Forgiveness, Redemption

I have been struggling with something lately.

Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about animals. Animals in general and dogs in particular.

I love them. I simply love them.

You can imagine how I felt when the Michael Vick/dogfighting scandal initially broke. I was crushed, and horrified, and disgusted, and angry. My husband and I sent strongly worded emails to just about everyone involved, including Roger Goddell, NFL Commissioner.

(I know, you're all shocked. Deanne have an opinion? And express it? Who'd have thunk it!)

Yes. I did express myself over the situation.

So, I was very glad when he was convicted and lost his job and went to prison. I was very glad. In my personal opinion it wasn't punishment enough, but at least it was something. In fact, Mr. Vick should probably thank his lucky stars that I was no where close to being personally involved in this case. The bottom of the prison would be all that he'd see ever again.

Anyway. Michael Vick has met his prison term and was released recently. I can't argue since he served the time he was given, with the usual shortcuts. He was still conditionally suspended by the NFL - all dependent on if a team was willing to sign him and even then he could only practice for now. May or may not get to play in the regular season.

Here's my struggle.

I know on one level that if someone is truly sorry for his actions, serves his or her time, accepts the punishment, seeks redemption, we're supposed to forgive.

The saying is forgive and forget, but I doubt that I'll ever forget.

I guess I'm just not sure that he is really and truly sorry - sorry for the action, not just sorry that he was caught. Because at first he didn't own up to it. He was fully prepared to throw his buddies under the bus.

Did he really learn anything? Has he changed? Just working with the Humane Society and giving children lectures on the evils of dogfighting does not seem to be cutting it with me.

I want to believe. I want to think he'll be a better person and that I can forgive him. I don't even know why I think it is important to forgive him, except that I think on some level I'm supposed to. That it would be the right thing to do.

Wouldn't it?

I just think that what he did was so horrible and devoid of any feeling for a living creature that I have to wonder if he could redeemed. Can you commit those acts and then suddenly go on as if you didn't? Can a person honestly and truly leave that kind of lifestyle behind?

I hope so.

Here's the ironic thing about the whole situation.

The dogs would forgive. They would forgive and never blink an eye. They would lick his face and wag their tails. That is what is so heartbreaking. The men and women who support dogfighting and train these animals to hang from trees and attack each other feed on the unconditional love that the dogs have for their owners and the insatiable need that the dogs have to please. Those dogs will do anything to get positive attention from the humans - and I use that term loosely - that treat them so poorly. They will very literally fight to the death just to receive a pat on the head and a "good boy!".

I read an article in Sunday's paper about a woman in Los Angeles who has for several years run a "rescue mission" of sorts. She currently has 225 pit bulls that have been saved, and she is assisted by parolee volunteers (none of those listed had dogfighting on their rap sheets). I guess she's trying to save man and beast. I applaud her efforts. (No Mom, we're not getting into the business. We're full and out of space now! No worries!)

So, I watch the news and hear the stories of Michael Vick - practicing with the Philadelphia Eagles, making the talk show circuits and giving his talks to the youth of America - and I wonder why I can't forgive him.

I guess the dogs are better men than I.

Living Life, Learning Lessons

When I was in the 6Th grade the President, Jimmy Carter I believe, started promoting a new fitness program for youth. Part of the program was a test at the end. You had to run a specified distance, throw a softball and hang from a chin bar (boys had to do pull ups).

I was fairly "sickly" (as the old folks would say) as a child. Sometimes going outside to play could very literally be a matter of life and death. I remember many times being rushed to the doctor after just a regular afternoon of being out.

So, the fitness test seemed to be pretty much out of the question for me.

Now, the rewards for all this "fitness" were patches. Not sure where you were supposed to put the patches but there was white for the third level, red for the second level and the Presidential medal for the top level. Your level was determined based on how fast you could run, how far you could throw and how long you could hang.

I really couldn't do any of the three.

And the prospects of achieving of these skills in a really short period of time were fairly nonexistent.

My 12 year old brain thought surely if my doctor explained to the teacher that I couldn't physically participate then I would be excused and there had to be patch for that.

Had to be.

That was 30 years ago. In today's society I probably would have been correct. Now everyone gets a reward just for participating. (Some of you may argue with me but you know deep down that I'm right.)

But my 12 year old brain didn't think it was fair to be "punished" for something that I couldn't do. It wasn't that I didn't want to or wasn't trying, I just couldn't.

