore, it should not be quashed It is, however, important to master how we express our emotions when we are beset by them.
It should also be mentioned that it's not possible to understand the agreements by reading the flyleaf. Oh, no! You have to read the book in order to fully understand the full scope and intent of it, especially as the agreements relate to oneself. For example, it's important to be impeccable with your word, the first agreement. Not only to others but to yourself. It's hinted at in the flyleaf but you have to read the book to get the full depth of what it means to be impeccable with yourself, too.
This is a book about kick-starting thought processes. It's a book about re-thinking why you believe what you believe. Did you choose your beliefs? I feel you did, even if you did it unconsciously. Do you know why you chose your beliefs? If you did it unconsciously, you may not know why. You should find out. If you just accepted your beliefs as they were spoon fed to you by your parents or a religious leader, perhaps you believe blindly. Maybe you're okay with that but I believe everyone should exert some introspection and make a determination as to why.
Doing so will do one of two (or many) things:
1. It will affirm your current faith and drive you to a long life of fulfilling those beliefs with greater passion and ever greater satisfaction, without the snobbishness which comes from those who believe dogmatically and unthinkingly
or
2. It will set you on a path of self-discovery and personal growth, driving you to a long life of self-fulfillment and confidence, knowing that it is important to believe in the idea of discovering new things whenever possible, throughout the rest of your life.
I can see that it would be easy to become dogmatic about The Four Agreements or Mr. Ruiz's other works. My feeling, however, is that we can benefit the most by using this kind of writing as a launching pad for a lifetime of continuous self-introspection, discovery and refinement of belief and thought.
--Wag--
View all my reviews.
The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom, A Toltec Wisdom Book by Don Miguel RuizMy review
rating: 4 of 5 stars
I like this book a great deal. At the risk of fulfilling a prophecy of the book, let me first make a disclaimer or two.
1. It is not the end-all solution to all the world's problems.
2. The presentation of the first few pages is a bit off-putting to those who are realists such as myself.
Having said that, however, it's easy to read past the "uncomfortable" bits and glean some very good, very helpful and best of all, very motivational thoughts. The book "feels" good, if you will.
I thought The Four Agreements tended to suggest that we quash all emotion but I also think that likely wasn't the true intent of Mr. Ruiz. His approach makes it a bit difficult to tell for certain except for one very quick sentence. My opinion, regardless, is that emotion is an essential part of our being and it is required of us to be fully human. Therefore, it should not be quashed It is, however, important to master how we express our emotions when we are beset by them.
It should also be mentioned that it's not possible to understand the agreements by reading the flyleaf. Oh, no! You have to read the book in order to fully understand the full scope and intent of it, especially as the agreements relate to oneself. For example, it's important to be impeccable with your word, the first agreement. Not only to others but to yourself. It's hinted at in the flyleaf but you have to read the book to get the full depth of what it means to be impeccable with yourself, too.
This is a book about kick-starting thought processes. It's a book about re-thinking why you believe what you believe. Did you choose your beliefs? I feel you did, even if you did it unconsciously. Do you know why you chose your beliefs? If you did it unconsciously, you may not know why. You should find out. If you just accepted your beliefs as they were spoon fed to you by your parents or a religious leader, perhaps you believe blindly. Maybe you're okay with that but I believe everyone should exert some introspection and make a determination as to why.
Doing so will do one of two (or many) things:
1. It will affirm your current faith and drive you to a long life of fulfilling those beliefs with greater passion and ever greater satisfaction, without the snobbishness which comes from those who believe dogmatically and unthinkingly
or
2. It will set you on a path of self-discovery and personal growth, driving you to a long life of self-fulfillment and confidence, knowing that it is important to believe in the idea of discovering new things whenever possible, throughout the rest of your life.
I can see that it would be easy to become dogmatic about The Four Agreements or Mr. Ruiz's other works. My feeling, however, is that we can benefit the most by using this kind of writing as a launching pad for a lifetime of continuous self-introspection, discovery and refinement of belief and thought.
--Wag--
View all my reviews.
Memoirs of Don and Emily - Part 3
Most of my free time was spent with Grandpa. Grandma and I got along swimmingly, of course, but Grandpa and I had a lot more in common with each other. As I spent time with him, I realized just how tough his life had been. Grandma didn't get into that kind of discussion with me but Granddad told me much about her life as well and I came to know that they had not had an easy life in any sense of the word.
I sometimes think about how they saw the world change around them. I don't recall the exact years of their births but seem to recall they were born early enough to know the pain and suffering of the Great Depression. As a result, they knew the need for hard work, whether it be physical or mental. They clawed their way through most of their lives with a minimum of the physical necessities. Whatever they had was valuable and important and luxury? Puh-leeze! They simply didn't have any.
Their most valuable possessions after their religion was their education.
Based on some VERY personal conversations I had with both Grandma and Grandpa, I won't discuss their religious beliefs here.
As for their educations, they felt that above all other things, this was the most valuable possession they owned. I came to realize that it was true. With their educations, they were able to rise above their surroundings. The people surrounding them and the circumstances surrounding them. With education, they moved past the suffering of the Depression and of poor circumstances and essentially lifted themselves up by their bootstraps. Anyone else out there ever build their own house brick by brick? I know some have but very very few.
Education, to them, was critical. I should mention that it didn't just mean that they had a sheepskin on the wall, though they both had that as well. Grandpa in particular was the kind of man who, if he wanted to learn how to do something, would ask, study, research and do whatever it took to find out how to do what he wanted. He demonstrated how education can frequently be obtained outside the walls of institutional learning. Often, that wasn't good enough and he found it well within his capacity to add creativity and inventiveness and make it better thah what had been originally conceived in his mind or the minds of others. Hence, his ability to build a house from the ground up, grow every plant known to man, keep his home and yard in good repair and generally, make his life more and more comfortable as he moved through life.
Interestingly enough, even though I never knew any of the details of their finances, they lived quite conservatively and never to excess. Grandpa drove the same ol' beat up pickup truck for as many years as I could remember, before and after my stay with them. Grandma drove the same ol' Pontiac that she had when I was a little kid. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't think I ever saw either of them with a new car. Seems like they must have bought a new car after their bad accident a few years after my departure but I don't recall that I ever saw it. Amazing, though, to think that they valued thier possessions enough to make something like that last for 20 years, give or take.
I think it's notable that they took very good care of their furniture, too. It seems that most of what they owned they had had for a long, long, LONG time. It was so well cared for, it seemed, that it could be considered only slightly used but I know it had been around a while. One thing is certain, their conservativism made it possible to have a very comfortable retirement. Some of that came from their pensions but much of it also came from their apparent habit of saving and watching their spending very closely.
Midway through my stay with them, Grandpa bought a computer. To this day, I'm not 100% sure what his original motivations were but I do know that it was a boon to me. I didn't have to use the manual typewriter for term papers any more! Grandpa diligently taught himself to use the computer and I did likewise. Sometimes, I would stay up until 4:00am on a weekend, just learning how to do what I wanted to do with it. I made every effort to make sure I didn't take too much of Grandpa's time on the computer and even though he never said anything to me about it, in hindsight, I wonder if he ever felt any frustration at how much time I was spending on it. Grandpa did use that computer, though he tended to use it more as a glorified typewriter and expressed a significant degree of frustration with it. Still, he learned, I taught him as much as I could and he learned well.
Amazingly, he was, as I hinted above, the kind of man who could learn throughout his life. Even though later on he had to carry around a stack of note cards to keep in touch with what he wanted to do, he could learn new things quite readily. The computer was one of them and in spite of his frustrations, he adapted to it well. After several years, however, he finally gave it up and went back to writing letters by hand. I wasn't personally offended, of course, but I felt that it was a bit of a step backward. Still, it was always good to get a letter from Grandpa or Grandma in their own handwriting. Grandma didn't eve learn to use the computer and I never knew why. She just used her typewriter and signed in her own hand.
I should mention, those of you who are descendants of Don and Emily have all of that innate intelligence they had. Don't deny it, you know you do!
Well, I started out to write more about some of the philosophical conversations I had with Grandpa but I think I'll hold on to that for next time!
--Wag--
I sometimes think about how they saw the world change around them. I don't recall the exact years of their births but seem to recall they were born early enough to know the pain and suffering of the Great Depression. As a result, they knew the need for hard work, whether it be physical or mental. They clawed their way through most of their lives with a minimum of the physical necessities. Whatever they had was valuable and important and luxury? Puh-leeze! They simply didn't have any.
Their most valuable possessions after their religion was their education.
Based on some VERY personal conversations I had with both Grandma and Grandpa, I won't discuss their religious beliefs here.
As for their educations, they felt that above all other things, this was the most valuable possession they owned. I came to realize that it was true. With their educations, they were able to rise above their surroundings. The people surrounding them and the circumstances surrounding them. With education, they moved past the suffering of the Depression and of poor circumstances and essentially lifted themselves up by their bootstraps. Anyone else out there ever build their own house brick by brick? I know some have but very very few.
Education, to them, was critical. I should mention that it didn't just mean that they had a sheepskin on the wall, though they both had that as well. Grandpa in particular was the kind of man who, if he wanted to learn how to do something, would ask, study, research and do whatever it took to find out how to do what he wanted. He demonstrated how education can frequently be obtained outside the walls of institutional learning. Often, that wasn't good enough and he found it well within his capacity to add creativity and inventiveness and make it better thah what had been originally conceived in his mind or the minds of others. Hence, his ability to build a house from the ground up, grow every plant known to man, keep his home and yard in good repair and generally, make his life more and more comfortable as he moved through life.
Interestingly enough, even though I never knew any of the details of their finances, they lived quite conservatively and never to excess. Grandpa drove the same ol' beat up pickup truck for as many years as I could remember, before and after my stay with them. Grandma drove the same ol' Pontiac that she had when I was a little kid. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't think I ever saw either of them with a new car. Seems like they must have bought a new car after their bad accident a few years after my departure but I don't recall that I ever saw it. Amazing, though, to think that they valued thier possessions enough to make something like that last for 20 years, give or take.
I think it's notable that they took very good care of their furniture, too. It seems that most of what they owned they had had for a long, long, LONG time. It was so well cared for, it seemed, that it could be considered only slightly used but I know it had been around a while. One thing is certain, their conservativism made it possible to have a very comfortable retirement. Some of that came from their pensions but much of it also came from their apparent habit of saving and watching their spending very closely.
Midway through my stay with them, Grandpa bought a computer. To this day, I'm not 100% sure what his original motivations were but I do know that it was a boon to me. I didn't have to use the manual typewriter for term papers any more! Grandpa diligently taught himself to use the computer and I did likewise. Sometimes, I would stay up until 4:00am on a weekend, just learning how to do what I wanted to do with it. I made every effort to make sure I didn't take too much of Grandpa's time on the computer and even though he never said anything to me about it, in hindsight, I wonder if he ever felt any frustration at how much time I was spending on it. Grandpa did use that computer, though he tended to use it more as a glorified typewriter and expressed a significant degree of frustration with it. Still, he learned, I taught him as much as I could and he learned well.
Amazingly, he was, as I hinted above, the kind of man who could learn throughout his life. Even though later on he had to carry around a stack of note cards to keep in touch with what he wanted to do, he could learn new things quite readily. The computer was one of them and in spite of his frustrations, he adapted to it well. After several years, however, he finally gave it up and went back to writing letters by hand. I wasn't personally offended, of course, but I felt that it was a bit of a step backward. Still, it was always good to get a letter from Grandpa or Grandma in their own handwriting. Grandma didn't eve learn to use the computer and I never knew why. She just used her typewriter and signed in her own hand.
I should mention, those of you who are descendants of Don and Emily have all of that innate intelligence they had. Don't deny it, you know you do!
Well, I started out to write more about some of the philosophical conversations I had with Grandpa but I think I'll hold on to that for next time!
--Wag--
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Affairs
Affairs are (almost) never about sex. There is (nearly) always something else troubling the relationship which leads to the affair. Many times, it's an emotional issue between the two people. Other times, one or the other of the two has baggage which has never been confronted and which poisons the relationship. Most often, people get married too quickly and start popping out kids too fast before they understand all of the dynamics of their "new" relationship.
It's too late for many people but I'm a real proponent of the following relationship steps:
1. Have all the sex you can with as many partners as you can before you get into a serious relationship of any kind. Do this from the age of 14 to the age of 25. Remember not to have sex with minors, always use condoms every damn time, don't knock anyone up or get knocked up and don't spread diseases. Do everything you want to do now and enjoy yourself without doing anything illegal.
2. A couple of years before you think you can handle a relationship, learn how. Take some classes and read some books. Listen to intelligent people who have had successful long-term relationships. It's going to have the potential to save your neck.
