Journal of an Undecided Voter Vol. Two

The Democratic Convention is well underway, and no I’m not watching it. Party politics disgust me, rhetoric is nauseating and analysts make me want to shoot the TV. I watch politicians enough to get a feel of their character from body language and unscripted exchanges. Beyond that, they might as well have a bubble above their heads saying – blah, blah, blah.

I’ve been reading some strong comments in condemnation or defense of both candidates. Sways me this way and that, but still no decision.

As to what I wrote about the names, just a little quirk in a Dr Who kind of way. Bad Wolf and all. A name won’t influence my vote in any way. Being a POW does add to the pot. Who better to know the horrors of war than one who’s been there? But it’s just a piece.

Now as to the prevalent Democratic battle cry that McCain would be four more years of Bush. I’m not sold that is the truth. I’ve never seen McCain as the same kind of candidate as George W. other than they are both Republicans. What’s he supposed to say - yeah Bush sucks? That’s not how party politics work. He’s not going to bash the outgoing party man any more than Al Gore was going to say – yeah Clinton’s a skirt chasing whoremonger but I’ll bring dignity back to the Oval Office. The incumbent party candidate’s tongue is tied when it comes to addressing the last four or eight years. Another reason I wish we’d do away with parties all together.

What I do like about this election is the involvement of the populous. Something some people want to attribute to Obama. Horse hockey. There’s a generation out there who has decided to take things into their own hands and that greatly encourages me. They turned out last election because they didn’t like the way things were going. Democracy in action. For when all is said and done, politicians are supposed to be working for us. When millions of voters start caring and paying attention to what’s going on, things change.

So, I am still concerned Obama’s not experienced enough and will try and give the sun moon and stars with no way to pay for it. I am concerned McCain is too old, too entrenched in Republican politics and too dug into Iraq.

Iraq, my feelings…. I want the hell out. Here’s what has bothered me from the start. Everyone knew our reasons for going in were false. The position Bush put Colin Powell in is inexcusable. My belief is this was more of a continuation of a family vendetta than national defense. George Sr. didn’t get Sadam so George W. finished the job. Was he a despot? Or course, but I don’t see us rushing into African nations where people are oppressed and starving to death. But, then, they don’t have oil.

The other thing that has bothered me is the mentality of the region. I don’t believe they want peace. If peace isn’t wanted, all the peacekeepers in the world won’t bring it.

But, there are the economics. We do need oil. We are hooked like an addict on heroin. What if we had changed our ways back in the 70’s when oil prices skyrocketed? Instead we went from Gremlins to Hummers. Stupid, lazy, gluttonous Americans that we are. So here we are. What if we hadn’t been pouring billions of dollars into the region purchasing oil for the last thirty years? Would we even have the terrorist issues? Would they have the funding? Would they have an incentive?

My feelings are we can’t get independent from that region fast enough. If we don’t need them, aren’t in their homelands, aren’t pouring billions of dollars in…. What would foreign policy look like? Oil has dictated our foreign policy for far too long.

I want to be independent from foreign oil. I want to be independent from the world. I want to know we could close our borders and take care of ourselves. I do believe it is time we spent more time looking inward.

Journal of an Undecided Voter - Vol. One

This will be the first entry in my journal of an Undecided Voter. I really have no idea which candidate I will choose come November. When the political surveyors call, I honestly tell them I am completely undecided. Were the election held today, they ask, who would you vote for. I don’t know, I answer. If you assigned a particular candidate a percentage of possibility, what would it be? Fifty percent, I answer, much to their consternation. But, I digress.

So, here’s what's on this undecided voter’s mind – Obama’s choice of running mate. When I read he had finally announced, I went to the most impartial source I knew for information, BBC news. Sideline – if anyone knows of a reason not to view this source as impartial, please enlighten me.

Joe Biden. Interesting on so many levels. Not one of which makes me feel better about Obama as a candidate. I agree it is an admission of his inexperience. Admitting he doesn’t know what he’s doing in the foreign policy arena. Admitting he doesn’t appeal to the most basic sector of the population.

And exactly how is this good old boy, this Washington insider going to aid Obama’s campaign for change? Biden is supposed to help woo the blue-collar vote. But, aren’t we to be voting for President, not the package? I know that’s the way it’s done in politics, but when all is said and done, the signature that matters won't be Biden’s. What guarantee is there that Biden will have any input at all?

And does anyone else see the terroristlike names? Osama Bin Lauden? Bin Lauden – Biden? Barack Hussein Obama? Osama – Obama? Sadam Hussein – Hussein. Ok, Ok, I know they are just names, but still, feels a little weird in the mystic or sci-fi kind of way.

But what disturbs me the most in the selection is what I’ll call the Cheney Syndrome. The inclusion of a pseudo-elected character in the power pool. Face it; we let Cheney get away with a lot of things solely because he wasn’t the President. He acted under the radar. Acted with as much power and authority as the President. I don’t want to get into that scenario again. If a candidate cannot get elected on his/her own merits, they he/she shouldn’t be president.

