Dignified Transfer

The military has a term to describe the process of bringing service members who have made the ultimate sacrifice from the battlefield home:  dignified transfer.  Although I may have heard the term used before, it really made an impression on me this morning as I watched a segment on CBS Sunday Morning.  I watch the show most Sunday mornings, and as the teaser ran for the upcoming piece, I got a lump in my throat when I saw all the flags lining a street and a hearse driving slowly in what was obviously a military procession.  As they got to the cemetery I thought, "My gosh, that looks just like Oklahoma."

When the program returned from the commercial break after what seemed like thirty minutes, but was likely only three or four, it turned out it was Oklahoma.  It was the story of Sgt. Mycal Prince who died in Afghanistan on 15 September 2011 when insurgents attacked his unit with rocket propelled grenades and small arms.  He was 28 years old, with a wife and two small children, one still a baby.  His wife wanted his story to be told, and CBS followed Mrs. Prince soon after the time she received the news, including the point where the dignified transfer occurs.

It was so terribly touching to hear and see the interview with the chaplain and the captain who delivered the news.  They did not need cue cards or a script.  Their message was plain and simple.  And it hurt them to their core to deliver it.   

Mrs. Prince said the hardest part was to tell her older daughter that these men were here, "to let them know that Daddy is not coming home."  It was only one month until their sixth wedding anniversary.  In one picture shown of the family as Sgt. Prince was shipping out, the look on both adult faces was that of apprehension. He had already served in Saudi Arabia in 2003, in New Orleans following Katrina in 2005, in Iraq in 2008, and was sent to Afghanistan in 2011. Mycal Prince joined the Oklahoma National Guard the day after his 17th birthday.  He knew service.

On 26 September 2011 his family said goodbye and our country gave him full military honors at his funeral.  Although I am eternally grateful for his sacrifice, I am deeply sorry another one of our fine sons had to do so.  Another mother is grieving; another wife is mourning; and two more daughters will never see their father again.  And this is not to mention the hundreds or thousands who lined the streets and, never having known Sgt. Prince, still felt his loss as his procession rolled by.

One good thing came of this however.  The dignified transfer.  We treated this man -- and his family -- with respect. 

So, take that, Not-so-rev. Fred Phelps, and shove it up your First Amendment backside.

Now the whole world knows that Mycal Prince was a Hero as well as a Prince.  He's not the only young Oklahoma man who is a hero in my book.  He's right there beside Jonathan Stroud.  Thank you both for your ultimate sacrifice.

Veterans Day will be here in a few weeks.  Do something for the ones we have that are still with us, in memory of the ones who have paved the way.

In the meantime, I'm praying for fewer Dignified Transfers.

September Tears

September used to be one of my favorite months.  When I was growing up it meant going back to school, seeing all my friends for the first time since saying good-bye in May.  September is the birth month of several important friends.  Football kicks off in September -- now that's a really big deal.

But for everyone alive on the face of the earth in 2001, September forever changed.  Just as those of the generation who remember exactly what they were doing on November 22, 1963, when they heard JFK had been assassinated, many millions more have an indelible pain etched on their hearts from September 11, 2001.  Of course I have my own recollection of September 11 conducting an arbitration hearing, stumbling through the day, gathering around whatever TV set we could find, listening on the radio for news updates, and wondering if there would be more attacks.  There was the strange silence overhead, no planes in the air for the first time in my life.  And then dealing with all the issues that followed, business, personal, and otherwise.

September changed for me not only because of 2001.  I lost someone very close to me in September, albeit not 2001.  That was a death that took me many years to get over.  For a very long time, years in fact, I could not put the two words "he" and "died" in the same sentence.  Now I can almost say his name in a sentence with the word "died."  And damn it, it didn't help anything when he died the day after his birthday. (See, I used the two words in the same sentence.  Writing is one thing; saying it aloud is quite another.)  Okay, so I'm still not completely over his departure.  I'm not the only one who has struggled with that grief.  I think we have all come to terms with it in our own ways.  We still miss him.  At least now we can laugh and tell the funny stories and say, remember when ....