3. Practice a few times. Have a couple of "long-term" relationships of about six or twelve months and see how it goes. You need to know how to pick 'em, know how to work with them on the relationship, resolve issues large and small, talk about what you want long-term. Boot the other person to the curb as soon as he or she shows an inability to have a trusting, mutually beneficial relationship with you. Always remember though, you could get lucky on the first try and find your lifemate right away so be open minded to the possibility.
4. About the time you're in your late 20's to early 30's and you find, "the one," live with that person for no less that three years. I recommend at least five years, depending on how the relationship is going. By this time or at some point during, you both should have finished your degrees, gotten yourself well established in a career, decided where you want to live for the next 30 years and bought a house that you can afford in that area. All issues about roles, money, kids, etc. should have been talked through during this live-in period.
5. Get married. AFTER you have some pre-marital counseling.
6. The make-it or break-it issue of most marriages (after money) is kids. If you decide to have kids, now is the time. Remember, they will change your lifestyle quite radically. Be sure you're ready to be tied down, quite literally. Remember, it's okay to not have kids. If you decide not to, again, sack up and get snipped or tied off so that it's never an issue in the future. Don't give me any, "I'm not sure," crap, either. Make a friggin' decision already! You're too old to not know by now. If for some reason you do change your mind after you've cut off all ties to your genetic seed, adopt.
7a. If you had kids, raise them with a sense of responsibility and take care of their needs as a responsible parent. They are people. Treat them as such. They are growing things in need of direction and guidance. Give that to them, even if is isn't always warm and fuzzy or lovey-dovey to do so.
7b. If you don't have kids, enjoy life just as much as everyone else who has kids. Yes, it can be done!
After all of that, if you feel you still have to have sex with some bimbo or stud muffin even though you did #1 above, then you know what? Have enough class to go to your lifemate and end the relationship FIRST. If you don't have the sack to do that, then go ahead. Fuck the shit out of him or her and live the rest of your life as a coward and a fool.
Just some thoughts.
--Wag--
It's too late for many people but I'm a real proponent of the following relationship steps:
1. Have all the sex you can with as many partners as you can before you get into a serious relationship of any kind. Do this from the age of 14 to the age of 25. Remember not to have sex with minors, always use condoms every damn time, don't knock anyone up or get knocked up and don't spread diseases. Do everything you want to do now and enjoy yourself without doing anything illegal.
2. A couple of years before you think you can handle a relationship, learn how. Take some classes and read some books. Listen to intelligent people who have had successful long-term relationships. It's going to have the potential to save your neck.
3. Practice a few times. Have a couple of "long-term" relationships of about six or twelve months and see how it goes. You need to know how to pick 'em, know how to work with them on the relationship, resolve issues large and small, talk about what you want long-term. Boot the other person to the curb as soon as he or she shows an inability to have a trusting, mutually beneficial relationship with you. Always remember though, you could get lucky on the first try and find your lifemate right away so be open minded to the possibility.
4. About the time you're in your late 20's to early 30's and you find, "the one," live with that person for no less that three years. I recommend at least five years, depending on how the relationship is going. By this time or at some point during, you both should have finished your degrees, gotten yourself well established in a career, decided where you want to live for the next 30 years and bought a house that you can afford in that area. All issues about roles, money, kids, etc. should have been talked through during this live-in period.
5. Get married. AFTER you have some pre-marital counseling.
6. The make-it or break-it issue of most marriages (after money) is kids. If you decide to have kids, now is the time. Remember, they will change your lifestyle quite radically. Be sure you're ready to be tied down, quite literally. Remember, it's okay to not have kids. If you decide not to, again, sack up and get snipped or tied off so that it's never an issue in the future. Don't give me any, "I'm not sure," crap, either. Make a friggin' decision already! You're too old to not know by now. If for some reason you do change your mind after you've cut off all ties to your genetic seed, adopt.
7a. If you had kids, raise them with a sense of responsibility and take care of their needs as a responsible parent. They are people. Treat them as such. They are growing things in need of direction and guidance. Give that to them, even if is isn't always warm and fuzzy or lovey-dovey to do so.
7b. If you don't have kids, enjoy life just as much as everyone else who has kids. Yes, it can be done!
After all of that, if you feel you still have to have sex with some bimbo or stud muffin even though you did #1 above, then you know what? Have enough class to go to your lifemate and end the relationship FIRST. If you don't have the sack to do that, then go ahead. Fuck the shit out of him or her and live the rest of your life as a coward and a fool.
Just some thoughts.
--Wag--
A Hypothetical Question
As a manger, I hire and fire from time to time as needed. Hiring is always an adventure, however, the task is usually simplified by all the people out there who can't spell, use grammar or other English usage problems. Those resumes always go right to the circular file, so to speak.
As a footnote, over the years, I've noticed that said circular file fills up ever faster and the "keep and interview" pile take a lot longer to fill up.
I was thinking, however, What if it were the other way around? What if you sent a resume out knowing that it was spotlessly perfect? You've had all your brilliant friends read it and there is no doubt.
Unbeknownst to you, the guy on the other end who gets your resume is a moron and can't spell. He sees a word on your resume, spelled correctly but because of HIS inability or lack of education, he thinks, incorrectly, that the word is spelled wrong and boom! Your resume ends up in the above-mentioned circular file. Well, not mine, but his.
You get to lose an opportunity because of this idiot and surprise, surprise, you'll never get to know. I wonder just how often this actually happens but I bet we'll never find out.
--Wag--
As a footnote, over the years, I've noticed that said circular file fills up ever faster and the "keep and interview" pile take a lot longer to fill up.
I was thinking, however, What if it were the other way around? What if you sent a resume out knowing that it was spotlessly perfect? You've had all your brilliant friends read it and there is no doubt.
Unbeknownst to you, the guy on the other end who gets your resume is a moron and can't spell. He sees a word on your resume, spelled correctly but because of HIS inability or lack of education, he thinks, incorrectly, that the word is spelled wrong and boom! Your resume ends up in the above-mentioned circular file. Well, not mine, but his.
You get to lose an opportunity because of this idiot and surprise, surprise, you'll never get to know. I wonder just how often this actually happens but I bet we'll never find out.
--Wag--
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Tax simplification
Question from Jeff Dunkel
"Do you think that a consumption tax or flat tax would be more fair to taxpayers than the current income tax system?
1. Eliminates evasion. Nobody gets to be paid, "under the table." Even illegal aliens get taxed.
2. People get to choose whether to pay taxes and how much to pay. If you don't want to pay the taxes, you don't buy the product.
3. Simplicity. There are no tables and no exceptions. I believe there should be no exceptions based on type of product, income of consumer, etc.
4. Overhead management task for the government is greatly reduced. Instead of tracking a huge number of individual and corporate taxpayers, we track a far smaller number of businesses who are acting as tax collectors.
Potential problems.
1. Some tax collectors could still evade. Even today, we hear of companies who run off with the sales tax receipts!
2. Black markets will be created reducing receipts.
3. Bartering will increase, also reducing receipts though somewhat minimally.
4. Current tax specialists may lose work volume.
Ironically, as messed up as our current tax system is, I continue to hear that we need to change to flat taxes and yet, along with those proposals, a series of caps, exceptions and variances for any number of reasons which pretty much sabotage the entire concept! If we can shoot for a consistent simplicity, we aren't helping ourselves.
The biggest obstacle of any "new" tax system is that of educating the public about how it works. Since everyone is pretty much familiar with how sales tax works, educating the general public about consumption tax is markedly simplified.
Just brainstorming.
Lou
"Do you think that a consumption tax or flat tax would be more fair to taxpayers than the current income tax system?
It seems that one of the biggest complaints is how some people pay too much and some too little in taxes. If you could start from scratch, and it was necessary to choose a taxing system to raise revenue, do you think the current income tax system, flat tax, or consumption tax would be best?"
My response:
1. Eliminates evasion. Nobody gets to be paid, "under the table." Even illegal aliens get taxed.
2. People get to choose whether to pay taxes and how much to pay. If you don't want to pay the taxes, you don't buy the product.
3. Simplicity. There are no tables and no exceptions. I believe there should be no exceptions based on type of product, income of consumer, etc.
4. Overhead management task for the government is greatly reduced. Instead of tracking a huge number of individual and corporate taxpayers, we track a far smaller number of businesses who are acting as tax collectors.
Potential problems.
1. Some tax collectors could still evade. Even today, we hear of companies who run off with the sales tax receipts!
2. Black markets will be created reducing receipts.
3. Bartering will increase, also reducing receipts though somewhat minimally.
4. Current tax specialists may lose work volume.
Ironically, as messed up as our current tax system is, I continue to hear that we need to change to flat taxes and yet, along with those proposals, a series of caps, exceptions and variances for any number of reasons which pretty much sabotage the entire concept! If we can shoot for a consistent simplicity, we aren't helping ourselves.
The biggest obstacle of any "new" tax system is that of educating the public about how it works. Since everyone is pretty much familiar with how sales tax works, educating the general public about consumption tax is markedly simplified.
Just brainstorming.
Lou
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Memoirs of Don and Emily - part 2
Note: Again, this is a more expanded version of a post I made to our family online group. I take a bit more license here to be more honest and less politically correct than I was with my family. My reasons for doing so may be a bit obscure at the moment but over time, it may become more apparent.
Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.
----------
Watching Grandma and Grandpa interact with one another during my year with them was sometimes an adventure, sometimes a treat, other times curious and always educational, even if to determine, "Hey, I better not do that!" Grandma and Grandpa had been married for a lot of years and that meant a successful relationship, right? Ummmm, yes. In many ways, yes. In other ways, not so much but to be fair, I think most relationships are like this. Some couples live together for decades and cannot be said to have a successful relationship. Many times, they have just been roommates for a very long time and avoided divorce only because it was supposedly, "bad."
Other couples do have successful relationships and after a few years of learning how, they move right along, happy and content and able to confront issues with maturity and tact. Note, I did not say, "without anger and strife." Successful couples can still get frustrated and angry with each other but how they deal with those issues is what makes their relationships succeed.
Those are the two ends of the bell curve. Most normal people reside somewhere in the middle, of course, as did Grandma and Grandpa. From day to day, they might even move back and forth along the curve from good, to better and back again. There were some indications that Grandma and Grandpa might have been better off divorcing, however, they were comfortable with each other and could manage their feelings because of their vast experiences with each other.
Grandpa used to grow the most beautiful garden. His green thumb could be seen from space, to be sure. Or at least, from the top of the water tower! It was a luxury beyond compare to have the best and freshest produce of my life. During season of course. When the apricots came on, I indulged to the point of being stupid about it. It didn't matter how much I ate, though, I could never put a dent in the production of that apricot tree. I've never enjoyed store-bought apricots since because they simply don't have nearly the exquisite flavor I remember. Grandpa gave them away by the bucket load and still finished the apricot season by dumping a lot of it in the trash. Even the birds had their fill. The same was true of the peaches, plums, nectarines, etc. Grandpa wanted all of them and had them. Even a pomegranate tree, a fig tree and a Thompson seedless grape arbor!
I think Grandma was the only one who bore a slight resentment about all the produce but probably not just because of the produce itself. The problem was, Grandpa would get up first thing in the morning before the birds, even, and go pick all the produce in the garden that had ripened the previous day. Later, Grandma would go into the kitchen after getting up and find several dozen pounds of produce in the kitchen, on the counters, in the sink, in a bag on the floor, all waiting for something to be done to it. Grandma complained a bit. Not a lot. She knew the benefit of the garden but dangit; she just didn't like the frequent surprise and the implied expectation that it was her job to deal with all of this. She never complained to Grandpa about it that I heard, though. She mentioned it up to me just once after weeks of putting up various produce.
Then she rolled up her sleeves and canned or dried all of it. I would come home at the end of the day to a kitchen counter and a dining room table loaded down with jars of apricots, corn, green beans, peaches, or whatever else she had spent the day preserving. The jars were beautiful. Most of them disappeared into the basement storage and were never seen again, unfortunately, but there were plenty of times when we did retrieve a jar during the winter for a dessert. Good stuff. A significant amount of that stored produce, unfortunately, went bad as things do and had to be disposed. This was more of a testament to how much produce was harvested and canned by Grandma and Grandpa rather than that they didn't necessarily handle it right. It was just too much for them to keep up with.
Two things drove them to create all of this sustenance: The church was a driving force for food storage and insisted that people put up a year's supply to carry people in the event of an disaster. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. In the early years, however, the church didn't promote the management of such storage and quite a few families out there put up food only to find that they hadn't taken care of it properly and it became a total loss. Grandma and Grandpa seemed to know what they were doing but were overwhelmed with the quantity of food they produced and they refused to waste any of their garden's production. Church duty called and they kept working it.
