Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Lessons of the Ages
I don' know exactly why I am writing this blurb. Maybe it has to do with the fact the I have less years ahead of me than behind. Maybe its because of some regrets of lessons not learned. Not because they were not taught, I failed to absorb them.
A year ago July I reached a milestone of age that none thought possible. I tuned 50 years of age. When I was four I was diagnosed with a disease nobody thought I would survive past 10 years. My brother likes to say I was my parents "favorite child". But that's not true. I was the sheltered child that became defiant and rebellious. And because my folks were older less prone to fight me.
Because I did not believe I would live so long I did not prepare for it well. This is my fault, my regret and my joy as well. Anyway, I digress. I am amazed by people who live a long time and from an era gone by. The lessons, the stories they tell are invaluable in ways people survived and relied on each other to succeed. They will soon be lost and forgotten by future generations.
Last July I will traveled by motorcycle to Rimersburg, PA to celebrate my grandmother-in-law's 90th birthday. Five years ago when we were at a family gathering I gave her a ride on my Sportster. This year we gave her a surprise birthday party and part of my gift was a motorcycle ride on my Road King. Her stories is of life raising her children without a father.
I left Rimersburg and traveled back to Central Nebraska to celebrate my father's 94th birthday at the end of July. Dad is home bound but still interested in life around him. He has a library of stories that he shares with all who listen. All of them wonderful.
I marvel at the spirit of elderly people. Their desire to live life to their fullest and be involved even when health and other issues limit their ability. They still dream, hope and be people of influence when the prime years have faded in the years gone by.
Years of struggle and adversity have forged a character not being witnessed today by people in general. My wife's grandmother lost her husband in a Pennsylvania Mining accident nearly 60 years ago, never remarried and raised 4 children without Social Security, welfare, insurance or any other means of support other than hard work, determination and faith.
My dad is the last of the true pioneers. He was raised on a Nebraska homestead of his grandmother's and farmed with horses and hand tools. When the temp's were in double digits below zero or temperatures of summer reached triple digits in the shade, dad prepared the land for planting, provided feed to livestock and made it to church every Sunday.
Hard work and faith have gone by the wayside. While 85% of the people in the United States believe in God and Jesus Christ only40% of that number attend church. They are going to the beach, the mountains, staying home or working. God is a nameplate that people wear out of convenience or status identification.
People of my dad's and my wife's grandmother put God first, work ethics and family second. God provided the work and family. And God was worshipped in good times and bad.
I know I don't have the same view of life as my parents. I admit I want it easy and with little effort. I worked along side my dad on hot afternoons and freezing mornings. I built fences, milked cows, planted and irrigated crops and put up hay. I look back on those days as fond memories and great experiences. I do not want to go back to that hard of work for a living.
Going to church is important but I have to admit my wife and I don't often attend because "other things come up". It's not convenient or too long or not relevant or not. . . . .
Generations past did not think "convenience", they thought "survival". Hard work, long hours, family and faith provided the needs of life. They survived with gratitude and live with a twinkle in their eye because they know what life is all about AND cherish the memories.
Maybe I digress from my original intentions. But here is my thought. I am grateful I do not have to live the hardships of my ancestors but I feel I am not worthy of the legacy they left me. I am proud of my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents for the future they provided me. It's too bad to have not learned the lessons of age from those who lived it.
A year ago July I reached a milestone of age that none thought possible. I tuned 50 years of age. When I was four I was diagnosed with a disease nobody thought I would survive past 10 years. My brother likes to say I was my parents "favorite child". But that's not true. I was the sheltered child that became defiant and rebellious. And because my folks were older less prone to fight me.
Because I did not believe I would live so long I did not prepare for it well. This is my fault, my regret and my joy as well. Anyway, I digress. I am amazed by people who live a long time and from an era gone by. The lessons, the stories they tell are invaluable in ways people survived and relied on each other to succeed. They will soon be lost and forgotten by future generations.
Last July I will traveled by motorcycle to Rimersburg, PA to celebrate my grandmother-in-law's 90th birthday. Five years ago when we were at a family gathering I gave her a ride on my Sportster. This year we gave her a surprise birthday party and part of my gift was a motorcycle ride on my Road King. Her stories is of life raising her children without a father.
I left Rimersburg and traveled back to Central Nebraska to celebrate my father's 94th birthday at the end of July. Dad is home bound but still interested in life around him. He has a library of stories that he shares with all who listen. All of them wonderful.
I marvel at the spirit of elderly people. Their desire to live life to their fullest and be involved even when health and other issues limit their ability. They still dream, hope and be people of influence when the prime years have faded in the years gone by.