September brings tears to my eyes for another, even more powerful reason that I will not write about directly.  I will only say that something once happened in September that caused me to understand the power of forgiveness.  No one can truly appreciate the depths of love and the bond of a relationship until they have experienced true forgiveness.  For I once inflicted a grievous wound on someone I love, and I was forgiven.  That was in September.  I will forever be amazed and forever trying to prove myself worthy.

What I have learned is that forgiveness is a tremendously powerful idea.  It is extraordinarily hard to give.  But what it does for the person who receives it is liberating, if the person understands the gift.  The idea of forgiveness is particularly important today, the tenth anniversary of 9/11.  So many still have hate in their hearts for the perpetrators, their ethnic group, or whatever else.  Hate is self-destructive and serves no worthwhile purpose that I have found.  Forgiveness, on the other hand, is the path to life.  It is the path that Jesus taught.

So my September tears are mixed.  They are reminders of good things, too.  Powerful, loving, joyful tears.  I have a lot of love in my life.  It is multiplied when I give it to others around me.  If I can bestow the gift of forgiveness -- along with the gift of love -- the joy multiplies exponentially.  What a great life!

God Bless You, Sister

I found the perfect remedy yesterday for anyone who needs to be lifted up.  Wear a bright blue shirt and a smile.  The trick is, however, you have to be the first one to smile at people.  And you have to mean it.  It can't be one of those fakey smiles -- the kind you see at the new car dealership, "Oh, we're so glad to see you again, Mrs. X." -- or especially at the grocery stores, "Thank you for shopping with us today."  (They really mean, "We like your money.")

No, you have to smile with your eyes, not just your mouth.  The smile from your eyes is actually coming straight from your heart.  A smile from your heart really means you are transmitting love to the person, but not in those exact words.  If you go through the day radiating love to the people around you, a truly amazing thing happens.  It just bounces right back!  The people usually sense the love (even though they may not call it that exactly) and return it in the form of a smile.

Sometimes it's a very powerful thing.  Some people are very attuned to it and immediately give back.  I had one of those "whoa" moments yesterday.  I had just finished at the doctor's office and was on my way back to the parking garage.  I walked past a lady with two young children sitting on a bench beside the elevator.  I smiled at her and she said something about my blue shirt.  I said something about her two beautiful children.  She then told me they were twins, and she had another set of twins who were upstairs with their grandmother.  She has a total of eight children, has had five C-sections.  She's 44 and the doctor has told her she can't have any more children, "because her tissue is too weak."  I asked her how she's doing with all of it.  She said, "I'm fine, praise Jesus."  I responded, "Yes, you certainly are."  And as I was walking away she told me, "God bless you, Sister." 

That totally made my day.

I still had to go back to work and face the mountain of phone messages, email and projects waiting for me.  But it helped me put things in perspective.  I don't have to solve all of the problems.  And I certainly don't have to do it alone.  Sometimes all it takes is a smile.

So, to everyone out there, God Bless you, Sister.  Or Brother.

Ode to Wallace

My dad died in 1988.  He was just shy of his 63rd birthday.  I don't know why exactly, but for some reason I have been missing him a lot lately.  My mind has strayed a bit wondering what he would think of our world right now, how he would have changed over the years in reaction to the developments in society, and if his views would have changed anything for me differently in the 20-some years had he been physically present.

My dad did not have a lot of formal education.  His "book learning" came mostly from reading that he did on his own, but he was a voracious reader.  From the earliest I can remember he subscribed to Time magazine and read the entire issue almost as soon as it arrived each week.  The same held true for the newspapers, both our local newspaper and the nearest big city newspaper.  He also watched the evening news on CBS with Walter Cronkite or Dan Rather and then the local news, so he was well-informed on all of the issues of the day.

