An e-mail from an old friend
Erich Fromm once wrote, “Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies.”
One of my good friends who lives in Ohio and reads this column wrote back in response to last week’s column telling me how cancer and illnesses has affected her family over the years. Her reason for writing was to share her experiences and to let us know she was praying for Barb and me.
Here’s a woman whom I know has had more than her share of problems in life and still took a few minutes of her time to express her concern because she has empathy for others who face the same problems she has already experienced in her life. In our attempt to console others sometimes the only thing we can do is to write a little note and pray for others, if only to let them know “I understand and I care.” We all need a little TLC in our lives from time to time. It’s these people who see this need and take the time to respond for they want to give of themselves if only to say, “Here’s a little ray of sunshine on an otherwise rainy day.”
We can ask ourselves, “why me” when tragedy strikes. We can wonder if God was picking on us for some good reason or is it “just the luck of the draw.” But I’m one of those who thinks that all things have a reason as to the what, where, when and the why. Sometimes it’ll take a lifetime before one can look back and see with 20/20 hindsight what his purpose was in life. We can lament or we can rejoice or probably just be satisfied with making it through. However I do like what Erma Bombeck once wrote, “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.’"
Whether we know it or not, somebody is always watching us. Many years ago as Barb and I were leaving our church several teenage maidens gave me a plate of cookies that they had made. On the plate was a note saying that they had been observing me and it floored me. Why would anyone want to observe my actions let alone some teens? It’s how we act or react to these events, good or bad, that we struggle through in life that others will judge us in ways which could be flattering or unflattering. One may never know who has you under their microscope. And since we don’t know, how do you want to be seen or remembered? As a nag, a bitter old person who has let life beat them down or do you want to be seen like this lady in Ohio who wears her battle scars with humility knowing that when she comes before God she can say, “I have not a single bit of talent left, I used everything up you gave me while I was back on earth.”
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
If Men could Talk
If men could talk
There is an old saying that goes like this, “At twenty we worry what others think about us; at forty we don't care what others think about us and at sixty we discover there wasn't anyone thinking about us in the first place.” Well this past week I turned 66 years young. I received a phone call from my mother (along with a birthday card), my one younger brother and from two of my four children. My wife wished me a happy birthday and that concluded my birthday celebration. I've never had a surprise birthday party given in my honor and probably never will. Now I don't want anyone to assume that I'm being sarcastic, I'm not. Most men I know really don't want the attention or being doted on just because he turned another year older. It ruins our macho image and besides we might just have to act at being humble.
But as we grow older, I'm finding out that circumstances will make us conform to situations we never faced before and we find ourselves becoming vulnerable. When I was much younger I was very “Macho.” A rebel at heart with an attitude of being self sufficient. If someone asked me to do something, I'd learn quickly how to do what was asked or needed to become proficient to do the task. The problem of being self sufficient is, you don't know how to ask for help when you're caught in a dilemma where self sufficiency isn't sufficient. Example, I recently had an physical examination because of some problems we start to face as we age and as a the result of being “Macho” the probability now is that I might have cancer. If I had done what all us men should have been doing sixteen years earlier, there would be no probability of having any cancer today.
So what am I saying? A lot of what I've been writing about is called the male psyche. I'm not a psychologist and I sure would have a hard time trying to explain the male psyche. But if you go to Hardies early in the morning you'll find a good representation of the male psyche in action.
If men could talk, what would they really say? Would you hear about what motivates them? Would you hear their ambitions, deep seated resentments, their intellect, the love of life? How about shame, emotional absence, masculine insecurity to name a few more. I suppose that we men find it hard to go up to his best friend and say, “Hey Bob, how's your masculine insecurity coming along?”
But in reality, we don't want to know because us men won't realize our own shortcomings let alone to recognize the real needs in the lives of our fellow man. And I suppose that is part of being a male.
According to my doctor the odds are, I probably will have cancer and I've now become vulnerable to learning how to live life as a victim or as a survivor. Should I be belligerent and say, “How can this be?” Or accept the obvious knowing that how I've lived in the past governs what is happening today. There was a song that Frank Sinatra sang so many years ago that rings true with so many of us men, “For what is man, what has he got? For not himself, then he is naught to say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels, the record shows I took the blows and did it my way.”
There is an old saying that goes like this, “At twenty we worry what others think about us; at forty we don't care what others think about us and at sixty we discover there wasn't anyone thinking about us in the first place.” Well this past week I turned 66 years young. I received a phone call from my mother (along with a birthday card), my one younger brother and from two of my four children. My wife wished me a happy birthday and that concluded my birthday celebration. I've never had a surprise birthday party given in my honor and probably never will. Now I don't want anyone to assume that I'm being sarcastic, I'm not. Most men I know really don't want the attention or being doted on just because he turned another year older. It ruins our macho image and besides we might just have to act at being humble.