I wonder just how many people these days even know how to do this any more? Is there any need any more? Grandma wasn't about to waste any of it, that's for sure, and Grandpa wasn't about to not grow it so long as he had space to grow stuff. The other driving force behind their production and storage was that they had been children of hard times and they worked hard and sweated and bled and produced for themselves and then saved and saved and saved, whether it was money or the production of their garden. They were the hardest working people I ever met alongside my maternal grandparents and nothing ever stopped them.
In spite of a few minor snipes they directed toward each other, they never fought with each other while I stayed with them in Thatcher. There were a couple of occasions when Grandma would bring up something Grandpa had done thirty years ago and he would sit there nodding his head and giving an, "Uh huh," now and again. Later, he would tell me, "I suppose that actually happened but for the life of me, I can't remember it. It's just not worth arguing about." He was right; it wasn't worth arguing about but if she had a reason to bring it up to him again these many years later, who was he to say that her need was not important? Let her go on about it. There was a minor complaint in his comment but not to her.
By the same token, Grandpa would undertake to accomplish a project to the inconvenience of Grandma and her daily comfort. The garden produce was a significant example. She complained to me a couple of times in terms of, "I wish he wouldn't . . , " but she didn't mention it to him. She knew it made him happy to be doing things and working on something or other. I'm sure that if they had lived in Thatcher long enough, Grandpa would have had a skyscraper on the property, built by his own hand still producing fruits and vegetables worthy of a property with five times the acreage!
There was a plaque hanging in the kitchen which I'll never forget. I don't recall if Grandpa made it or bought it in a store but it expressed his feelings for Grandma in, "the most perfect terms," his words to me. It said,
"I don't love you because I need you, I need you because I love you."
This profound statement has remained with me ever since. It suggests more thought than I can even write out over time and the more I reflect on it, the more meaning it has and the more I engage in a relationship with my life mate, the more it suggests what that relationship is all about. I seem to recall that Grandpa had given the plaque to Grandma later on in their relationship, something that bears a great deal of meaning well beyond the empty platitudes a young man often uses to flatter his woman.
After so many years of marriage, Grandpa was still deeply in love with his wife. Grandma was in love with her man. Quite often, I could see it in their eyes when they spoke of each other to me in private. When Grandpa told me of the plaque and how he felt about it and about Grandma, his eyes grew misty and touched with an emotion that he wouldn't ever let out for another person. He never let it out for me to see except for that small bit that he couldn't hide, then he moved on to a different topic. Grandma sometimes told stories of Grandpa's past accomplishments with a similar touch of feeling in her face and a barely perceptible tremble in her voice which spoke of admiration, adoration and pride.
When it is said, "Love knows no bounds," I think it's right and good to say that Grandma and Grandpa were an example of that kind of love.
--Wag--
Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.
----------
Watching Grandma and Grandpa interact with one another during my year with them was sometimes an adventure, sometimes a treat, other times curious and always educational, even if to determine, "Hey, I better not do that!" Grandma and Grandpa had been married for a lot of years and that meant a successful relationship, right? Ummmm, yes. In many ways, yes. In other ways, not so much but to be fair, I think most relationships are like this. Some couples live together for decades and cannot be said to have a successful relationship. Many times, they have just been roommates for a very long time and avoided divorce only because it was supposedly, "bad."
Other couples do have successful relationships and after a few years of learning how, they move right along, happy and content and able to confront issues with maturity and tact. Note, I did not say, "without anger and strife." Successful couples can still get frustrated and angry with each other but how they deal with those issues is what makes their relationships succeed.
Those are the two ends of the bell curve. Most normal people reside somewhere in the middle, of course, as did Grandma and Grandpa. From day to day, they might even move back and forth along the curve from good, to better and back again. There were some indications that Grandma and Grandpa might have been better off divorcing, however, they were comfortable with each other and could manage their feelings because of their vast experiences with each other.
Grandpa used to grow the most beautiful garden. His green thumb could be seen from space, to be sure. Or at least, from the top of the water tower! It was a luxury beyond compare to have the best and freshest produce of my life. During season of course. When the apricots came on, I indulged to the point of being stupid about it. It didn't matter how much I ate, though, I could never put a dent in the production of that apricot tree. I've never enjoyed store-bought apricots since because they simply don't have nearly the exquisite flavor I remember. Grandpa gave them away by the bucket load and still finished the apricot season by dumping a lot of it in the trash. Even the birds had their fill. The same was true of the peaches, plums, nectarines, etc. Grandpa wanted all of them and had them. Even a pomegranate tree, a fig tree and a Thompson seedless grape arbor!
I think Grandma was the only one who bore a slight resentment about all the produce but probably not just because of the produce itself. The problem was, Grandpa would get up first thing in the morning before the birds, even, and go pick all the produce in the garden that had ripened the previous day. Later, Grandma would go into the kitchen after getting up and find several dozen pounds of produce in the kitchen, on the counters, in the sink, in a bag on the floor, all waiting for something to be done to it. Grandma complained a bit. Not a lot. She knew the benefit of the garden but dangit; she just didn't like the frequent surprise and the implied expectation that it was her job to deal with all of this. She never complained to Grandpa about it that I heard, though. She mentioned it up to me just once after weeks of putting up various produce.
Then she rolled up her sleeves and canned or dried all of it. I would come home at the end of the day to a kitchen counter and a dining room table loaded down with jars of apricots, corn, green beans, peaches, or whatever else she had spent the day preserving. The jars were beautiful. Most of them disappeared into the basement storage and were never seen again, unfortunately, but there were plenty of times when we did retrieve a jar during the winter for a dessert. Good stuff. A significant amount of that stored produce, unfortunately, went bad as things do and had to be disposed. This was more of a testament to how much produce was harvested and canned by Grandma and Grandpa rather than that they didn't necessarily handle it right. It was just too much for them to keep up with.
Two things drove them to create all of this sustenance: The church was a driving force for food storage and insisted that people put up a year's supply to carry people in the event of an disaster. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, of course. In the early years, however, the church didn't promote the management of such storage and quite a few families out there put up food only to find that they hadn't taken care of it properly and it became a total loss. Grandma and Grandpa seemed to know what they were doing but were overwhelmed with the quantity of food they produced and they refused to waste any of their garden's production. Church duty called and they kept working it.
I wonder just how many people these days even know how to do this any more? Is there any need any more? Grandma wasn't about to waste any of it, that's for sure, and Grandpa wasn't about to not grow it so long as he had space to grow stuff. The other driving force behind their production and storage was that they had been children of hard times and they worked hard and sweated and bled and produced for themselves and then saved and saved and saved, whether it was money or the production of their garden. They were the hardest working people I ever met alongside my maternal grandparents and nothing ever stopped them.
In spite of a few minor snipes they directed toward each other, they never fought with each other while I stayed with them in Thatcher. There were a couple of occasions when Grandma would bring up something Grandpa had done thirty years ago and he would sit there nodding his head and giving an, "Uh huh," now and again. Later, he would tell me, "I suppose that actually happened but for the life of me, I can't remember it. It's just not worth arguing about." He was right; it wasn't worth arguing about but if she had a reason to bring it up to him again these many years later, who was he to say that her need was not important? Let her go on about it. There was a minor complaint in his comment but not to her.
By the same token, Grandpa would undertake to accomplish a project to the inconvenience of Grandma and her daily comfort. The garden produce was a significant example. She complained to me a couple of times in terms of, "I wish he wouldn't . . , " but she didn't mention it to him. She knew it made him happy to be doing things and working on something or other. I'm sure that if they had lived in Thatcher long enough, Grandpa would have had a skyscraper on the property, built by his own hand still producing fruits and vegetables worthy of a property with five times the acreage!
There was a plaque hanging in the kitchen which I'll never forget. I don't recall if Grandpa made it or bought it in a store but it expressed his feelings for Grandma in, "the most perfect terms," his words to me. It said,
"I don't love you because I need you, I need you because I love you."
This profound statement has remained with me ever since. It suggests more thought than I can even write out over time and the more I reflect on it, the more meaning it has and the more I engage in a relationship with my life mate, the more it suggests what that relationship is all about. I seem to recall that Grandpa had given the plaque to Grandma later on in their relationship, something that bears a great deal of meaning well beyond the empty platitudes a young man often uses to flatter his woman.
After so many years of marriage, Grandpa was still deeply in love with his wife. Grandma was in love with her man. Quite often, I could see it in their eyes when they spoke of each other to me in private. When Grandpa told me of the plaque and how he felt about it and about Grandma, his eyes grew misty and touched with an emotion that he wouldn't ever let out for another person. He never let it out for me to see except for that small bit that he couldn't hide, then he moved on to a different topic. Grandma sometimes told stories of Grandpa's past accomplishments with a similar touch of feeling in her face and a barely perceptible tremble in her voice which spoke of admiration, adoration and pride.
When it is said, "Love knows no bounds," I think it's right and good to say that Grandma and Grandpa were an example of that kind of love.
--Wag--
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Memoirs of Don and Emily
Note: This is a more expanded version of a post I made to our family online group. I take a bit more license here to be more honest and less politically correct as I was with my family. My reasons for doing so may be a bit obscure at the moment but over time, it may become more apparent.
Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.
------------------------------------
Memoirs of Don and Emily
Early in 1982, my father came to me and said, "Son, with 10 kids to feed, I'll never be able to help pay your way through college so if you want to go, you better keep your grades up and hope for some scholarships." That was about the extent of that conversation. A 16-year kid now saddled with the challenge of paying his own way through college. We were hillbillies living 10 miles out of town and job prospects were slim at best even IF we had enough cars running to get me back and forth. Fortunately, I wasn't the first teenager in the world to have that problem thrust upon him and I'm pleased to know I was not the last!
The scholarship idea sounded pretty good, though. Free money! Of all the advice I ever received from my father, this was probably the only one that ever turned out to be of much value over the long term and probably the only advice of his I even really remember. I started working hard in school for the first time and brought a 2.90 GPA up to a 3.67 by the middle of my senior year. Not bad for a year's effort. I think that's the same GPA I had when I graduated or perhaps slightly better. At some point in the middle of my senior year, I wrote a letter to Grandpa and asked if he would be willing to house me while I went to school at Eastern Arizona College in Thatcher where he and Grandma lived.
In the meantime, I applied to EAC and also applied for Pell Grants and several other scholarships and grants.
Grandpa returned a very complimentary letter. He informed me that I had been polite and deferential and that it had surprised them to read a letter from a "young man" with that much maturity and grace. He stated that because of my letter, he and Grandma would love to have me come and stay with them! I don't think they quite realized at the time what they were really getting into! In his letter, they offered to drive from Thatcher, AZ to Sullivan, MO for my graduation and then I could ride back with them to start a summer semester at the college. I accepted their offer immediately, of course.
Shortly after that, due to my improved grades plus the poverty level in which we lived at the time, I received several grants and scholarships which not only paid for my tuition and books but also room and board. EAC also accepted me as a student and I was off and running. Grandma and Grandpa were extraordinarily generous and refused any sort of payment for boarding me or for any of their other costs for that matter. They also insisted on paying for numerous perks which added to my personal comfort. In short they spoiled me quite badly!
One of the more important things they did was to get legal paperwork completed so I could be on their health insurance while I was in school. I don't know how much that cost them but it was plenty, I have little doubt. I'll be eternally grateful to them for all of the extra assists they gave to me. It made my life during my first year of college worry and stress free.
Sometimes, the juxtaposition of their generosity was slightly humorous. Early on, they bought me a cassette player radio combo which was not top of the line but was quite good. It was the alarm clock I needed the most but it was helpful to have the music and everything else along with it. Some nice little features for its day. The point is, it was pretty high tech for the time. At the same time I started my first English class, they also bought me a typewriter. Not the IBM Selectric which was pretty high-end back then but an old run-down manual typewriter. Yup. No power at all. The damn thing worked, though! I did all of my term papers and compositions on that thing for a year. I wonder to this day if they thought it would, "build character!" I suspect they got it just out of nostalgia. I wish I still had that typewriter, just for the memories.
As a result of their monetary generosity, I was able to really focus on my schoolwork and took 21 hours of core classes the first semester and 22 the second. Grandpa helped me tremendously with my first summer English Comp and Critical Thinking class. Because of his tutoring, I was able to pull an easy 'A' in that class and in several others for which I wrote term papers, etc. I don't think I ever got less than an 'A' on any term paper while I lived with Grandpa and the education I received from him was priceless beyond compare. It has served me to this day. Granted, I'm not the perfect writer but I'm light years ahead of where I would have been without his assistance.
The nice thing is, he didn't just point out errors I had made, he told me why they were errors and coached me on form and style, usage and grammar, etc. Things I had missed, somehow, while sleeping, er, sitting in high school English classes!