So I think he would have welcomed the internet with all of its portals to the Information Age.  He loved gadgets and subscribed to Popular Mechanics, so I have no doubt he would have wanted a personal computer and an iPhone -- and even a Kindle.  I can only imagine how many books he would have kept and read on his Kindle.  As it was he went to the used books store and bought sackfuls of paperbacks.  The ebook reader would have been ever so much more convenient!

He loved having a calculator and was very good at math.  Conversely, his handwriting was terrible.  He always called it "chicken scratch."  Thus, I know positively he would have enjoyed having a computer keyboard to use for email.  If he could also use it to keep up with his kids, grandkids, brothers, and locate old friends, he would have relished the opportunity.  And once he found out he could play chess by himself, that would have just pushed him right over the top!  All of the other programs, games -- and now apps -- would have thrilled him.

On the other hand, he would shake his head in disbelief and sadness at our political situation.  He would wonder why we haven't learned from the past and are not capable of compromise.  He was definitely old-school about a lot of things.  He admired Dwight D. Eisenhower and believed in personal responsibility and doing the right thing.  But he also believed in not making a fuss, and doing things quietly.  If everything was fine you wouldn't hear anything about it.  It was only when things were a problem that he let you know maybe you needed to change direction.  (You knew the meal was good because he ate it.  If it was not, he might tell you so.  Assume everything is good and keep going.)

When I was getting close to graduating from law school, he asked me to make him one promise.  He asked me to never go into politics.  He told me it is a dirty business.  I made him that promise, and I have kept it.  He was absolutely right.  And I do not want to go into politics.  I have been asked by a lot of people, but I have told them I made a promise.  However, I have worked in campaigns and seen what goes on behind the scenes in politics.  I do take a keen interest in having good people in government -- which I believe is completely different from going into politics myself.

What we never talked about though, was the McCarthy era, and how it may have shaped his views on politics.  Daddy would have been in his prime during that dark period of our country, and I'm certain his thoughts would have been insightful.  I do know, though, that he was a strong believer in cycles.  And I think he would have thought of what is going on now as a cycle -- a bad one, but a cycle nonetheless.  We had to be prepared to weather it and work together to get through it.

I don't know how I would be different if he had stayed around physically.  I know I am influenced by the fact he is not available to talk to or visit.  His absence left a gaping hole in my life that is responsible, at least partially, for forcing me to grow up.  I couldn't call him to ask what kind of car he thought I should buy this time, or what that knocking sound might be coming from.  (Luckily my husband can help a lot in that department now.)  Does that mean I never would have grown up or become as responsible or opinionated had he not died?

Well, not everyone thinks I'm opinionated.  Mostly those are people that haven't met me though.  But what my father taught me was to listen to other people's opinions, and even more importantly, to respect those opinions.  That is what is missing in today's world.

Just One Smile

There is nothing in the world brighter than the smile of a child.  When I came home from work yesterday three of my grandchildren were playing in the yard while their grandfather was grilling the fish for dinner.  I quickly changed clothes to join them outside, not doing anything in particular.  It's amazing how fast that changed everything.

No longer was I dealing with the heavy stresses of a legal department for a big company with all of the attendant meetings and deadlines.  I shed the trappings of corporate life as soon as I put on my shorts and tee shirt and walked into the child's playground.  All I had to do was be willing to let go and step into the moment, into their world of carefree freedom, bugs, blades of grass, sticks, dog pooh, and hysterical laughter at almost anything.

Living in their moment means that all of life is now.  It is beautiful, it is peaceful, it is immediate, and it is oh, so precious.  You see into their eyes, their beautiful eyes.  That means you see into their souls, their beautiful souls.  There is nothing sweeter than when one climbs into a rickety lawn chair and proudly proclaims, "I sit by you, Nana."  Then of course, the other one has to come throw him out of the chair and say, " I want to sit there by Nana."  At which time you gently try to point out that Nana has two sides and there is another chair on the other side. 