To both my parents' credit, they agreed to let me "train". This had to be hard for them. I'm sure that every time Daddy and I went to the high school track for me to run 40 yards or we went out in the front yard to throw the softball they probably held their collective breaths. A parents' first instinct is to protect their child and those asthma attacks could sneak up almost without warning.

And inhalers for kids weren't invented yet.

Daddy and I worked for whatever time we had, maybe a month or so, and then the big day came.

And I did it.

I earned a white patch.

I doubt there were any extra seconds on the run or the hang and no extra inches on the softball throw, but I did meet the minimum requirements.

I had achieved what I didn't think I could.

This story occurred to me as I was jogging the other day.

Yes, I said it - jogging. She who couldn't run to the corner and back can almost run a mile and half now.

And I thought to myself, what if I'd been allowed to just get a patch for participating? What if Mom and Dad hadn't been willing to let me try? I'm sure one asthma attack would have put a stop that. What if I'd been willing to settle, to not push myself?

What are children learning today - those that don't get to keep score so no one loses, those who all get a reward no matter what they do or don't do? They may not ever learn to see what is on the other side, to see what all they are capable of, to know the real feeling of accomplishment.

And I think that's kind of sad. Everyone needs a goal. We need to be able to handle defeat and feel the pride of achievement. Because life is full of both. We all need to push ourselves a little and expand our boundaries and horizons. Not just always accept the situation on its face but work to do things better or differently. Challenge ourselves.

What is life without a challenge?

I hope I never find out.

Its All in the View

So many topics, so little time.

First of all, before I climb my soapbox, let me say unequivocally that the United States of America is the best nation in the world in which to live. That does not mean, however, that I don't occasionally fantasize about an island in the Caribbean with just the husband and the dogs where we are in charge. No rules, no laws, no nothing. (No shoes, No shirt, No problems - Kenny Chesney)

Now that we're clear on that, let the blogging begin.

This country was founded on political dissonance. A group of forward-thinking men got together a couple of hundred years ago to discuss the problems with the British monarchy. Their solution - a representative, two-party system with elected officials and three branches of government to keep the other branches in check.

Sounds good.

You know there were arguments and loud conversations and any number of ideas tossed around and debated. Late night conversations. You've all seen the drawings of the Founding Fathers in the meeting hall, fingers raised, passions evident.

So what has happened?

Now the two-party system is a dividing line. It was originally an idea to make sure that we never had a monarchy again. That one person would not determine the fate of the country without question. Now. Not so much. It is our guy against your guy. Our guy is best and shame on you for thinking otherwise.

This goes for both sides.

Problem is, we all take sides also. And our view of the situation at hand sometimes clouds our overall judgment.

For example. I get tons of political emails forwarded to me. But in today's electronic world how do you know what to believe? I remember during the election receiving an email with photos of Sarah Palin holding a gun, holding a glass of wine in a short skirt, etc. Ugly things being said about her not being fit to serve. A little research on my part (clicked on snopes.com) proved that the pictures were Photoshopped and not real. So how much else is not real? Did the current President really misspell/misspeak/misuse the word "advice" as stated in another email I received the other day? Don't know yet. The point of the email was that Dan Quayle was practically crucified for misspelling potato (with no one pointing out that he was reading a flash card that a teacher wrote) and the press is overlooking a similar mistake by President Obama. But all of these emails are sent as if they are Gospel-truth and the senders are passionate about their point of view.

We also have all the town hall meetings. When the protesters shouted down the elected officials discussing going to war in Iraq under President Bush one party embraced the protests and encouraged them. Now that people are protesting the current President's health care reform plan that same party is calling the protesters "un-American".

I don't care which side of the fence you fall on with respect to health care reform, nothing could be more American that political discourse. These debates that are currently springing up could not be MORE American.

But why do we have to take sides in quite this manner? Can't we all talk about the issues and try to meet in the middle?

Our current health care system has flaws. Anyone that disagrees with that is just being disagreeable. It costs too much, insurance is too expensive for we what we get, and malpractice lawsuits are a off the charts.

But should the government be providing it? I'm part of the generation that is pretty sure we'll never see the Social Security benefits that we will have paid for over 40 years so having another government program to nationalize health care doesn't mean a whole lot. And where in our Constitutional rights does it say that health care is a universal entitlement?