Ahhhh, the memories. Grandma and Grandpa both insisted on focusing me toward things they felt were important. Piano was very high on the list, probably #2. Not only did they pay for my private lessons but, at their insistence, every morning at 4:30am, I rose and showered and then hit the piano for at least 90 minutes of practice before classes. As time went on, they both expressed to me on several occasions that it helped them sleep better in the early hours of the morning. On occasion, Grandma would have a headache in the afternoon and if I happened to be playing or practicing, she would lay down for a nap and the piano would soothe her to sleep. It's a comfort to me to know how much they appreciated it and it was an honor then to play for them.
As a footnote, Grandma loved Chopin but at the time, I wasn't capable of playing any of it. It was a pleasure years later to finally be able to play, "Fantasie Impromptu," and, "Ballade in G minor," among others for her on a couple of occasions. The ecstasy in Grandma's voice and in her eyes was all I needed to see and hear in order to motivate me to excel at the piano for many years afterward.
More to follow as time allows!
--Wag--
Also, to clarify, Don and Emily are my grandparents on my father's side.
------------------------------------
Memoirs of Don and Emily
Early in 1982, my father came to me and said, "Son, with 10 kids to feed, I'll never be able to help pay your way through college so if you want to go, you better keep your grades up and hope for some scholarships." That was about the extent of that conversation. A 16-year kid now saddled with the challenge of paying his own way through college. We were hillbillies living 10 miles out of town and job prospects were slim at best even IF we had enough cars running to get me back and forth. Fortunately, I wasn't the first teenager in the world to have that problem thrust upon him and I'm pleased to know I was not the last!
The scholarship idea sounded pretty good, though. Free money! Of all the advice I ever received from my father, this was probably the only one that ever turned out to be of much value over the long term and probably the only advice of his I even really remember. I started working hard in school for the first time and brought a 2.90 GPA up to a 3.67 by the middle of my senior year. Not bad for a year's effort. I think that's the same GPA I had when I graduated or perhaps slightly better. At some point in the middle of my senior year, I wrote a letter to Grandpa and asked if he would be willing to house me while I went to school at Eastern Arizona College in Thatcher where he and Grandma lived.
In the meantime, I applied to EAC and also applied for Pell Grants and several other scholarships and grants.
Grandpa returned a very complimentary letter. He informed me that I had been polite and deferential and that it had surprised them to read a letter from a "young man" with that much maturity and grace. He stated that because of my letter, he and Grandma would love to have me come and stay with them! I don't think they quite realized at the time what they were really getting into! In his letter, they offered to drive from Thatcher, AZ to Sullivan, MO for my graduation and then I could ride back with them to start a summer semester at the college. I accepted their offer immediately, of course.
Shortly after that, due to my improved grades plus the poverty level in which we lived at the time, I received several grants and scholarships which not only paid for my tuition and books but also room and board. EAC also accepted me as a student and I was off and running. Grandma and Grandpa were extraordinarily generous and refused any sort of payment for boarding me or for any of their other costs for that matter. They also insisted on paying for numerous perks which added to my personal comfort. In short they spoiled me quite badly!
One of the more important things they did was to get legal paperwork completed so I could be on their health insurance while I was in school. I don't know how much that cost them but it was plenty, I have little doubt. I'll be eternally grateful to them for all of the extra assists they gave to me. It made my life during my first year of college worry and stress free.
Sometimes, the juxtaposition of their generosity was slightly humorous. Early on, they bought me a cassette player radio combo which was not top of the line but was quite good. It was the alarm clock I needed the most but it was helpful to have the music and everything else along with it. Some nice little features for its day. The point is, it was pretty high tech for the time. At the same time I started my first English class, they also bought me a typewriter. Not the IBM Selectric which was pretty high-end back then but an old run-down manual typewriter. Yup. No power at all. The damn thing worked, though! I did all of my term papers and compositions on that thing for a year. I wonder to this day if they thought it would, "build character!" I suspect they got it just out of nostalgia. I wish I still had that typewriter, just for the memories.
As a result of their monetary generosity, I was able to really focus on my schoolwork and took 21 hours of core classes the first semester and 22 the second. Grandpa helped me tremendously with my first summer English Comp and Critical Thinking class. Because of his tutoring, I was able to pull an easy 'A' in that class and in several others for which I wrote term papers, etc. I don't think I ever got less than an 'A' on any term paper while I lived with Grandpa and the education I received from him was priceless beyond compare. It has served me to this day. Granted, I'm not the perfect writer but I'm light years ahead of where I would have been without his assistance.
The nice thing is, he didn't just point out errors I had made, he told me why they were errors and coached me on form and style, usage and grammar, etc. Things I had missed, somehow, while sleeping, er, sitting in high school English classes!
Ahhhh, the memories. Grandma and Grandpa both insisted on focusing me toward things they felt were important. Piano was very high on the list, probably #2. Not only did they pay for my private lessons but, at their insistence, every morning at 4:30am, I rose and showered and then hit the piano for at least 90 minutes of practice before classes. As time went on, they both expressed to me on several occasions that it helped them sleep better in the early hours of the morning. On occasion, Grandma would have a headache in the afternoon and if I happened to be playing or practicing, she would lay down for a nap and the piano would soothe her to sleep. It's a comfort to me to know how much they appreciated it and it was an honor then to play for them.
As a footnote, Grandma loved Chopin but at the time, I wasn't capable of playing any of it. It was a pleasure years later to finally be able to play, "Fantasie Impromptu," and, "Ballade in G minor," among others for her on a couple of occasions. The ecstasy in Grandma's voice and in her eyes was all I needed to see and hear in order to motivate me to excel at the piano for many years afterward.
More to follow as time allows!
--Wag--
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
A better place
Why is it when people hear of another person's passing, they offer this comfort to survivors: "They're in a better place."
Is that really always the case? How would you know, anyway? A few years ago, I wrote a paper for a class about people's right to die. A key source document was Derek Humphries,' "Final Exit." The whole thing about it is, What is life?
A fundamental question is, can a person in a wheelchair enjoy his or her life? Absolutely. Can another person confined thusly have a miserable existence? Of course. Who gets to decide which one gets to enjoy life and which has to suffer? Assuming there is no god making this decision and that life just happens, who gets to decide? Congress? May the stars fall from the sky first. The family? Who's to say they will make an unbiased decision. A court? No better than congress and assuredly not unbiased, people.
The point made by that long ago paper is that the decision should be made by the person whose life is in question. There are those who can enjoy a life as a paraplegic or quadriplegic. I suppose they are to be admired. Let them live their lives as best they know how. Nobody else is in a place to determine what is right for those individuals. Only the individual should decide.
By the same token, if a helpless confined person decides that life has already ended for them, who are we to say they are required to live? The decision is no more ours than the decision that a guy should die if he wants to live. Why would we be in a better position to tell a person he should live if he wants to die?
I'm not talking about your healthy individual suffering from depression who is looking for a way to commit suicide. No, those people should be helped with whatever it is they need in order to make the decision to live. They have a treatable problem and should be assisted to take every opportunity life has to offer.
No, I'm talking about the person whose physical ability to live has been severely impaired and for whom opportunity has been severely limited.
Sooooo, having said all of that, my original point is, why is it that people think that when someone dies, they should say, "It's just as well. They're in a better place now?" How on earth or heaven would they know? Suppose you're a believer, maybe the guy is now in hell treading flames? How would you know that the person is sitting on the right hand of a (sadistic) god? Regardless, what if there nothing after this life, maybe the guy really wanted to live, not die, how does that put him in a better place? I should think that it's only a better place if the person was really interested in dying in order to end suffering at the end of a well-lived life.
Maybe I'm picking on a point which hasn't much impact but hey. how many people have ever thought of this? I've never heard it discussed.
--Wag--
Is that really always the case? How would you know, anyway? A few years ago, I wrote a paper for a class about people's right to die. A key source document was Derek Humphries,' "Final Exit." The whole thing about it is, What is life?
A fundamental question is, can a person in a wheelchair enjoy his or her life? Absolutely. Can another person confined thusly have a miserable existence? Of course. Who gets to decide which one gets to enjoy life and which has to suffer? Assuming there is no god making this decision and that life just happens, who gets to decide? Congress? May the stars fall from the sky first. The family? Who's to say they will make an unbiased decision. A court? No better than congress and assuredly not unbiased, people.
The point made by that long ago paper is that the decision should be made by the person whose life is in question. There are those who can enjoy a life as a paraplegic or quadriplegic. I suppose they are to be admired. Let them live their lives as best they know how. Nobody else is in a place to determine what is right for those individuals. Only the individual should decide.
By the same token, if a helpless confined person decides that life has already ended for them, who are we to say they are required to live? The decision is no more ours than the decision that a guy should die if he wants to live. Why would we be in a better position to tell a person he should live if he wants to die?
I'm not talking about your healthy individual suffering from depression who is looking for a way to commit suicide. No, those people should be helped with whatever it is they need in order to make the decision to live. They have a treatable problem and should be assisted to take every opportunity life has to offer.
No, I'm talking about the person whose physical ability to live has been severely impaired and for whom opportunity has been severely limited.
Sooooo, having said all of that, my original point is, why is it that people think that when someone dies, they should say, "It's just as well. They're in a better place now?" How on earth or heaven would they know? Suppose you're a believer, maybe the guy is now in hell treading flames? How would you know that the person is sitting on the right hand of a (sadistic) god? Regardless, what if there nothing after this life, maybe the guy really wanted to live, not die, how does that put him in a better place? I should think that it's only a better place if the person was really interested in dying in order to end suffering at the end of a well-lived life.
Maybe I'm picking on a point which hasn't much impact but hey. how many people have ever thought of this? I've never heard it discussed.
--Wag--
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Nobody is crying to get OUT!
America seems to be taking a beating these days. We get verbal abuse from every population in the world but the fact is, this is a damn nice place to live. Millions of people all over the world are risking life and limb to get here for one thing and one thing only: Opportunity.
Nowhere else on earth does it exist in such abundance. Look at Saudi Arabia. Rich with oil money to the extent the really don't have a clue what to do with it. At least, the people who have it. That means, the royal family and their people. They're rolling nicely. The average Saudi, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have a whole lot of it and more importantly than anything else, seems to have little opportunity to get any of it.
There's that word again. Opportunity. Look at Mexico. Same thing. Most of South and Central America. Cuba. China. Indonesia. With the exception of Europe, where is ample opportunity besides America? Even comparing Europe and the U.S., the opportunity you have in Europe is taxed to oblivion. Oh, wait. Don't forget about Canada but there again, you're taxed to death!
Only in the U.S do we have the wealth of opportunity so great WE don't really know what to do with it. Opportunity great and small. Opportunity far and wide. Opportunity for education, experience, wealth, leisure, social interaction with your chosen people. Opportunity exists for health, peace, prosperity, information, religion . . . . Even the opportunity to say how much you love it here. Or hate it here.
What saddens me is just how many people who are here, enjoying all of these opportunities (or choosing not to), are so intent on expressing their hatred of it. But what's always more telling than words, as we all know, is action.
These people aren't leaving. When was the last time you heard of a boat full of people drowning en route to Cuba? Illegal (non-criminal) American immigrants in Mexico? People risking their lives and well-being and even their families to get from America to China? Never? Me either.
People stay here. They speak loudly with their actions that frankly, this place is a pretty damn nice place to live. Indeed, it's the nicest place on the planet to live. There is no better place.
You know what else we have the opportunity to do? Change things. We have the opportunity to make changes to everything under the sun and improve everything we see. We get to change out our leaders and get them to do what we want. I don't think there are very many other places in the world where this can be done quite as well as here.
Frankly, I'm impressed with this country. I still believe in it, in spite of it's flaws, in spite of it's weaknesses. I see that even though we frequently waste the opportunities which are so freely given to us by this great country, we still have ample left to go around.
It's a grand thing, isn't it?
--Wag--
Nowhere else on earth does it exist in such abundance. Look at Saudi Arabia. Rich with oil money to the extent the really don't have a clue what to do with it. At least, the people who have it. That means, the royal family and their people. They're rolling nicely. The average Saudi, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have a whole lot of it and more importantly than anything else, seems to have little opportunity to get any of it.
There's that word again. Opportunity. Look at Mexico. Same thing. Most of South and Central America. Cuba. China. Indonesia. With the exception of Europe, where is ample opportunity besides America? Even comparing Europe and the U.S., the opportunity you have in Europe is taxed to oblivion. Oh, wait. Don't forget about Canada but there again, you're taxed to death!
Only in the U.S do we have the wealth of opportunity so great WE don't really know what to do with it. Opportunity great and small. Opportunity far and wide. Opportunity for education, experience, wealth, leisure, social interaction with your chosen people. Opportunity exists for health, peace, prosperity, information, religion . . . . Even the opportunity to say how much you love it here. Or hate it here.