Above all, though, are the sweet, sweet smiles of each child.  Will they ever know that I would walk a mile on my kness through broken glass just to see one of their smiles?  It is truly the highlight of my day, a smile that can light up an entire universe.  I am not limiting my treasure trove of smiles to only these three grandchildren -- it's all of my grandchildren.  I am truly blessed.  Does it show?  Can you see my smile?

Go Team, Go

Eleven hour day today.  My lunch was literally taken on the run.  I ate my soup as I was walking around the office taking care of things.  I would take a bite, ask a question, look at something, take another bite, walk somewhere else, get a copy from the machine, take my soup with me back to my office and get another bite, and then go back to my paralegal's office to see if we had finished the project we had committed to have done "this morning."  I really don't mind, and here's why.

I am so proud of my Team.  They are really great people.  They work hard and they are good at what they do.  They take pride in their jobs, and because of their efforts, we met a very important deadline.  I surprised them this morning at our Team Meeting and had a cake ("Congratulations Team") and soft drinks.  My job is really to be their Number One Cheerleader.  I want to know when things are standing in the way of their ability to do their jobs, whether it's a person, a thing, a process, or something else.  I am not a micromanager (I have too many people to do that), but I do want to know what is going on.  If nothing else, I do not want my boss to be surprised by anything going on in our shop.

I know that people are not perfect -- not even the members of my Team.  When there are those few times that issues pop up, I believe they are to be addressed privately, promptly, and professionally.  Then it is that person's responsibility to correct the problem after I've pointed it out.

So I am exhausted tonight.  I have another long day ahead tomorrow with big challenges, but I will be surrounded by my great group.  I will have great news to report during the meeting with my boss and her staff, and that's all due to my Great Team.  So I plan to keep cheering them on!

Go Team, Go!!

Once More With Feeling

There's change, then there is Change, and then there is CHANGE!!!!   My office moved from room 2522 to 2528, and I am still working on getting all the files and books where they belong.  My company is going through a large upheaval; that is Change with a capital C.

On the other hand, those changes must be put in perspective.  Those are the roll-with-the punches type of change that determine our character, that build us into the people we become, that teach us life lessons.  It is through those changes that we find what we are made of and how we react to difficulties and overcome obstacles.  Only when a challenge comes our way do we learn if we can successfully rise to the occasion -- and by definition, that requires change.

Sometimes what we think of as CHANGE is really only change.  It takes opening our eyes and noticing the circumstances of our friends and neighbors -- both near and far -- to understand that what we thought was CHANGE is really only change.  For example, people in Joplin, Missouri are truly experiencing CHANGE.  Their lives have been irrevocably altered by a tornado that leveled their community.  When I starting writing this, 125 people were dead, 900 injured and 232 still missing.  And Joplin is not the only community affected by the storms.  Oklahoma was hit the day before I started writing, but the flooding has been horrific throughout the entire spring this year over at least a third of the United States.

I have several people close to me that have lost family members or that have family members that are near death.  Those people are not dealing with (little c)change.  They are struggling with trying to live in a world that will no longer have meaning for them; no sunshine; no laughter; no joy --- at least not for a long while.

Then there are the changes that our bodies go through as time takes its toll.  I learned a few days ago that a man I worked with early in my career died last summer. A talented lawyer with a brilliant mind, he also brought life to any party.  What hurt the most, however, devastated me in fact, was finding out that he died from Alzheimer's disease at only age 71.  I still see his gleaming blue eyes with that hint of mischief, and can't help but wonder ....

So I'll deal with all the piddly little stuff like moving a few boxes, and even the extra heavy workload associated with a corporate split, separation, spin-off or whatever they want to call it.  And at some point I'll have to deal with the big Changes, too.  I probably won't get to plan those.  I am trying to learn to keep perspective on the really big CHANGES - the things I care about most, those whom I love are infinitely more important than any material thing on earth.  Things can be replaced and most mistakes can be fixed.  I love you, I'm sorry, and Can you forgive me -- need to be said to people before it's too late.  Once more, with feeling.