I have to say that I'm proud of both sides of our Houses for not rushing the vote on health care reform before going on vacation for the month of August. I'm very glad to see some actual thought going into this decision and the town hall meetings are inspired. Elected officials actually meeting with, and hopefully listening to, their constituents. As long as it isn't just lip service I will be impressed. I am a realist, though, so I'm reserving judgment for the moment.

It just seems that we've gotten really far from the original intent when this country was founded. All the processes were put in place to prevent one person from having absolute power. Now, it seems that one side pushes for that absolute power - as long as it is "their" guy.

So, whether you are patriotic or un-American all depends on your view. Whether or not you are a hero or villain; whether we all make it to the Promised Land or go to Hades in a handcart - all depends on your view.

I wish we could all be thinkers, listeners. Bring all the ideas to the table in a collective effort. Have our representative spend some time talking to those they represent to see what thoughts they would like presented. So many things that could be done differently, better.

And all of it would still be in the spirit of the original intent of those wonderful men who had a plan, a dream, a vision of a better government.

Men with a view.

There's Lives at Stake Here People!

When most of us chose our career paths it was based on something in which we excelled or for which we felt a passion. I realize some people aren't that lucky and have to accept whatever job they can find or qualify for or that is available.

I also understand that sometimes employers are left hiring someone that may or may not be the most optimal for the job.

But come on, if you are going to accept a job where you have the lives of others in your hands I have a certain level of expectation. I may be one of those people.

How many news stories do we have to hear about major mass transit accidents that are the result of the operators/controllers either talking or texting on their cell phones? OK, to be fair, I don't know that the air traffic controller involved in the accident of the tour helicopter and small plane was on a cell phone, but he was on a personal phone call.

Lines have to be drawn. And clearly the rules of proper behavior have to be spelled out since the drivers/operators/controllers don't seem to have the common sense necessary to understand that if you are running a passenger train, or a subway train, or any other vehicle of mass public transit then you need to leave your cell phone at home.

Period.

If I goof up at my job people don't die. They may owe more taxes or have to refund grant monies or they may get a refund with interest but they live to see another day. And we aren't permitted to use our cell phones at work.

Cell phones have their place, don't misunderstand me. I resisted the urge to get one for a long time and one week after I finally gave in I was traveling alone (although there were 3 dogs with me so I wasn't alone but rather without assistance) from Little Rock to Kansas City and had a flat tire in the foothills of Missouri. I was about 20 minutes over the Arkansas/Missouri state line, which is to say I was in the middle of nowhere. In that situation the cell phone was a godsend.

But back then all you could do on a cell phone was make phone calls. Now you can check your email, trade stocks, take pictures, shoot a video, email that to your buddies, text your friends, leave your grocery list on a voice memo, play games, and listen to music.

Do everything except really and truly connect with people.

I have posted before that I am fairly "into" all this electronic stuff. I have Facebook, Twitter, Zannel, and MySpace pages; ipods, and a BlackBerry and Palm graveyard as I upgrade with technology but I do try to be mindful of talking while driving. My car is bluetooth-equipped so it will answer my phone for me if it rings and I can talk hands free. But this is the first car I've had that did so.

I'm not perfect and I know I'm not. I've done stupid stuff while driving and gotten lucky. But, as I said, I really do try not to. But driving strangers and running mass transit vehicles is not my job.

I guess I'm just truly fascinated that these people have to be told to not take their cell phones on the trains, or to let someone else (untrained) drive the trains. They are holding our lives in our hands, literally, and I expect better.

Dancing In The Rain

A friend of mine used the following for her Facebook status the other day: "Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass, it is about learning to dance in the rain".

She told me I could use it. She had "borrowed" it from someone else. So it is uncredited, and I hope I got it right. I'm pretty sure I at least got it close to correct.

While I was thinking about this earlier this afternoon I discovered a companion phrase. A couple of years ago I had to give up watching "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" because I ended up crying through most of it. It became too draining. But I stumbled on a rerun episode today and watched it. And yes, I cried. But that is beside the point.

In this episode a husband and father of four died at a young age of cancer. The design team built a memorial bench and inscribed one of his signature phrases. "There are plenty of things to think about, but nothing to worry about." I believe his name was Matt Keopke.

To me, the two sentiments go together. So much in our world is out of our control. Out of our hands. So why worry? Will it change anything? Probably not. To me, not worrying is an example of learning to dance in the rain.