But as we grow older, I'm finding out that circumstances will make us conform to situations we never faced before and we find ourselves becoming vulnerable. When I was much younger I was very “Macho.” A rebel at heart with an attitude of being self sufficient. If someone asked me to do something, I'd learn quickly how to do what was asked or needed to become proficient to do the task. The problem of being self sufficient is, you don't know how to ask for help when you're caught in a dilemma where self sufficiency isn't sufficient. Example, I recently had an physical examination because of some problems we start to face as we age and as a the result of being “Macho” the probability now is that I might have cancer. If I had done what all us men should have been doing sixteen years earlier, there would be no probability of having any cancer today.
So what am I saying? A lot of what I've been writing about is called the male psyche. I'm not a psychologist and I sure would have a hard time trying to explain the male psyche. But if you go to Hardies early in the morning you'll find a good representation of the male psyche in action.
If men could talk, what would they really say? Would you hear about what motivates them? Would you hear their ambitions, deep seated resentments, their intellect, the love of life? How about shame, emotional absence, masculine insecurity to name a few more. I suppose that we men find it hard to go up to his best friend and say, “Hey Bob, how's your masculine insecurity coming along?”
But in reality, we don't want to know because us men won't realize our own shortcomings let alone to recognize the real needs in the lives of our fellow man. And I suppose that is part of being a male.
According to my doctor the odds are, I probably will have cancer and I've now become vulnerable to learning how to live life as a victim or as a survivor. Should I be belligerent and say, “How can this be?” Or accept the obvious knowing that how I've lived in the past governs what is happening today. There was a song that Frank Sinatra sang so many years ago that rings true with so many of us men, “For what is man, what has he got? For not himself, then he is naught to say the things he truly feels, and not the words of one who kneels, the record shows I took the blows and did it my way.”
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
For what ever reason, this little silly childrens' rhyme pops up in my mind. The trouble with things like this is, they reverberate in my mind like some old song of years gone by. At first I thought their might be something behind this little rhyme that I should consider. Isn’t it strange that some senseless limerick we learned way back then just won’t die? I can remember when our children were still infants Barb would recite stories or sing songs that were taught to her when she was a child. Unfortunately life isn’t a fairy tale and “once upon a time” never really existed. But in our minds, as we grow older, we seem to want to remember a time that truly was when growing up in that land of “milk and honey.”
So where am I going with this. There are some things in life that’s hard to explain. Give you an example, if you were in New Orleans this past week you celebrated Mardi gras. It was originally meant as a day for confession just prior to the start of Lent. (And I suppose that there are many people that needed to confess after that night was over.) In this kind of adult playground we hide behind a false mask so that we can let our inhibitions run lose. It’s that Jekyll and Hyde thing. College students have to have that “spring break” for about the same reasons. They don’t want their “education” to interfere with their “studies.” So now we can see the two sides of our human nature. There is the side that needs to remember “Once upon a time” and a side that says, “Walk on the wild side.”
Now I see a need for a way to keep a balance between the two sides, call it a hobby, recreation or religion, a way to keep reality in its place. We need to know where the middle ground is to help keep us sane in a world that is in turmoil. It’s just how far one goes on either side that can lead us into trouble. If we keep ourselves in the “once upon a time” side, we put reality aside. If we walk too far on the “wild side” we lose sight of realism.
If we look to TV and the internet and the newspapers we see more sensationalism that has become the reality of life: Wars and rumors of wars, pestilence and unemployment, national debt beyond any human understanding and belligerency beyond all belief in our political system and finally (?) sex, a multibillion dollar industry.
And maybe that’s my point, in this fast and furious pace of life we have created for ourselves, we need to find firm ground to hold onto to balance this thing we call life. For life, as we are coming to know it, seems like it’s headed to Hell in a hand basket. It becomes each of us then to find firm ground in an otherwise world of thick, slimy, smelly mud.
Hickory, Dickory, Dock, the mouse ran up the clock, saw the time was late, ran down to meet his fate, to hide in fear and dread, poor mousy now is dead, Hickory….Dickory….Dock.
For what ever reason, this little silly childrens' rhyme pops up in my mind. The trouble with things like this is, they reverberate in my mind like some old song of years gone by. At first I thought their might be something behind this little rhyme that I should consider. Isn’t it strange that some senseless limerick we learned way back then just won’t die? I can remember when our children were still infants Barb would recite stories or sing songs that were taught to her when she was a child. Unfortunately life isn’t a fairy tale and “once upon a time” never really existed. But in our minds, as we grow older, we seem to want to remember a time that truly was when growing up in that land of “milk and honey.”
So where am I going with this. There are some things in life that’s hard to explain. Give you an example, if you were in New Orleans this past week you celebrated Mardi gras. It was originally meant as a day for confession just prior to the start of Lent. (And I suppose that there are many people that needed to confess after that night was over.) In this kind of adult playground we hide behind a false mask so that we can let our inhibitions run lose. It’s that Jekyll and Hyde thing. College students have to have that “spring break” for about the same reasons. They don’t want their “education” to interfere with their “studies.” So now we can see the two sides of our human nature. There is the side that needs to remember “Once upon a time” and a side that says, “Walk on the wild side.”