The Village Helps

Someone close to me is having a medical test on Monday.  After it's over he is not supposed to drive home so he needs someone to drive him.  I can't do it because I have Nana duty, picking up my beautiful sweetheart grandbaby after daycare.  So my loving spouse will chauffeur the patient home while I complete Nana duty at our house. 

This made me think back to a procedure I needed in the early 1980's when I was in my late twenties.  I was in law school and my pap smear had come back abnormal.  Not good news -- certainly not when studying for my first set of exams.  So we ran a second pap smear, and it too, came back abnormal.  All of this took time, of course.  My doctor recommended as the next step to try freezing the cervix with nitrous oxide, an office procedure.  I believe it was January when we set the appointment.  His office told me there would be a local anesthetic used and the whole procedure would not take long.  Originally I planned to drive myself home, but my mother-in-law insisted on going with me.  Thank goodness she did!  I was in no shape to drive.  (Don't ask where my then-husband was that day.  I don't think it registered with him that any of this was a big deal.)

I'll leave out the gory details, but I can say that the objective was not accomplished.  The dysplastic cells only came back with a vengeance -- more of them, and more abnormal than before.  But again, waiting to see if the procedure had worked, as determined by yet another pap smear, took time.  My only options by then were to see if it would go away on its own  (ha!), or give up my female reproductive organ to prevent those cells from turning all the way to cancer.  It wasn't a matter of if, it was just when. 

So at the age of 28 between my second and third years of law school I had a hysterectomy. 

By the fall semester I was back playing flag football with our intramural team, the Lawdees.

Looking back on it now from an age that is double that number, it all seems long ago and far away.  But I must say that 28 seems shockingly young to give away one's uterus.

On the other hand, I've had 28 extra years in trade.  I wouldn't mind another 56 so long as I stay healthy.  I've already told everyone that I've picked 106 as the age that I plan to leave the physical world, so that wouldn't be too far off.  Who knows what our health care system will be like then?  Maybe everything will be genetically based and modeled from our own DNA stock.

I'm reminded that the purpose of this blog is gratitude.  As I've been writing this I have it in abundance.  My former mother-in-law is still alive, bless her wonderful heart!  I love her dearly.  She has cared for me and taken care of me time and time again.  I'm grateful for good medical care and the doctors who have given me good advice over the years.  Excluding outpatient tests, I haven't been in the hospital since my hysterectomy in 1983. 

That's nice.  I hope to keep it that way. 

Peace & Love

Staying Sane in a Changing World

Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and who knows where the next revolution will be?  Maybe Wisconsin?  In the past month there has been much in the world that has changed.  In decades past a government could control the message if it controlled the sources of communications to the people.  In a place where there was no freedom of the press where the television, radio and newspapers were operated only with the authority of the government (or strongarm in charge), parceling out limited information was easy.

In today's world with Facebook, Twitter, Text Messages, IM, and Cell Phones, we have seen that an entire revolution is possible within a matter of weeks.  With the page entitled, "We Are All Khaled Said," a revolution was born in Egypt with events communicated to followers from one single site, an humble FB page.  On January 24, 2011, even the venerable Time Magazine speculated whether 80,000 followers who clicked "like" on their computers really would appear in Tahrir Square for Revolution Day on January 25 as requested.  Tahrir Square is a new symbol for freedom because far more than 80,000 protesters answered the call on January 25 and stayed for days on end until their voices were heard and their demands for new leadership were met.

Today the fever has spread across North Africa to Libya.  The situation is far worse there because the some portions of the army are turning on the people and killing them.  These may be hired mercenaries, but accurate information is hard to obtain.  There is no turning back now for this part of the world.  Gadafi and his band of thugs will not last.  They do not have the resources to hold out for long, and they are trapped in Tripoli.  In the view of many experts he will not leave Libya alive.  In fact, his son has said he has Plan A, Plan B, and Plan C -- to live and die in Libya.  Will he kill himself before being taken alive?  Who knows?  The man seems to be genuinely crazy.