Joe Biden as a cabinet member may be a great choice, as a VP it causes me great concern. Just who will be running the government? Cheney- Bush (funny how his name came to mind first) at least stood on the same platform. Will Obama-Biden use a bi-level platform, a split stage, individual soapboxes?

I don’t know, it just doesn’t gel for me.

Where Has All the Summer Gone?

The summer is winding down. One more week to do all those things that have been put off. Or, one week to prepare for what is to come.

My youngest is sleeping in a tent out back with thee of his eleven-year-old friends. A very belated birthday party. Then again, he couldn’t be sleeping out if it were December. Last night the yard was littered with pop cans and bodies slain with dollar store foam swords, later to be resurrected into Ninjas or doomed to be Zombies.

Friday we will move our oldest into his dorm. All six of us. Our loaded down van with his brother and sisters will descend upon Mount Union College and move John-Boy into this next phase of life.

The girls are ready to go back to school, to be amongst their friends. But, as happens every year, the cry of ‘where did the summer go?’ echoes with the cicadas. We never made time for those camping trips I’d planned back in May. To go to Kennywood, Lake Erie or even the zoo. So much time spent doing – what? Reading. The kids do spend a great deal of summer time reading. Swimming, though never often enough for my ten-year-old. But too much sitting. At the TV, at the computer. Is it the schedule that creates these void zones? The minutes stuck in-between baseball, play practice, marching band, jobs, church and all the other things that fill pieces of the days?

Will I ever learn to manage those moments effectively? To not be in perpetual limbo? Perhaps, and then again, perhaps not.

Regardless, summer ends this week. Oh, we have the reprieve of Labor Day weekend. Those three days to do at least one of the things you’ve been meaning to do all summer. We really have to get our heads together and decide what it will be.

Eris is Alive and Well

Eris, the Greek personification of discord, survives into the modern world. Not only survives, but is alive and well and wreaking her havoc along highways and byways and high school support groups. Why do some have a pathetic, desperate craving for dissension?

According to tales of old, Eris when barred from a wedding due to her meddling ways, crashed the party and tossed out the apple of discord. The eventual result was the Trojan war. How may apples are still being tossed by suburban Enis’? Bushels full it appears.

Not only does Eris, bring her evils to the party, she brings along her children, the personifications of Quarrels, Lies, Disputes, False Oaths, Pain & Sorrow, Fighting, Battles, Famine, Forgetfulness, Labor, Lawlesness, Ruin, Manslaughter and Murder.

Oh, Eris you favorite of evil, you thrive today. Your spirit infests schools, boardrooms, churches and anywhere people capitulate to the necesitude of creating drama for their own twisted purposes.

I’m beginning to believe one of the greatest blessings art can bring into our lives is the satiation of the ugly human desire for drama. When confronted with a modern Eris, I want to tell them to go read a book, watch a movie or even a soap opera. To quench their requisite desire to embody that woeful goddess by observing others tossing their apples of strife into parties fictional. Fictional beings who cannot be hurt by the results, for though they may live in pages of books or TV screens, the drama of their lives end with the closing chapter or scrolling of credits.

Remembering Mary

On July 10, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, my Aunt Mary died.

I'd like to take a moment and publicly thank God for her life.

Mary was born in 1938 with Cerebral Palsy.
Her parents were told she would never live long past childhood.
She was 70 when her body finally gave out.
Mary couldn't walk, but as a child she crawled across a farmyard to be where her siblings were. Later she used crutches and finally a wheelchair.
She never progressed past the understanding of an older child and yet she knew all about the people and happenings of her world.
Mary never, ever complained. Of the pain. Or that she couldn't do what others did. She did what she could. Beautiful embroidery. Ironing. Drying dishes.
God granted her family's most fervent desire that she never have to be hospitalized or institutionalized.
She died peacefully in her sleep. In her home, with those who loved her silently slumbering around her.
God is faithful. God is good. Blessed be the name of the Lord

In the hours after Mary’s death, I found myself thinking of one of my favorite books, A Christmas Carol.
“I see a vacant seat in the poor chimney corner and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved.”
There is an empty blue chair in the living room. At every meal, one place less will be set. Her crutches, worn from use and delegated to a cobbywebby cubby hole will be carefully preserved.

Dickens quoted: “He took a child and set him in the midst of them.”
Mary was no longer a child when she died, and yet God had blessed her with a childlike spirit.
She found joy in simple things.
She was curious about everything.
And she loved to laugh.

Tiny Tim was
“very light to carry and his father loved him so much that it was no trouble, no trouble at all.”