Now I see a need for a way to keep a balance between the two sides, call it a hobby, recreation or religion, a way to keep reality in its place. We need to know where the middle ground is to help keep us sane in a world that is in turmoil. It’s just how far one goes on either side that can lead us into trouble. If we keep ourselves in the “once upon a time” side, we put reality aside. If we walk too far on the “wild side” we lose sight of realism.
If we look to TV and the internet and the newspapers we see more sensationalism that has become the reality of life: Wars and rumors of wars, pestilence and unemployment, national debt beyond any human understanding and belligerency beyond all belief in our political system and finally (?) sex, a multibillion dollar industry.
And maybe that’s my point, in this fast and furious pace of life we have created for ourselves, we need to find firm ground to hold onto to balance this thing we call life. For life, as we are coming to know it, seems like it’s headed to Hell in a hand basket. It becomes each of us then to find firm ground in an otherwise world of thick, slimy, smelly mud.
Hickory, Dickory, Dock, the mouse ran up the clock, saw the time was late, ran down to meet his fate, to hide in fear and dread, poor mousy now is dead, Hickory….Dickory….Dock.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Is our health care system killing us?
Nick Harmon columnist for the Walton Tribune
If you are concerned about Obama"s health care you need to read this book by Dr. Raj Gandhi.
Here's what the San Franscisco Examiner's review
By San Francisco Book Review (San Francisco) - Sense of Direction It Needs to be Restored: Part I Healthcare (Hardcover)
"A nation of 300 million people, the most powerful, most advanced, richest, and yet most indebted, we spend over 15% of the gross domestic product (GDP) on healthcare, which is higher than anywhere else in the world, and still rank 35th on the health care scale of the World Health Organization (WHO) and manage to keep 47 million people without any health insurance coverage. Have we lost our sense of direction?" Dr. Raj Gandhi has written a startling and searing account of our health care crisis and a potential cure to go along with it.
//Sense of Direction// takes its readers through a well-guided maze, from the dark beginnings of a health condition, including the worrisome trip to the hospital emergency room, continuing through to diagnosis, treatment and then, ultimately, the chaos of billing to the patient and the health insurance company. Gandhi's writing style is engaging in that he utilizes the narrative form in the cases of his patients; the information is enhanced by an engrossing story feel, albeit highly infused with medical terminology, which I found to be overwhelming to some degree. Readers across the board will appreciate his short story technique.
Progressing through the chapters, the writing becomes more technical and reads rather like a medical journal, insurance claim, and legislative materials all wrapped into one. The subject is such a highly heated, debated, and relevant reality that it is refreshing to see not only an honest depiction at the travesty of our health-care approaches and the way our citizens are treated (or rather, left untreated), but also a thought-provoking and genuine attempt at a real solution.
The stories of Mrs. Dhareycow, Willy Joe, and even Mrs. Gandhi's stories will fill readers with agony and angst, which are often the preludes to change. This is a read for those in power: lawmakers and voters alike. This is not a lazy day read, not an easy one; it is, however, one that is worth investing in and passing along. It will enlighten, anger, and possibly move you to become part of the change this country so desperately requires.
If you are concerned about Obama"s health care you need to read this book by Dr. Raj Gandhi.
Here's what the San Franscisco Examiner's review
By San Francisco Book Review (San Francisco) - Sense of Direction It Needs to be Restored: Part I Healthcare (Hardcover)
"A nation of 300 million people, the most powerful, most advanced, richest, and yet most indebted, we spend over 15% of the gross domestic product (GDP) on healthcare, which is higher than anywhere else in the world, and still rank 35th on the health care scale of the World Health Organization (WHO) and manage to keep 47 million people without any health insurance coverage. Have we lost our sense of direction?" Dr. Raj Gandhi has written a startling and searing account of our health care crisis and a potential cure to go along with it.
//Sense of Direction// takes its readers through a well-guided maze, from the dark beginnings of a health condition, including the worrisome trip to the hospital emergency room, continuing through to diagnosis, treatment and then, ultimately, the chaos of billing to the patient and the health insurance company. Gandhi's writing style is engaging in that he utilizes the narrative form in the cases of his patients; the information is enhanced by an engrossing story feel, albeit highly infused with medical terminology, which I found to be overwhelming to some degree. Readers across the board will appreciate his short story technique.
Progressing through the chapters, the writing becomes more technical and reads rather like a medical journal, insurance claim, and legislative materials all wrapped into one. The subject is such a highly heated, debated, and relevant reality that it is refreshing to see not only an honest depiction at the travesty of our health-care approaches and the way our citizens are treated (or rather, left untreated), but also a thought-provoking and genuine attempt at a real solution.
The stories of Mrs. Dhareycow, Willy Joe, and even Mrs. Gandhi's stories will fill readers with agony and angst, which are often the preludes to change. This is a read for those in power: lawmakers and voters alike. This is not a lazy day read, not an easy one; it is, however, one that is worth investing in and passing along. It will enlighten, anger, and possibly move you to become part of the change this country so desperately requires.
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