And I have my own big change occurring.  For the first time in almost twenty years I am making a job change.  In one sense it is not so big.  I am still going to be working with many of the same people that I have seen day after day for the last eighteen or so years.  On the other hand, I will be saying good-bye to the most wonderful group of friends anyone could ask to work with -- my law partners and staff.  I am going to work in-house for one of my clients, and it is the chance to do something meaningful.  I get the opportunity to mentor the next generation of leaders in the law organization of a major corporation.  How cool is that?  Of course I don't know everything, but I do have 27 years worth of experience.  So I can at least tell people -- here are some of my mistakes, don't do what I did; try it another way that will get a better result.

I have also gotten back serious about my mediation again.  I realized how much I had missed having that balance in my life.  And once-in-a-while simply was not cutting it.  It is truly amazing what a difference it makes when I make the time every day to go inside myself, get quiet and focus.  Asking for peace, love and compassion and to be able to share that with other people may be asking for a lot.  I think it is okay to dream big though.

It's got to start within me I found out.  So my personal Revolution is to have Peace, Love and Compassion within myself.  I hope it will show.

Good night everybody.

By and By

For the past two days I have been extraordinarily frustrated that I've been stuck working on the same project and seemingly accomplishing nothing.  Can't talk about it here -- that confidentiality stuff.  I really do not understand why this task has come to me -- not in the cosmic (or karmic) sense -- and in any case I am not going to whine about it.  I really do not like whiners, and I try to model the behavior that is consistent with "no whining."

So in the immortal words of those great philosophers, Mick Jaggers and Keith Richards: 

You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You get what you need.

--------
But that takes time to realize that you get what you need.  Which brings me to the "by and by" part.  We don't hear the phrase "by and by" so much anymore.  It seems when I was growing up I recall hearing it somewhat more.  Maybe it's because I grew up hearing so many old gospel hymns that had that phrase in it.  Elvis Presley sang one ("Well children by and by when the morning comes ... ), and the Carter family sang, "will the circle be unbroken by and by"... and there are others, too.  I even remember a joke told at Wurstfest by one of our friends that seemed to go on forever that kept using the phrase "by and by" over and over again.  (Thank goodness Danny Wayne is such a good storyteller or the joke could have gotten lost ...)

So this afternoon I was really wanting to push my own agenda and get things down the road toward the direction I thought they should go.  Of course, they just were not going that way.  I was starting to get ever so slightly less than jazzed about this situation.  Then it occurred to me.  It's not really up to me to drive this bus, and I really could let go of it all.  That's when I remembered the phrase by and by and realized it's going to be okay anyway, because the big picture is what counts.

By and by stands for the overall outcome.  It may be further down the road, a lot further down the road before we can see anything in perspective.  But one day we do get let in on the secret.

In the meanwhile, we get what we need. 
Are we observant enough to see that fact as it is happening though?

Just Singin' Along

My friends Dale and Ellen Jane got me thinking about all of my many groups of friends.  A lot of my friends don't know each other because they know me from different eras in my life, or they know me from one setting or area that may not cross over to other areas.  For example, my childhood friends don't know the people that I serve with as fellow H.O.'s (no, that's not ho's as in some usage in vogue today) and mediators.  While I was musing on this topic of all of my many amazing friends and how very fortunate I am to have them in my life, my mind wandered off to thoughts of music -- and songs about friends.

Sure, there are loads of songs about love.  But what about songs in praise of friends?  I started making a list of some of my favorite songs about friends and even looked up the lyrics to some.  Some are deeply personal, some are lighthearted, and some are downright silly, but they all celebrate the "F" word -- Friendship.

Here are a baker's dozen of my favorites.  Feel free to trip over to YouTube and watch a video of someone singing a song that you might not recognize. 