What saddens me is just how many people who are here, enjoying all of these opportunities (or choosing not to), are so intent on expressing their hatred of it. But what's always more telling than words, as we all know, is action.
These people aren't leaving. When was the last time you heard of a boat full of people drowning en route to Cuba? Illegal (non-criminal) American immigrants in Mexico? People risking their lives and well-being and even their families to get from America to China? Never? Me either.
People stay here. They speak loudly with their actions that frankly, this place is a pretty damn nice place to live. Indeed, it's the nicest place on the planet to live. There is no better place.
You know what else we have the opportunity to do? Change things. We have the opportunity to make changes to everything under the sun and improve everything we see. We get to change out our leaders and get them to do what we want. I don't think there are very many other places in the world where this can be done quite as well as here.
Frankly, I'm impressed with this country. I still believe in it, in spite of it's flaws, in spite of it's weaknesses. I see that even though we frequently waste the opportunities which are so freely given to us by this great country, we still have ample left to go around.
It's a grand thing, isn't it?
--Wag--
Friday, July 04, 2008
Writer's Block
Thank gawd I don't make my living as a writer. I've had a bad bout of writer's block lately. For the last couple of years, eh? Mostly, I can't decide if I want to be funny, which is difficult enough as it is, or if I want to be serious.
My wife told me the other day, "You're funny!"
I responded, "Yeah, but looks aren't everything!"
Ba dum dum.
Commentary is good but all too often, I feel like I'm just reinventing the wheel. I mean, just how many more opinions do we need about global warming, the pending political elections, religion, the crappy economy, etc. We do NOT need another movie reviewer on line, that's for sure.
Funny and sad at the same time: The other day, I bought two new stocks. They both tanked within 5 minutes of being bought. It's as if the other people who owned them were just waiting for me to buy and then all together, they all sold off all at once. I didn't lose a LOT of value but definitely an instantaneous loss.
THAT is a sucky economy. A recession is when your co-worker gets laid off. A depression is when YOU get laid off. Anyone know who originally said that?
Jeez. I'm writing about the economy without prior warning. My apologies. That's what I get for writing at 3:30 am.
I should just go surf for some porn but even that is boring any more. At least it doesn't require conscious thought.
Or just go back to sleep.
G'nite.
--Wag--
My wife told me the other day, "You're funny!"
I responded, "Yeah, but looks aren't everything!"
Ba dum dum.
Commentary is good but all too often, I feel like I'm just reinventing the wheel. I mean, just how many more opinions do we need about global warming, the pending political elections, religion, the crappy economy, etc. We do NOT need another movie reviewer on line, that's for sure.
Funny and sad at the same time: The other day, I bought two new stocks. They both tanked within 5 minutes of being bought. It's as if the other people who owned them were just waiting for me to buy and then all together, they all sold off all at once. I didn't lose a LOT of value but definitely an instantaneous loss.
THAT is a sucky economy. A recession is when your co-worker gets laid off. A depression is when YOU get laid off. Anyone know who originally said that?
Jeez. I'm writing about the economy without prior warning. My apologies. That's what I get for writing at 3:30 am.
I should just go surf for some porn but even that is boring any more. At least it doesn't require conscious thought.
Or just go back to sleep.
G'nite.
--Wag--
Thursday, July 03, 2008
How to attract hot chicks
Posted this elsewhere recently but thought it would fit in well here.
True story which has happened to me on more than a couple of occasions. Details have been changed to protect the innocent.
Scenario is, I'm sitting in my office as I generally do at my job. Nobody has bothered me all day. I'm getting a trainload of work done. 4:00 rolls around and I'm doing well.
All of a sudden, I have to fart, but I'm doing well so I don't want to get up to go outside. Lean over and tear off an SBD. It's a rank mutha, too.
Almost like there was a director in a crappy comedy movie making this production, the hot chick from marketing walks in and needs to discuss something that A) could have waited till next month to give the air time to clear or B) it's too damn late for the discussion to do any damn good at all. It's worth mentioning that marketing personnel ALWAYS call me on the phone for such discussions because their building is a half mile or so away from ours.
In the meantime, the SBD continues to scream its presence. There is no way you could miss it. She doesn't say a thing and keeps a straight face. I work hard to extend the discussion as long as possible both because she has great hooters but also because I shouldn't have to suffer with the fumes all by myself.
Sooooo, since this happens over and over again I can only assume that farts attract hot chicks. In fact, I'm beginning to hypothesize that farts can actually breach time and space and teleport hot chicks right to your side. Further testing is required.
Try it some time! Keep some Febreze nearby.
--Wag--
True story which has happened to me on more than a couple of occasions. Details have been changed to protect the innocent.
Scenario is, I'm sitting in my office as I generally do at my job. Nobody has bothered me all day. I'm getting a trainload of work done. 4:00 rolls around and I'm doing well.
All of a sudden, I have to fart, but I'm doing well so I don't want to get up to go outside. Lean over and tear off an SBD. It's a rank mutha, too.
Almost like there was a director in a crappy comedy movie making this production, the hot chick from marketing walks in and needs to discuss something that A) could have waited till next month to give the air time to clear or B) it's too damn late for the discussion to do any damn good at all. It's worth mentioning that marketing personnel ALWAYS call me on the phone for such discussions because their building is a half mile or so away from ours.
In the meantime, the SBD continues to scream its presence. There is no way you could miss it. She doesn't say a thing and keeps a straight face. I work hard to extend the discussion as long as possible both because she has great hooters but also because I shouldn't have to suffer with the fumes all by myself.
Sooooo, since this happens over and over again I can only assume that farts attract hot chicks. In fact, I'm beginning to hypothesize that farts can actually breach time and space and teleport hot chicks right to your side. Further testing is required.
Try it some time! Keep some Febreze nearby.
--Wag--
Friday, January 18, 2008
Biker T-shirts
Check out this site for Bike T-shirts! Motorcycle t-shirts, that is!
Great service, fast delivery if you want it and you won't come away dissatisfied. Of course, I get shirts and hoodies with my Busa logo on them but they have stuff for all bike brands.
Enjoy!
--Wag--
Yes, the site is owned by the guy who runs the Busa Board I use all the time. Nice guy and you'll love the product!
Great service, fast delivery if you want it and you won't come away dissatisfied. Of course, I get shirts and hoodies with my Busa logo on them but they have stuff for all bike brands.
Enjoy!
--Wag--
Yes, the site is owned by the guy who runs the Busa Board I use all the time. Nice guy and you'll love the product!
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Frightening movies. I don't think so.
I'm using the movie series, Saw as an example here because it should still be fairly recent in everyone's minds and because the fourth part is about to hit the theaters. Bear in mind, I don't have a whole lot of problem with gore in movies. It's easy for me to remember it ain't real and it just rolls right over me. Really, it does. (Gore in real life is a different story, however but that's a topic for another time.)
The real terror of a movie is in the building of suspense and the threat of something freaky or evil or dangerous being about to happen. Look at The Ring or Ju On (or The Grudge). At least, as long as the potential victim of same is not being so utterly stupid as to make you laugh instead of jump in your chair and toss your popcorn on your date. Hollywood film makers forget what normal people are apt to do, even aside from the armchair directors in the theaters. Bottom line is, a scary movie needs to make you think pretty hard for a while after you walk out into the lobby.
I've digressed overly much. Back to the Saw series. And yes, there are a couple of spoilers so if you've not seen it, don't blame me for not warning you. Or maybe you'll read this because you're not going to go see it! In that case, you'll still be disappointed because I'm not really going to disclose so much.
The first Saw was a very nice Hitchcockian suspense flick. There was gore and such but it was incidental; not the focus of the movie. I mean, even though there was a dead guy in the middle of the room in a pool of his own blood, how could you possibly forget that the only way those two captives could get loose was if they were willing to saw off their own foot? Very easy to put yourself in that position, wondering what you would do if you were in that situation and feel a cold chill go up and down your spine.
Add to that the suspense built by the possibility that the two guys may have had a connection which could have caused one to kill the other even though they should be working together to escape, a time limit to figure out how to escape and a half dozen other sub plots equally horrifying and really, the gore is of little consequence, even when the one guy actually does cut his foot off in order to escape. (Just a thought here, the music at this point was absolutely PERFECT!)
The second movie added a bunch of gore but still had a degree of the suspense that the first one had. You could easily go, "good grief," at some of the excessive gore but after all was said and done, it was still pretty decent. The rats-trapped-in-a-maze theme was a little overdone in my opinion but the puzzles were creative enough to take the, "hokey malokey," out of it.
The third installment made the gore the primary focus of the flick and while the story still sort of carried pretty well, it was splattered upon overly much by blood and guts. In short, it was crap. It might have been the kind of thing that would make people look away but it didn't add to my enjoyment of the movie and sure didn't scare anyone.
To be fair, they created and then answered some questions linked to the first movie so that was pretty decent of them. Still, by the end of the movie, I was done with gore-centric flicks. No more desire to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre which was released right about then, no desire to see The Hills Have Eyes 2 (yes, I saw the first one), no urge to get out to rent Hostel and then watch Hostel 2. Now, in place of the urge to see good scary movies, I prefer instead to avoid the gore-focused movies and be more selective with my scary movie selections. The have to be truly scary now. It's just hard to tell, really until you're sitting in the theater.
The fourth one? Jury's still out on it but if they continue the trend, it's going to be a loser just like the third one. I doubt I'll watch it. I may go see it just because I saw the first three but essentially, I'm done with movie makers who can't stay focused on the story, the plot, or just don't really have the skills it takes to make a great frightener.
The new Halloween movie, now, there is a GREAT horror flick! Kudos to Rob Zombie for that one. Well done even if you didn't really care for it.
--Wag--
The real terror of a movie is in the building of suspense and the threat of something freaky or evil or dangerous being about to happen. Look at The Ring or Ju On (or The Grudge). At least, as long as the potential victim of same is not being so utterly stupid as to make you laugh instead of jump in your chair and toss your popcorn on your date. Hollywood film makers forget what normal people are apt to do, even aside from the armchair directors in the theaters. Bottom line is, a scary movie needs to make you think pretty hard for a while after you walk out into the lobby.
I've digressed overly much. Back to the Saw series. And yes, there are a couple of spoilers so if you've not seen it, don't blame me for not warning you. Or maybe you'll read this because you're not going to go see it! In that case, you'll still be disappointed because I'm not really going to disclose so much.
The first Saw was a very nice Hitchcockian suspense flick. There was gore and such but it was incidental; not the focus of the movie. I mean, even though there was a dead guy in the middle of the room in a pool of his own blood, how could you possibly forget that the only way those two captives could get loose was if they were willing to saw off their own foot? Very easy to put yourself in that position, wondering what you would do if you were in that situation and feel a cold chill go up and down your spine.
Add to that the suspense built by the possibility that the two guys may have had a connection which could have caused one to kill the other even though they should be working together to escape, a time limit to figure out how to escape and a half dozen other sub plots equally horrifying and really, the gore is of little consequence, even when the one guy actually does cut his foot off in order to escape. (Just a thought here, the music at this point was absolutely PERFECT!)
The second movie added a bunch of gore but still had a degree of the suspense that the first one had. You could easily go, "good grief," at some of the excessive gore but after all was said and done, it was still pretty decent. The rats-trapped-in-a-maze theme was a little overdone in my opinion but the puzzles were creative enough to take the, "hokey malokey," out of it.
The third installment made the gore the primary focus of the flick and while the story still sort of carried pretty well, it was splattered upon overly much by blood and guts. In short, it was crap. It might have been the kind of thing that would make people look away but it didn't add to my enjoyment of the movie and sure didn't scare anyone.
To be fair, they created and then answered some questions linked to the first movie so that was pretty decent of them. Still, by the end of the movie, I was done with gore-centric flicks. No more desire to see Texas Chainsaw Massacre which was released right about then, no desire to see The Hills Have Eyes 2 (yes, I saw the first one), no urge to get out to rent Hostel and then watch Hostel 2. Now, in place of the urge to see good scary movies, I prefer instead to avoid the gore-focused movies and be more selective with my scary movie selections. The have to be truly scary now. It's just hard to tell, really until you're sitting in the theater.
The fourth one? Jury's still out on it but if they continue the trend, it's going to be a loser just like the third one. I doubt I'll watch it. I may go see it just because I saw the first three but essentially, I'm done with movie makers who can't stay focused on the story, the plot, or just don't really have the skills it takes to make a great frightener.
The new Halloween movie, now, there is a GREAT horror flick! Kudos to Rob Zombie for that one. Well done even if you didn't really care for it.
--Wag--
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Miscellaneous crap
Sometimes, I'm on. Other times, I go a fairly long while before writing. I was reading through some of the posts a moment ago and realized, I used to write some funny stuff. Funny to me, anyway. Lately, though, the crap I'm putting up here hasn't been funny any more. Too serious. Am I losing my sense of humor? Did I ever have one in the first place? Does anyone give a rat's ass? If you do, worry about yourself. Your life is too small!