Years of struggle and adversity have forged a character not being witnessed today by people in general. My wife's grandmother lost her husband in a Pennsylvania Mining accident nearly 60 years ago, never remarried and raised 4 children without Social Security, welfare, insurance or any other means of support other than hard work, determination and faith.
My dad is the last of the true pioneers. He was raised on a Nebraska homestead of his grandmother's and farmed with horses and hand tools. When the temp's were in double digits below zero or temperatures of summer reached triple digits in the shade, dad prepared the land for planting, provided feed to livestock and made it to church every Sunday.
Hard work and faith have gone by the wayside. While 85% of the people in the United States believe in God and Jesus Christ only40% of that number attend church. They are going to the beach, the mountains, staying home or working. God is a nameplate that people wear out of convenience or status identification.
People of my dad's and my wife's grandmother put God first, work ethics and family second. God provided the work and family. And God was worshipped in good times and bad.
I know I don't have the same view of life as my parents. I admit I want it easy and with little effort. I worked along side my dad on hot afternoons and freezing mornings. I built fences, milked cows, planted and irrigated crops and put up hay. I look back on those days as fond memories and great experiences. I do not want to go back to that hard of work for a living.
Going to church is important but I have to admit my wife and I don't often attend because "other things come up". It's not convenient or too long or not relevant or not. . . . .
Generations past did not think "convenience", they thought "survival". Hard work, long hours, family and faith provided the needs of life. They survived with gratitude and live with a twinkle in their eye because they know what life is all about AND cherish the memories.
Maybe I digress from my original intentions. But here is my thought. I am grateful I do not have to live the hardships of my ancestors but I feel I am not worthy of the legacy they left me. I am proud of my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents for the future they provided me. It's too bad to have not learned the lessons of age from those who lived it.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
It Seems this is me, Politically
If you read my last post you saw the link to "The Politics Test". For you that know me well, the results of my test are as follows and may seem a little skewed in regards to the encomic aspects. Anyway, let me know what you think and share who you are.
Webb
| You are a Social Moderate (50% permissive) and an... Economic Conservative (60% permissive) You are best described as a:
Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test |
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The New Jacksonian
This Blog is from an interesting man who loves American History. I decided to post his Blog because of his political views and hope you will take time to view them and ponder his thoughts against yours.Webb
The New Jacksonian
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Christmas - - - or NOT
Greeting Ground Zero
by Alex R. Cohen C.O. Fines
New York, USA
Cold. Wind. Floodlights. And always, however much it fades, the smell of death, sinking into your clothes, your lungs, your heart.
Merry Christmas, Ground Zero. The work did not stop. You might think wishing people there a merry Christmas a bit beside the point, but that's what I did, all day.
There was a police officer who would have liked to be celebrating Christmas. He lives in Queens and works in the Bronx for the Housing Bureau; the Financial District is not his usual area. But he was told to go, and he went, and he soaked up the smell, and he forgot the date.
Merry Christmas.
There was another officer, who knew the area. He grew up about the same time the World Trade Center did, and his father worked for a downtown bank. The Financial District was not his beat either, but he worked at Ground Zero many days, including as a volunteer, and he soaked up so much of the smell that his home began to smell of death. When you're there all day, he explained, you find you cannot smell it anymore.
Merry Christmas.
There were police officers who escorted families past security checkpoints for a few moments of graveside prayer.
Merry Christmas.
There were construction workers who came off the job with weariness almost like that of any other hard work, but the difference was one I could feel in greeting them.
Merry Christmas.
There were Salvation Army people who drove into the site in carts laden with coffee, tea and hot chocolate, taking on the cold and bitterness of the pit to bring into it something warm and comforting.
Merry Christmas.
And of course, there were firefighters, the brothers and sisters of more than 300 who went down fighting on September 11. Of those who faced a series of funerals, and of those who fought for the right to remain at Ground Zero, the rights not to leave until all their brothers were with them. One of their departing cars appeared to carry civilians' possessions.
Merry Christmas.
A number of people I met at Ground Zero thanked me. They had reached such a point of detachment from the rest of the world that they found this Jewish-born atheist's holiday greeting deeply meaningful. It was not difficult to become absorbed in Ground Zero -- I came close in only one day, and I was outside, dealing only with the living.
Merry Christmas.
The words weren't meant to imply that anyone in particular should be either merry or Christian. They were to acknowledge the second wave of heroes at Ground Zero, the men and women who worked within the smell of death, within the everyday horror, and kept going back. With their help, the city held onto a spirit of life, in a season made bitter by more than winter winds.
Merry Christmas, Christmas or not.
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