1.  We're Going To Be Friends - The White Stripes  (a little ditty about childhood friends)
2.  You've Got a Friend - James Taylor
3.  Thank You for Being a Friend - Andrew Gold
4.  Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon & Garfunkel
5.  With a Little Help from My Friends - The Beatles
6.  In My Life - The Beatles
7.  He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother - The Hollies
8.  You've Got a Friend in Me - Randy Newman
9.  I'll Be There for You - Rembrandts
10. That's What Friends Are For - Dionne Warwick (actually by Burt Bacharach & Carole Bayer Sager)
11. (Ya Gotta Have) Friends - Bette Midler
12. I'll Stand by You - The Pretenders
13. Lean on Me - Bill Withers

What's on your list?

And to all my beautiful and wonderful friends out there, I just want to say -- Thank you for being my friend. 

Further Adventures of Dale & Ellen Jane Babcock

Dale & Ellen Jane attended a mini-reunion with a number of their high school friends.  They tried to remember if this was the 9th or the 10th year the group has been getting together like this, but somewhere thereabouts.  This year the weather cooperated and the beach provided a scenic backdrop to tell stories, reminisce, and catch up with everyone.  The group varies a bit from year to year with someone showing up that's never been before (or at least not in many, many years), but generally there are about 25 to 30 people that gather for the weekend.

Dale pulled out the old yearbooks and was startled to see how young the teachers looked back then.  He remembered some of them being very old, but now Dale is older than the age that most of them were when he and Ellen Jane were in high school.  Dale flipped through to find the picture of the football team -- he was Captain their senior year.  (Funny, but he thought he was bigger than that then!)

Ellen Jane sat next to Dale and picked up one of the other yearbooks.  She found the pictures from the Class Favorites section.  She and Dale had always been voted Most Popular every year in high school.  Those hairstyles -- what were they thinking!!  As she flipped through the pictures of the faces looking back at her, she thought of all the hopes and dreams.  Who would have thought this group would turn out the way it did?  They had an opera star, an advertising executive, a few lawyers, a dentist, an air force officer, a successful Nashville musician, too many CPAs to count, and loads of teachers, entrepreneurs and family business owners.

Finally Ellen Jane reached the last page of the yearbook she was studying.  Although she performed the ritual every year, for the first time something struck her.  This one was inscribed, just as most yearbooks have been signed by friends to the owner.  On the very last page this particular yearbook held dedications from Brenda, Debi, and Mary Beth.  As she read them the lump in her throat only got larger when she turned the page back to see who had signed right before, only to see Bubba's handwritten words all those years before.

Ellen Jane's friends could see she was a bit shaken and asked what was up.  She couldn't answer and only pointed.  Darlene slid the book over to read.  Immediately her eyes filled with tears.  Debi had been her roommate in college.  They all attended her funeral three years ago following a horrible car accident.  Debi had always been the life of the party, and her spirit still was part of the reunion, even now.  Mary Beth had been gone the longest.  The doctors had said what happened to her was a one-in-a-million chance, an aneurysm.  That was twenty years ago.  Ellen Jane had known her since kindergarten.  It was five years ago that Bubba died.  Leukemia took him, although technically it was an infection because of his weakened immune system following chemotherapy.  Brenda had been the most recent loss -- just a few months ago -- also from cancer.  She fought valiantly for years.

Ellen Jane looked at Darlene and said, Now you see why we do this each year?  All we really have is each other.  It's about the connection.  So they got Dale and Kathy and LuAnn and Bobby and drank a toast to all of their friends -- present in body or spirit. 

Then Darlene read all of Dale and Ellen Jane's letters and cards she had received over the years as they had traveled the country.  Debi had especially enjoyed that part every year.  Everyone else continued their poker game, storytelling, or whatever else until the group dwindled until the last one said goodnight -- and finally goodbye until next year. 

Same place, same weekend in 2012.  Love you guys!