What the hell. I'm enjoying my life. My wife and I were talking about that the other day. We're plenty happy, really. We have what we want. Steady wage, house, two motorcycles we love riding, the vehicles we need in order to get around. Good news, too. We saved a bunch of money on our insurance by switching to . . .
. . . Farm Bureau. Yup. 30% per year for all four vehicles and our homeowners policy.
Niiiiiiiice!!!
Well, we're not independently wealthy yet but we're moving that direction. I think. It's going to be a while, of course. Patience is a virtue in such things. Of course, financial brains would help, too. Anyone have a supplier for that?
I'm cruising down on my 42nd birthday in about three weeks. No, EXACTLY three weeks.
Dayum!!!!
Well, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't feel old. Well, I have to use reading glasses a lot of the time now. No big deal. But as for the rest of me? It's all still working quite well. I feel that I'm still in my prime. I should go get a degree, though. The most discouraging thing about it, though, is that all my school credits are too old to transfer now. I'll likely have to take them all again.
BUT. That may mean it's a perfect time for me to change careers. 20 years is too long to do the same thing over and over again. Been thinkin' about it for a few days. Okay, a couple of months! I just still haven't figured out what I want to do when I grow up.
Doh!!!
Well, as long as I can keep my luscious, hot wife sleeping with me, probably nothing much else will matter, eh?!
Couldn't sleep tonight. I quit smoking a little over a week ago and it's effing killing me so far. Seems that when I smoke, my immune system gets suppressed. Then, when I stop smoking, my immune system kicks back into high gear and I start feeling the pain of allergies I never knew I had. It sucks, of course. Dammit. I'm on my 9th day now, though, so I'll just have to tough it out some more. I haven't slept well for about the last five or six days which explains why I'm up at 1:30am typing this up even though I have to work tomorrow.
Don't start smoking. If you do, you'll want to quit some day and it might kill ya!!!
For some reason, that's funny to me. Go figure.
Cheers to all y'all!
--Wag--
What the hell. I'm enjoying my life. My wife and I were talking about that the other day. We're plenty happy, really. We have what we want. Steady wage, house, two motorcycles we love riding, the vehicles we need in order to get around. Good news, too. We saved a bunch of money on our insurance by switching to . . .
. . . Farm Bureau. Yup. 30% per year for all four vehicles and our homeowners policy.
Niiiiiiiice!!!
Well, we're not independently wealthy yet but we're moving that direction. I think. It's going to be a while, of course. Patience is a virtue in such things. Of course, financial brains would help, too. Anyone have a supplier for that?
I'm cruising down on my 42nd birthday in about three weeks. No, EXACTLY three weeks.
Dayum!!!!
Well, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I don't feel old. Well, I have to use reading glasses a lot of the time now. No big deal. But as for the rest of me? It's all still working quite well. I feel that I'm still in my prime. I should go get a degree, though. The most discouraging thing about it, though, is that all my school credits are too old to transfer now. I'll likely have to take them all again.
BUT. That may mean it's a perfect time for me to change careers. 20 years is too long to do the same thing over and over again. Been thinkin' about it for a few days. Okay, a couple of months! I just still haven't figured out what I want to do when I grow up.
Doh!!!
Well, as long as I can keep my luscious, hot wife sleeping with me, probably nothing much else will matter, eh?!
Couldn't sleep tonight. I quit smoking a little over a week ago and it's effing killing me so far. Seems that when I smoke, my immune system gets suppressed. Then, when I stop smoking, my immune system kicks back into high gear and I start feeling the pain of allergies I never knew I had. It sucks, of course. Dammit. I'm on my 9th day now, though, so I'll just have to tough it out some more. I haven't slept well for about the last five or six days which explains why I'm up at 1:30am typing this up even though I have to work tomorrow.
Don't start smoking. If you do, you'll want to quit some day and it might kill ya!!!
For some reason, that's funny to me. Go figure.
Cheers to all y'all!
--Wag--
Sunday, July 29, 2007
What's the difference?
What's the difference between Muslim terrorists and Christian or other fanatical religious terrorists?
I've been told, though I haven't read it myself, that the Quran directs its followers (Muslims) to kill all infidels.
But the Bible, especially the Old Testament, preaches the same thing, really. Read, the following (For this reference, thank you to The Dark Bible, found at http://www.nobeliefs.com/DarkBible/)
Of course, Christians like to say that Jesus did away with such things when he brought forth a new way of life, a better belief. If that's the case, why is the Old Testament still attached to the New Testament?
Christianity at heart is not that much different from Islam.
o-Both would like to kill you for not believing as they do, at least historically
o-Both would like to force you to believe as they do
o-Both would like you to give up your life for their particular god
o-Both look down on believers of other faiths as inferior peoples (infidels and heretics)
o-Both are uninterested in your opinion
o-Both would like to prohibit you from even expressing or thinking your opinion
The list could go on, of course. I'll give Judaism credit, though. They aren't promoting the deaths of others because of differing beliefs any more insofar as I've heard lately. Frankly, they don't seem to be saying a lot about what to do with unbelievers at all these days. Good on them.
Soooooo, what's the difference? Not much, really. What I mean is, when you strip away the professed litanies of doctrine and their teachings, the activities of both are geared toward one thing only: They look forward to the sterilization of the world in order to make it 100% Christian. Or 100% Islam.
Come to think of it, I get the idea that they are the only two major world religions who still believe in such a thing.
--Wag--
I've been told, though I haven't read it myself, that the Quran directs its followers (Muslims) to kill all infidels.
But the Bible, especially the Old Testament, preaches the same thing, really. Read, the following (For this reference, thank you to The Dark Bible, found at http://www.nobeliefs.com/DarkBible/)
"If thy brother, the son of thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is as thine own soul, entice thee secretly, saying, Let us go and serve other gods, which thou hast not known, thou, nor thy fathers;" (Deuteronomy 13: 6)
"Thou shalt not consent unto him, nor hearken unto him; neither shall thine eye pity him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him: But thou shalt surely kill him; thine hand shall be first upon him to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people." (Deuteronomy 13:8-9)
Of course, the Old Testament is full of stories of how the followers of Moses spent a great deal of energy engaging in fierce genocide against those were were considered unbelievers.Of course, Christians like to say that Jesus did away with such things when he brought forth a new way of life, a better belief. If that's the case, why is the Old Testament still attached to the New Testament?
Christianity at heart is not that much different from Islam.
o-Both would like to kill you for not believing as they do, at least historically
o-Both would like to force you to believe as they do
o-Both would like you to give up your life for their particular god
o-Both look down on believers of other faiths as inferior peoples (infidels and heretics)
o-Both are uninterested in your opinion
o-Both would like to prohibit you from even expressing or thinking your opinion
The list could go on, of course. I'll give Judaism credit, though. They aren't promoting the deaths of others because of differing beliefs any more insofar as I've heard lately. Frankly, they don't seem to be saying a lot about what to do with unbelievers at all these days. Good on them.
Soooooo, what's the difference? Not much, really. What I mean is, when you strip away the professed litanies of doctrine and their teachings, the activities of both are geared toward one thing only: They look forward to the sterilization of the world in order to make it 100% Christian. Or 100% Islam.
Come to think of it, I get the idea that they are the only two major world religions who still believe in such a thing.
--Wag--
Friday, June 01, 2007
Saying goodbye
How much do you love someone?
Is it hard to say goodbye?
But you know you'll see them again,
You just don't know when.
How about when you know,
It's the last goodbye?
When you know you'll never
See them again. Ever.
She had cancer and she had had it
For quite a while.
You could tell; and it had done its evil
Something you could feel.
We said goodbye. She knew and I knew
This was going to be the last time
We looked into each others' eyes and cried
We laughed with each other at our happier memories.
We hoped things were going to turn around but,
We both knew the end was in sight.
It wasn't possible to deny.
I looked deep into her eyes, those eyes had taught me,
The meaning of the literary term,
"A twinkle in the eye."
I knew I'd never see it again.
I held her close as we prepared to part for the last time.
Tears from from her eyes to my chest and
From my eyes to her skin
Our bodies shook together with sobbing
We became one in our sorrow
But we were one in our happy memories of the
Beauty of our friendship, the happiness we had had
For all those years and for all those smiles.
As we parted ways, we cried.
We knew each others' sorrow, felt each others' pain
Suffered each others' suffering
But we smiled as we knew the other smiled
And our hearts began to share with one another.
She still lives in me. My memories of her will endure
Forever and ever.
--Wag--
Is it hard to say goodbye?
But you know you'll see them again,
You just don't know when.
How about when you know,
It's the last goodbye?
When you know you'll never
See them again. Ever.
She had cancer and she had had it
For quite a while.
You could tell; and it had done its evil
Something you could feel.
We said goodbye. She knew and I knew
This was going to be the last time
We looked into each others' eyes and cried
We laughed with each other at our happier memories.
We hoped things were going to turn around but,
We both knew the end was in sight.
It wasn't possible to deny.
I looked deep into her eyes, those eyes had taught me,
The meaning of the literary term,
"A twinkle in the eye."
I knew I'd never see it again.
I held her close as we prepared to part for the last time.
Tears from from her eyes to my chest and
From my eyes to her skin
Our bodies shook together with sobbing
We became one in our sorrow
But we were one in our happy memories of the
Beauty of our friendship, the happiness we had had
For all those years and for all those smiles.
As we parted ways, we cried.
We knew each others' sorrow, felt each others' pain
Suffered each others' suffering
But we smiled as we knew the other smiled
And our hearts began to share with one another.
She still lives in me. My memories of her will endure
Forever and ever.
--Wag--
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
The Farmer
Story
One spring, a farmer went out and plowed his fields and planted his corn. The rain came; he fertilized and irrigated. The corn sprouted and grew. It was doing well, growing and flourishing. A few weeks later, though, the farmer began to become impatient. He wanted his corn now. RIGHT now.
Impatient beyond belief, he plowed the cornfield under and the next day, planted wheat. Again, the rains were sufficient and the farmer cared for his new crop. It was doing very well but again, impatience set in. A few days later, the farmer plowed under his newly-sprouted wheat and planted potatoes.
Over the rest of the summer and fall, the farmer repeatedly planted and plowed and planted and plowed until the end of the summer when his last crop, his tomato plants, died in the cold of the frost. The farmer had nothing. In spite of his hard work, in spite of doing nearly everything right and despite the perfect weather of the perfect summer, he had nothing to show for it all.
It was a long, cold, and very hungry winter.
Moral
If you have everything under the sun going perfectly for you, you still need patience.
Discussion
How many times have you worked for a company which had good policies but kept changing them over and over again? How many times have you seen your friends or family change jobs over and over and over again? Each time, they have to start over and begin with nothing again.
My father was that kind of man. The rate of changes for his jobs became so numerous that by the end, he was changing jobs nearly every month or even faster. He attempted to start several businesses in succession but never worked any of them to fruition. He signed up for several MLM's only to abandon them shortly afterward. Over time, he destroyed his ability to accumulate money, to acquire knowledge, to gain experience, to retire well.
Instead, he died penniless and without self-respect.
But he was a brilliant man, intellectually. Competent and capable in many areas. There is some evidence which suggests that he may have had ADHD and possibly, that interfered with his ability to remain pointed toward a goal's achievement.
Regardless of why, the object lesson is that it takes time to accomplish things. If something is planned and set into motion it will not happen overnight. But it will happen if it is given the proper time along with all other good things.
I realize there are other variables in real life but the thought experiment succeeds in a fashion which illustrates the need for focus on an end result.
After the planning is done, the growth begins.
Any comments?
--Wag--
One spring, a farmer went out and plowed his fields and planted his corn. The rain came; he fertilized and irrigated. The corn sprouted and grew. It was doing well, growing and flourishing. A few weeks later, though, the farmer began to become impatient. He wanted his corn now. RIGHT now.
Impatient beyond belief, he plowed the cornfield under and the next day, planted wheat. Again, the rains were sufficient and the farmer cared for his new crop. It was doing very well but again, impatience set in. A few days later, the farmer plowed under his newly-sprouted wheat and planted potatoes.
Over the rest of the summer and fall, the farmer repeatedly planted and plowed and planted and plowed until the end of the summer when his last crop, his tomato plants, died in the cold of the frost. The farmer had nothing. In spite of his hard work, in spite of doing nearly everything right and despite the perfect weather of the perfect summer, he had nothing to show for it all.
It was a long, cold, and very hungry winter.
Moral
If you have everything under the sun going perfectly for you, you still need patience.
Discussion
How many times have you worked for a company which had good policies but kept changing them over and over again? How many times have you seen your friends or family change jobs over and over and over again? Each time, they have to start over and begin with nothing again.