Mary needed some degree of care all of her life. But for those who cared for her, I believe all will say it was no trouble, no trouble at all.
Mary wasn’t a burden to those who loved her.
Mary never complained about her pain or about not being able to what others did.
She not only was patient in affliction, I don’t think she thought of herself as afflicted.
For those who cared for her, I am sure there were times they wearied of the task. But Mary always did all she could for herself, never demanded and never complained.

Bob Cratchit said of Tiny Tim – “When we recollect how patient and mild he was we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves and forget Tiny Tim in doing it.”
A common admonishment when we were kids was – quit bickering, you’ll upset Mary!
Mom said it many times to Cindy, Wayne and I.
I’ve said it to my kids.
And I’m guessing Grandma and Grandpap said it to Lila, Harry, Mom and Bob.
For three generations, Mary’s inadvertently been a peacemaker.

Mary could get annoyed, angry or frustrated. But those moods never lasted long. She didn't sulk or hold grudges.

One thing Mary definitely was was determined. Mom tells that when she was a child, Mary wasn’t content sitting in the house. She wanted to be where the other kids were. Mary would make her way out of the house and crawl not only across the lawn, but across the road to get to the barn. And this wasn’t some nicely paved piece of asphalt, it was a country road made of rock and cinder with cars whizzing past. My Grandmother lived in mortal dread that Mary would get killed on that road, but nothing would keep Mary down.

Now Mary runs with the angels. After her death, I had a moment when all stopped. I felt I was witnessing from afar the moment when Mary was finally able to run and hug her parents.

It is hard for me to imagine who Mary is now that she has been made perfect. It is more than a healing of physical infirmities. It is also a completion of her mind. It makes me feel a bit shy to think of meeting her again. She won't be as we knew her. She will be a stranger. I know in heaven emotional distance will no longer exist, and yet, I cannot grasp the change. I expect to ponder it for many a year until I meet her again. By then, perhaps I will have gained some understanding.

Youth Mission Trips - Stirring the Pot

Well, today I did it again. Yep, brought up something to stir the pot a bit. Not something I really like doing, but can't seem to stay away from.

The subject of the day is Youth Mission Trips. A dicey practice to question. Who can find fault with kids doing good? Right?

Well...

The work accomplished is applaudable. The bonding irreplaceable. The spirit of caring invoked commendable.

Why then does some of it jar just a bit?

In part, I cannot fathom why funds are raised to send kids halfway around the country to do work for folks when other churches are sending groups right into our own neighborhoods.

I suppose it is a bit the 'vacation' aspects of the trips that grates. The need to travel to far off destinations. Did Ohioans really need to go all the way to South Carolina? Or did it have just something to do with the beach being in close proximity? Were they really experiencing a different culture that travel might justify?

Then there is the perceived need to offer a carrot to tempt the kids to participate. For our groups it's been a trip to an amusement park as part of the package. Is it really ethical to raise funds for a mission trip when part of those monies are going to pay for a day at the park?

And more importantly, aren't we selling our kids short when we assume they won't participate unless there is something in it for them? Are they really that shallow? I don't think so. Sure, if offered a day at an amusement park, most aren't going to turn it down. But, to decide they wouldn't participate unless given a reward is, I believe, selling them short. I happen to believe that they are that dedicated to helping others and that they would do it even if there were no earthly compensation. Being a Christian group, isn't that exactly what we should be teaching and modeling? Helping others even when it means there is absolutely nothing in it for them?

I am getting a little more than tired of the perpetuating of the spoiled child syndrome. We adults complain about kids being self-centered and yet, who made them that way? We did. Often we expect too little of them. Praise too much when they do what is expected. Why should they feel the need to climb to a higher level?

And yet, so many do, despite the adults and to their amazement. Again, selling our kids short. Assuming, if given the choice, they would chose the lazy path.

Why do we limit our kids that way? Is it because we assume they will act in the outside world as they do at home? A logical conclusion. But unfair. Do we act the same at home as we do in the outside world? I doubt it. Most of us have 'company manners'.

So to wrap up this lengthy diatribe, I wish we would cease to sell our kids short. Expect the best and not be surprised when they deliver.

Hey Good Lookin' What'cha Got Cookin'

For a while now, I have been consumed with thoughts of 'SUPPER'. What to make, how to fit it into the evening never all at home schedule, when to begin, when to prepare, when to cook, what to buy. It's been like trying to balance a three ringed circus on a spoon.

Then the other day I had a flash of mommy brilliance. You know those moments of 'so obvious' that come along all too infrequently. I delegated to my kids. Each would be responsible for one night a week. Placing ingredients on the shopping list, preparation, serving, clean-up. What an idiot I've been. They need responsibility, they need to learn to cook and I need released from the prison of supper seven nights a week. My ten year old likes creative cooking, the girls do OK and the oldest needs to learn. My oldest can drive and I believe some kid shopping trips loom upon the horizion.

Of course, I'm hardly free of everything. I will have to organize, teach, prod... But at least some of it gets shifted and I can break out of some of the monotony. Yeah Me!