Tucson: Guns, Government and Morality

Tomorrow will be ten days since Jared Loughner shot Gabrielle Giffords in front of a Safeway store in Tucson, Arizon.  I will not even say allegedly since he was caught red-handed, in the act of reloading his gun to shoot more people.  He killed six people and wounded thirteen others, included Congresswoman Giffords, known as Gabby to her friends, and now it seems to all of us as well.

It's been an emotional journey, first with the chaos of the shooting itself, and then with the back and forth accusations in the body politic.  The horror seemed to escalate, spiraling upward with the weirdest intensity that made no sense whatsoever.  People from the tea party movement shrieking about individual responsibility and talk radio personalities insisting on their first amendment rights, only to have the victim in chief misuse a term with a very particular and painful meaning to Jewish people everywhere.

At the memorial service on Wednesday night President Obama spoke of a more civil and honest discourse, one that can help us face up to the challenges of our nation in a way that would make those being remembered proud.

Now, only days afterward I look on Facebook and see all the same old nonsense though.  I see the rhetoric starting to escalate, and I wonder if it will remain civil and honest.  I see people just copying statements from others that seem to have little thought behind them, and I question if we will make it.  I hope so.  I want to believe.  I try to be optimistic.

Here is the problem.  I know that guns do not kill people, and that it takes a person to pull the trigger.  But I also know that some people just should not have access to guns.  Never.  It does not matter about their Second Amendment rights.  It is just the same as some people having lost their right to Liberty, winding up in a penitentiary.  If we can figure out how to discern which people belong in the penitentiary for life -- and keep them there -- then why on earth can we not figure out which people should not have a gun because they are mentally unstable?

When I speak of GUN CONTROL, that is one of the things that I mean.  Decide how to deal with the people who cannot be trusted because of their mental conditions, and then make sure they do not get their hands on them. 

If this means it involves the government, so be it.  If it means that gun sellers have to police themselves, do that.  If it means there is a financial incentive, make that happen somehow.  If it takes a waiting period to perform the background checks, that should not be a problem.  If mental health facilities are not getting the records to the right place, then fix that problem.  There should be no voluntary aspect or self-reporting to leave it to chance for the patient; that is why mental health facilities report everything.  Crazy people simply cannot have access to guns -- ever.

The argument that inevitably surfaces is that people intent on finding a gun will get one anyway, illegally if necessary.  This is where morality comes into play for me.  I do not believe that "He'll get one anyway" is an excuse to do something immoral.  It is not okay to give up or to look away and say "that's just the way things go" that Jared Loughner was able to purchase a gun.  To me it is a moral duty to do everything possible to prevent guns from falling into the hands of people that should not have them. 

That duty may impose different oblitations.  It may require me as a parent to unload my gun and put in somewhere, locked and far away from the reach of children that I know live in my home or will be visiting in my home.  It may require me to stop carrying one if my eyesight starts failing and I myself should no longer have one. (A shotgun at home -- well, that's a different story altogether.  There's always the baseball bat I keep beside my bed.)

But access to guns by people with mental health issues is only one aspect of the tragedy in Tucson.  The other, larger part of this problem is the mental health system in our country.  Many years ago we had more people institutionalized, but we moved away from that model to releasing people back into the community.  However, the community was supposed to provide support services and treatment to those folks.  Anyone who has ever dealt with mental health issues knows the truth of the support system provided by the community.  We should be able to call someone and report a person who is acting "crazy" or "scary" such as Jared Loughner. 

Given the funding issues of today's world, if we called would anyone answer?  So would the Jareds of Tomorrow get any help?  Or would the report be provided to the proper authority to prevent him from getting a handgun and stop another Tucson?

My bet is this will be forgotten in the rush to cut budgets.  With all the talk about Morality, there will be more emphasis on slashing funds as the "moral" thing to do, rather than properly funding mental health issues and taking care of keeping people safe.  In other words Financial Morality will trump Protecting People Morality.