My father was that kind of man. The rate of changes for his jobs became so numerous that by the end, he was changing jobs nearly every month or even faster. He attempted to start several businesses in succession but never worked any of them to fruition. He signed up for several MLM's only to abandon them shortly afterward. Over time, he destroyed his ability to accumulate money, to acquire knowledge, to gain experience, to retire well.
Instead, he died penniless and without self-respect.
But he was a brilliant man, intellectually. Competent and capable in many areas. There is some evidence which suggests that he may have had ADHD and possibly, that interfered with his ability to remain pointed toward a goal's achievement.
Regardless of why, the object lesson is that it takes time to accomplish things. If something is planned and set into motion it will not happen overnight. But it will happen if it is given the proper time along with all other good things.
I realize there are other variables in real life but the thought experiment succeeds in a fashion which illustrates the need for focus on an end result.
After the planning is done, the growth begins.
Any comments?
--Wag--
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Load yourself up!
As a kind of corollary to the post below about efficiencies of organizations with lots of people, I was thinking back on the days when I was most efficient.
Simply put, the more shit I have to do, the more I can get done and the better I get it done.
It's about focus and intensity, I think. When I was working 50 hours a week and taking 18 units in school, I got straight A's and got great reviews at the office. I got everything done, too. That's the amazing part of it.
At times when I didn't have the workload, I got less done. Free time, for some reason, doesn't have the impact on me that lack of time does. Don't get me wrong; I've overloaded from time to time and done poorly. Likewise, there have been times when I had a lot of free time and got a lot done.
There's just something about the urgency of several pressing needs drawing your attention and forcing you to be efficient, organized and to prioritize effectively.
--Wag--
Simply put, the more shit I have to do, the more I can get done and the better I get it done.
It's about focus and intensity, I think. When I was working 50 hours a week and taking 18 units in school, I got straight A's and got great reviews at the office. I got everything done, too. That's the amazing part of it.
At times when I didn't have the workload, I got less done. Free time, for some reason, doesn't have the impact on me that lack of time does. Don't get me wrong; I've overloaded from time to time and done poorly. Likewise, there have been times when I had a lot of free time and got a lot done.
There's just something about the urgency of several pressing needs drawing your attention and forcing you to be efficient, organized and to prioritize effectively.
--Wag--
Pessimism
Is pessimism a defense mechanism? The HR director at my new job asserted that it is.
People who are pessimists don't run the risk of getting hurt by plans gone awry. I suppose that if they believe things will go badly and then things DO go badly, they are not disappointed. They may fear that if they hope for something good to happen and it does not, they have to deal with the problem of how to confront the disappointment. Of course, that requires effort. It requires thought and work.
Are pessmists just too lazy to confront their disappointments in a productive way? I leave that to others more intelligent than I to decide.
Pessimists and optimists are born, not created. Look around you. There are those who are optimists in spite of any string of bad luck or in spite of their circumstances. Maybe it's the optimists who are lazy 'cause they don't take the time to review the real horror of their situation! Figure THAT one out, eh?! There are plenty of people who are in dire straits but they're still smiley and still happy. A pessimist would say, "What the hell for? There's no point to it." An optimist would say the same thing about a pessimist, of course!
Still, the pessimist has a good defense mechanism. Just assume everything is fucked and you'll be right quite a bit of the time.
On the other hand, an optimist can look at all the same problems in their lives and assume that everything is still pretty good, okay, and all right and better yet, they're going to improve at any moment!
Gotta love that!
Now and then, you'll see an optimist who has lived with let-downs for an exceptionally long time and they start to exhibit some of the behaviors of the pessimist for a while. But as soon as circumstances improve, they are right back to their usual optimistic self. The pessimist, on the other hand, waits for things to go to hell in a handbasket, of course.
I was born an optimist and raised in a pessimistic envrionment. I learned all the right behaviors of a pessimist. Over the last few years as I've gotten out of that environment, I've been able to realize that maybe I'm an optimist after all. I should rephrase though. I THINK I'm an optimist. The jury is still out on it! We'll see what the verdict is if my life goes to shit for some reason!
--Wag--
People who are pessimists don't run the risk of getting hurt by plans gone awry. I suppose that if they believe things will go badly and then things DO go badly, they are not disappointed. They may fear that if they hope for something good to happen and it does not, they have to deal with the problem of how to confront the disappointment. Of course, that requires effort. It requires thought and work.
Are pessmists just too lazy to confront their disappointments in a productive way? I leave that to others more intelligent than I to decide.
Pessimists and optimists are born, not created. Look around you. There are those who are optimists in spite of any string of bad luck or in spite of their circumstances. Maybe it's the optimists who are lazy 'cause they don't take the time to review the real horror of their situation! Figure THAT one out, eh?! There are plenty of people who are in dire straits but they're still smiley and still happy. A pessimist would say, "What the hell for? There's no point to it." An optimist would say the same thing about a pessimist, of course!
Still, the pessimist has a good defense mechanism. Just assume everything is fucked and you'll be right quite a bit of the time.
On the other hand, an optimist can look at all the same problems in their lives and assume that everything is still pretty good, okay, and all right and better yet, they're going to improve at any moment!
Gotta love that!
Now and then, you'll see an optimist who has lived with let-downs for an exceptionally long time and they start to exhibit some of the behaviors of the pessimist for a while. But as soon as circumstances improve, they are right back to their usual optimistic self. The pessimist, on the other hand, waits for things to go to hell in a handbasket, of course.
I was born an optimist and raised in a pessimistic envrionment. I learned all the right behaviors of a pessimist. Over the last few years as I've gotten out of that environment, I've been able to realize that maybe I'm an optimist after all. I should rephrase though. I THINK I'm an optimist. The jury is still out on it! We'll see what the verdict is if my life goes to shit for some reason!
--Wag--
New Job
Started a new job on Monday. Nice company, lots of opportunity and potential. I'm looking forward to how it develops in the near and long-term future.
It's a lot bigger company than what I'm used to working in. They have 50 employees and I've been in the habit of working in companies with less than 20 employees. With me, it was always, "The smaller, the better."
After a week at it, I have several observations. One of them is this: With all of the people working there, I find that I and others are hugely burdened with the interruptions of people coming and going and starting extraneous conversations, etc. etc. I find that I have about half as much time to get things done. So far. Also, the burden of communications is increased a great deal which also impairs my ability to get things done.
Here's how it has worked for me in the past. I've always worn several hats due to the small size of the companies I've worked for. I love doing that. I have a lot of power and that translates into an ability to get a lot of things done and get them done quickly. If I put a task on my to do list, it generally only lasts a moment or two because I'm the head of several departments and instead of asking other people questions, I simply answer them myself, tie up the loose ends and move on.
In this larger company, I've discovered that because I have fewer hats to wear, it's more time-consuming to get things answered and resolve the issue at hand. My task list gets a LOT of churning because each task needs to be updated every time something happens to affect that task. Finally, after several trips through the list, a task here and there will pop out which has enough info to finally wrap it up.
Incredible. Different. A learning experience. A challenge in the extreme.
People running around here and there is a problem. Impromptu conversations happen a lot more often and socialization takes up a significant amount of time. Interruptions, both business related and non-business related occur regularly. I'm not 100% sure about others but for myself, if I'm working up to my elbows in a project and I get interrupted, even if it's for a business item, it takes me quite a while to regroup and return to the project when I'm done dealing with the interruption.
So, it got me to thinking: Do business owners and company HR departments attempt to calculate the cost of having MORE employees added to their personnel lists? Is there a cost to having too many employees? Every time you add an employee to your company, are you increasing the amount of time lost to them? What are the costs of more communication interactions between employees?
Are these costs mitigated by narrowly defining the scope of each person's position? If you have a guy whose job is sticking tab A into slot B over and over and over again all day and he only has to interface with one boss, is he going to be the most efficient and effective employee in the company?
Just some basic thoughts. I dont' have a lot of reason to complain about anything just because it's too early in the game to tell. These are just observations generated due to the culture shock I'm experiencing! The reality could just as easily be that I'm having to learn new skills and it's going to just take a little time.
With any luck, I'll come back to this in a year and readdress the questions and the conclusions. I like the long experiments, I just have to remember to follow up!
--Wag--
It's a lot bigger company than what I'm used to working in. They have 50 employees and I've been in the habit of working in companies with less than 20 employees. With me, it was always, "The smaller, the better."
After a week at it, I have several observations. One of them is this: With all of the people working there, I find that I and others are hugely burdened with the interruptions of people coming and going and starting extraneous conversations, etc. etc. I find that I have about half as much time to get things done. So far. Also, the burden of communications is increased a great deal which also impairs my ability to get things done.
Here's how it has worked for me in the past. I've always worn several hats due to the small size of the companies I've worked for. I love doing that. I have a lot of power and that translates into an ability to get a lot of things done and get them done quickly. If I put a task on my to do list, it generally only lasts a moment or two because I'm the head of several departments and instead of asking other people questions, I simply answer them myself, tie up the loose ends and move on.
In this larger company, I've discovered that because I have fewer hats to wear, it's more time-consuming to get things answered and resolve the issue at hand. My task list gets a LOT of churning because each task needs to be updated every time something happens to affect that task. Finally, after several trips through the list, a task here and there will pop out which has enough info to finally wrap it up.
Incredible. Different. A learning experience. A challenge in the extreme.
People running around here and there is a problem. Impromptu conversations happen a lot more often and socialization takes up a significant amount of time. Interruptions, both business related and non-business related occur regularly. I'm not 100% sure about others but for myself, if I'm working up to my elbows in a project and I get interrupted, even if it's for a business item, it takes me quite a while to regroup and return to the project when I'm done dealing with the interruption.
So, it got me to thinking: Do business owners and company HR departments attempt to calculate the cost of having MORE employees added to their personnel lists? Is there a cost to having too many employees? Every time you add an employee to your company, are you increasing the amount of time lost to them? What are the costs of more communication interactions between employees?
Are these costs mitigated by narrowly defining the scope of each person's position? If you have a guy whose job is sticking tab A into slot B over and over and over again all day and he only has to interface with one boss, is he going to be the most efficient and effective employee in the company?
Just some basic thoughts. I dont' have a lot of reason to complain about anything just because it's too early in the game to tell. These are just observations generated due to the culture shock I'm experiencing! The reality could just as easily be that I'm having to learn new skills and it's going to just take a little time.
With any luck, I'll come back to this in a year and readdress the questions and the conclusions. I like the long experiments, I just have to remember to follow up!
--Wag--
Monday, December 25, 2006
A retelling of a story
In response to a post on another forum by a respected Christian believer, I wrote the following story. It's a fresher version of my deconversion out of religion about 8 years ago and it has a cleaner feel along with a more broad application.
Just some thoughts.
--Wag--
-----------------------------------------
I find it truly appealing that we as potential opposition can discuss religion without getting flaming mad at each other and remaining friends at the other end of such discussion. At least, I hope that's the case. I have a great deal of respect for you, Ron, and for others here who have been so patient and collected during these discussions of their beliefs.
I recall at about age 7 or 8 I was first taught about the flood and Noah's miraculous escape. That is my first memory of doubting religion. (I was only given a Mormon perspective of it but for that particular story, it was a fair and comparable version to that which is told by Judeo-Christian religions and sects everywhere.) I just couldn't see it. The world is a big place. How did ALL of the pairs of animals get on the ark? Was it really THAT big? Then, I read it a little closer and discovered that only the unclean animals were in pairs. The clean animals were sent seven pairs each! Talk about making the problem worse!
My boat of belief was really foundering. I asked my parents who said, "Have faith and in time, god will reveal the secret of that mystery to you." To me, though, faith meant searching for the answer and showing one's seriousness and devotion by doing so. I continued to ask around. One of my teachers at church suggested that the flood was regional and didn't encompass the entire earth, just the local area. That made a little sense but didn't quite jive with the written word as I understood it. I filed the idea away as a possibility for later reference.
I went back to my parents a couple of times. They didn't know the answers to my questions but wouldn't say so. After only a couple of rounds, they finally got frustrated (read that, "angry") with me and told me to keep my peace. I learned to keep my mouth shut and have a care when asking questions or challenging certain religious teachings of which I had doubt. There were several: The virgin birth (the Mormon answer to THAT is wild!!), the adventures of Moses, the miracles of Jesus and Paul, etc.
As I grew up and left home, I continued to wonder and ask questions here and there but the habit of my childhood was to accept everything on faith and to not challenge the teachings of my childhood. I really wanted to believe. I wanted to believe that god was ever present in my life. Indeed, Mormonism taught that you can actually KNOW by god's influence that he is there in our lives.
That, then, was always the critical test: Pray and know. Throughout my entire life for as long as I could remember, I had been doing exactly that: Praying to know. No answer had been forthcoming by the time I was 34 or so years old. Again, parents and teachers kept telling me that in god's due time, I would get my answers from the spirit of god. All around me though, friends and family were getting THEIR answers, where was mine?
I think any belief I might have had began to die a slow death as people suggested that perhaps I was too sinful and needed to repent. Suggestions began to come forth from people indicating that perhaps I was not reading the scriptures enough or not praying and fasting enough or that I had too many contentious relationships with people which were unresolved or that I wasn't paying my tithing diligently or . . . .
The list was pretty long but it boiled down to the idea that I was not righteous enough to get a testimony of the truth from god. I wanted it, though, and I struggled ever more and more all the time to get that answer.
Finally, at one point, a book I read cut it loose for me: It was NOT me that was the problem. God was there for the sinner, not the righteous and that if anyone deserved his spiritual testament it was me but not because of anything I was doing or not doing. Simply because I was one of his children. That book made it clear that Jesus was not waiting for me to do anything in particular except for one thing: To have faith.
If I had felt I ever had faith before, I was mistaken. At that moment, belief coupled with faith swelled in my heart and soul to the point that I believed with all my soul that I was going to be given my answers by god and Jesus right then and I immediately hit my knees in prayer, fully expecting to get the answer I had sought throughout my life.
Nothing.
I continued to pray. Still nothing. For an entire day, I was on my knees, praying to know, praying for greater faith and belief. It was not about Mormonism any more, it was about Jesus and about god. Still nothing. At the end of that day, I arose with a belief that there was no god. I hadn't expected god to speak to me with thunder and lightning. Indeed, I had no expectations on how he would answer my prayer. But I believed with all my heart that if god answered me, there would be no doubt remaining in my heart and soul about what god and Jesus were all about and what their intentions are for me.
This next part is the most important part of my story:
I stood up from those prayers with greater doubt than I had ever had before. For a brief moment, I was angry. Angry at my life, my parents, my religion, my religious teachers, the rest of my family; pretty much everyone I had trusted throughout my life.
That anger lasted for the blink of an eye. In the next blink of an eye, I became an atheist and all of my anger dissappeared. Why be angry at a god who isn't there? The feeling of peace that washed over me was the spiritual experience I had been seeking all of my life. The description of it matched what I had always had taught would happen to me by true believers, both within my childhood religion of Mormonism and by those who had taught me from a true Christian faith. (Yes, I do know the difference! :D)
THAT was the spiritual experience I had sought for so very long. All of my anger, my guilt and my fears were gone and ever have been since that time about 8 years ago. The feeling is barely describable and at that time was when I realized that I had been chasing someone else's dream.
I went on a crusade. There was a short time there when I went on the attack and was truly militant toward religions of all types but especially Mormonism and Christianity. I said quite a few hurtful things to people though fortunately, it was possible to work to repair that damage. My tirade lasted for about three months or so.
One day I was reading a book by Carl Sagan and getting heated up about a lot of things he was saying. Two thirds of the way through it, I realized all at once that I was becoming again what I thought I had left behind. I realized I was becoming dogmatic and chauvenistic about my atheism more than I had been about religion!!!
I consider myself very fortunate that I was able to stop and realize that the most important thing in life is our loved ones. Our friends and our families are our highest priority and other people come very close to that priority as well, just because they are all human beings. (No, it doesn't mean we become indisciriminately open to people without thought and with only emotiion but that's a subject for another time.)
In other words, what life is all about is the people around us. How we treat people in this life is the most important aspect of what we will ever do. Indeed, that belief is also taught by many religions.
I also realized at that point that open-mindedness is a critical factor. I resolved to stay open-minded about the things people try to teach me. (Again, that does not mean that we have to indiscriminately take in everything and incorporate it. It could drive a man crazy.) It did mean, however, that any well-conceived teaching was well-worth consideration. Not the ramblings of mindless idiots, don't get me wrong. I don't believe that all Christians are fools at all. I do run into Christian fools from time to time but I run into just as many atheist fools, Buddhist fools, Wiccan fools, etc. etc.
By the same token, there are just as many intelligent people within all of these beliefs to whom it is well worth the time it takes to listen.
I spent about two years taking in various teachings from a lot of different people, many who are preachers and teachers within their religions. They are devoted followers or practitioners and deserving of the respect of any of us. They have yet to be convincing to me, however. As we talk, they have yet to move me.
Still, I keep my eyes open. I no longer spend time looking under the rocks and in the holes. I no longer go out into the field seeking answers. But I watch. I listen and I carefully consider the possibility that there COULD be a god and there COULD be a sacrifice that was made for me by Jesus.
There have been many comments made here on this board and elsewhere which serve to keep my mind open on the subject of the existence of god. I still read to see where they go and how they approach. To see if there is the possibility that I'm wrong and they are right. Thus far, as I said, I'm still unconvinced but rest assured, I'm not switched off to the possibilities! There is still a chance, at least in my mind, that perhaps some day someone will say something that changes my mind.
Until that day comes, however, I remain an atheist. However, I am still devoted to the idea that people are the most important aspect of our lives and that all peope deserve a fair shot. Of course, I go off from time to time but not as much as I used to and I surely work to keep that from happening as much as I possibly can.
Beyond this point, my story will become a ramble so I sign off from writing this now. There is more, of course, and there are always more questions from religious adherents and I'm always open to answering those beliefs in the full expectation that open-mindedness is something that is needful for all of us.
My best,
--Wag--
Just some thoughts.
--Wag--
-----------------------------------------
I find it truly appealing that we as potential opposition can discuss religion without getting flaming mad at each other and remaining friends at the other end of such discussion. At least, I hope that's the case. I have a great deal of respect for you, Ron, and for others here who have been so patient and collected during these discussions of their beliefs.
I recall at about age 7 or 8 I was first taught about the flood and Noah's miraculous escape. That is my first memory of doubting religion. (I was only given a Mormon perspective of it but for that particular story, it was a fair and comparable version to that which is told by Judeo-Christian religions and sects everywhere.) I just couldn't see it. The world is a big place. How did ALL of the pairs of animals get on the ark? Was it really THAT big? Then, I read it a little closer and discovered that only the unclean animals were in pairs. The clean animals were sent seven pairs each! Talk about making the problem worse!
My boat of belief was really foundering. I asked my parents who said, "Have faith and in time, god will reveal the secret of that mystery to you." To me, though, faith meant searching for the answer and showing one's seriousness and devotion by doing so. I continued to ask around. One of my teachers at church suggested that the flood was regional and didn't encompass the entire earth, just the local area. That made a little sense but didn't quite jive with the written word as I understood it. I filed the idea away as a possibility for later reference.
I went back to my parents a couple of times. They didn't know the answers to my questions but wouldn't say so. After only a couple of rounds, they finally got frustrated (read that, "angry") with me and told me to keep my peace. I learned to keep my mouth shut and have a care when asking questions or challenging certain religious teachings of which I had doubt. There were several: The virgin birth (the Mormon answer to THAT is wild!!), the adventures of Moses, the miracles of Jesus and Paul, etc.
As I grew up and left home, I continued to wonder and ask questions here and there but the habit of my childhood was to accept everything on faith and to not challenge the teachings of my childhood. I really wanted to believe. I wanted to believe that god was ever present in my life. Indeed, Mormonism taught that you can actually KNOW by god's influence that he is there in our lives.
That, then, was always the critical test: Pray and know. Throughout my entire life for as long as I could remember, I had been doing exactly that: Praying to know. No answer had been forthcoming by the time I was 34 or so years old. Again, parents and teachers kept telling me that in god's due time, I would get my answers from the spirit of god. All around me though, friends and family were getting THEIR answers, where was mine?
I think any belief I might have had began to die a slow death as people suggested that perhaps I was too sinful and needed to repent. Suggestions began to come forth from people indicating that perhaps I was not reading the scriptures enough or not praying and fasting enough or that I had too many contentious relationships with people which were unresolved or that I wasn't paying my tithing diligently or . . . .
The list was pretty long but it boiled down to the idea that I was not righteous enough to get a testimony of the truth from god. I wanted it, though, and I struggled ever more and more all the time to get that answer.
Finally, at one point, a book I read cut it loose for me: It was NOT me that was the problem. God was there for the sinner, not the righteous and that if anyone deserved his spiritual testament it was me but not because of anything I was doing or not doing. Simply because I was one of his children. That book made it clear that Jesus was not waiting for me to do anything in particular except for one thing: To have faith.
If I had felt I ever had faith before, I was mistaken. At that moment, belief coupled with faith swelled in my heart and soul to the point that I believed with all my soul that I was going to be given my answers by god and Jesus right then and I immediately hit my knees in prayer, fully expecting to get the answer I had sought throughout my life.
Nothing.
I continued to pray. Still nothing. For an entire day, I was on my knees, praying to know, praying for greater faith and belief. It was not about Mormonism any more, it was about Jesus and about god. Still nothing. At the end of that day, I arose with a belief that there was no god. I hadn't expected god to speak to me with thunder and lightning. Indeed, I had no expectations on how he would answer my prayer. But I believed with all my heart that if god answered me, there would be no doubt remaining in my heart and soul about what god and Jesus were all about and what their intentions are for me.
This next part is the most important part of my story:
I stood up from those prayers with greater doubt than I had ever had before. For a brief moment, I was angry. Angry at my life, my parents, my religion, my religious teachers, the rest of my family; pretty much everyone I had trusted throughout my life.
That anger lasted for the blink of an eye. In the next blink of an eye, I became an atheist and all of my anger dissappeared. Why be angry at a god who isn't there? The feeling of peace that washed over me was the spiritual experience I had been seeking all of my life. The description of it matched what I had always had taught would happen to me by true believers, both within my childhood religion of Mormonism and by those who had taught me from a true Christian faith. (Yes, I do know the difference! :D)
THAT was the spiritual experience I had sought for so very long. All of my anger, my guilt and my fears were gone and ever have been since that time about 8 years ago. The feeling is barely describable and at that time was when I realized that I had been chasing someone else's dream.
I went on a crusade. There was a short time there when I went on the attack and was truly militant toward religions of all types but especially Mormonism and Christianity. I said quite a few hurtful things to people though fortunately, it was possible to work to repair that damage. My tirade lasted for about three months or so.
One day I was reading a book by Carl Sagan and getting heated up about a lot of things he was saying. Two thirds of the way through it, I realized all at once that I was becoming again what I thought I had left behind. I realized I was becoming dogmatic and chauvenistic about my atheism more than I had been about religion!!!
I consider myself very fortunate that I was able to stop and realize that the most important thing in life is our loved ones. Our friends and our families are our highest priority and other people come very close to that priority as well, just because they are all human beings. (No, it doesn't mean we become indisciriminately open to people without thought and with only emotiion but that's a subject for another time.)
In other words, what life is all about is the people around us. How we treat people in this life is the most important aspect of what we will ever do. Indeed, that belief is also taught by many religions.
I also realized at that point that open-mindedness is a critical factor. I resolved to stay open-minded about the things people try to teach me. (Again, that does not mean that we have to indiscriminately take in everything and incorporate it. It could drive a man crazy.) It did mean, however, that any well-conceived teaching was well-worth consideration. Not the ramblings of mindless idiots, don't get me wrong. I don't believe that all Christians are fools at all. I do run into Christian fools from time to time but I run into just as many atheist fools, Buddhist fools, Wiccan fools, etc. etc.
By the same token, there are just as many intelligent people within all of these beliefs to whom it is well worth the time it takes to listen.
I spent about two years taking in various teachings from a lot of different people, many who are preachers and teachers within their religions. They are devoted followers or practitioners and deserving of the respect of any of us. They have yet to be convincing to me, however. As we talk, they have yet to move me.
Still, I keep my eyes open. I no longer spend time looking under the rocks and in the holes. I no longer go out into the field seeking answers. But I watch. I listen and I carefully consider the possibility that there COULD be a god and there COULD be a sacrifice that was made for me by Jesus.
There have been many comments made here on this board and elsewhere which serve to keep my mind open on the subject of the existence of god. I still read to see where they go and how they approach. To see if there is the possibility that I'm wrong and they are right. Thus far, as I said, I'm still unconvinced but rest assured, I'm not switched off to the possibilities! There is still a chance, at least in my mind, that perhaps some day someone will say something that changes my mind.
Until that day comes, however, I remain an atheist. However, I am still devoted to the idea that people are the most important aspect of our lives and that all peope deserve a fair shot. Of course, I go off from time to time but not as much as I used to and I surely work to keep that from happening as much as I possibly can.
Beyond this point, my story will become a ramble so I sign off from writing this now. There is more, of course, and there are always more questions from religious adherents and I'm always open to answering those beliefs in the full expectation that open-mindedness is something that is needful for all of us.
My best,
--Wag--
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