Life brings storms. It could be health issues, job worries, marital problems. Any of these and so many other things can be the storms in our lives. Life is all about how you handle those "storms".

Another phrase I particularly like starts like this: "Life is not about the destination, it is about the journey." There are lots of endings to the phrase but I like the beginning. I know there are folks who will disagree. To them life is all about getting to Heaven some day so it is about the destination - and the journey. You can only get there by living a good life. But I still want to focus on the journey.

Dance in the rain. Sitting around and fretting about things you can't change won't actually get you anywhere. Can actually make things worse. Learn to roll with the punches. Take what you're handed and make lemonade, or margaritas, or lemon chess squares; whatever makes you happy.

And don't wish for the storm to pass too quickly. Often the turbulent times in our lives are when we learn the most about ourselves. Something inside, our true nature, gets revealed when we are faced with problems or adversity. We sometimes get to see ourselves as others see us, or how we want to be.

We get handed many opportunities in the course of a lifetime to watch the storm clouds gather. We can hear the thunder off in the distance. You have a choice. Sit back and wait. Someone else will take care of the problem or it will resolve itself in time. Or dance. Kick off your shoes and get out there.

Dance.

Which makes me think of another quote. I'm not sure of the whole thing, but part of it says "Dance like no one is watching."

Thank You Danny Ward

In March of 1988 I met a man that would eventually change my life.

Danny Ward knew my sister from the softball fields. Many of her friends played ball and she hung out there a lot. Now, I have no idea how Danny knew about me or anything but my sister told me he wanted to take me out. She said he was a very nice guy. I had just broken up for the second, and final, time with a guy that I'd been involved with since I was 15 (I was now 21, almost 22). The first time we had broken up I was devastated. The second time was at my choice so I was ready to meet other people.

I wasn't looking for anything long-term or permanent, just wanted to have some fun before my college days were over and work would start.

So we went out and had a nice time. Very casual and relaxing evening. I think we went bowling.

Then he called again asking me to come watch a ball tournament being held in the town where I attended college over the upcoming weekend. I truly didn't want to go. Hanging out at ball fields was not my cup of tea, I didn't want Danny to get the wrong impression that I was more interested in him than I was, and that weekend was orientation weekend for incoming students and parents and as a Student Host I had to be ready to "work" at like 6:30 on Saturday morning. Just seemed like a good idea all the way around to just skip the ballgames.

Then I read an article in a women's magazine that simply said if you have no other plans and are asked out you should go. You might actually have a good time and it beats staying home to do nothing. So my roommate and I went but we didn't really watch the game. And then I got talked into going Saturday after my Student Host duties were over. I was so tired from being up the previous night late and getting up early that I literally dozed through that ballgame. They had to wake me when it was over.

As I'm putting my lawn chair in the back of Danny's car I see a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye and turned to looked. Driving that cherry red IROC Camero was one of the best looking men I had ever seen. All I could do was look.

We pull into the fast food restaurant for lunch and there's the guy again. I start asking questions at this point. Turned out he was on Danny's team and only went by a nickname so Danny didn't know his real name.

I know now that I didn't handle this situation very well, but I started hanging out at the ball field. It took me 6 weeks before I finally convinced this man that I was not in any exclusive relationship and could certainly go on a date with him.

Once he started to get the hints and "see the light" he walked up to me one Saturday afternoon at a ballgame and announced - "I'm going to marry you."

And 20 years ago today, he did.

We hadn't even had our first date yet when he made that declaration. And it wasn't a question or a musing. It was a declarative sentence.

That was in late May 1988. The first weekend of August 1988 we were looking at engagement rings. You see, even though I answered his statement with "You don't even know me. Maybe you should get to know me first" and all kinds of warning bells were going off in my brain, it didn't take me long to know that he was The One.

On December 21 I came home from the grocery store to fix dinner for the two of us and we nearly got into a knock-down-drag-out over the star on my Christmas tree being crooked. He kept telling me that it being off-kilter was bothering him. I kept pointing out that he was almost as tall as the tree and he could very easily straighten it if it was bothering him that much. After much back and forth and me seriously getting angry I finally grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, stomped over to the tree and climbed up.

And there it was. My engagement ring was hanging on one of the top branches, just sparkling in the tree lights. I hadn't known that he'd gone back and bought it. He was working, at that time, for a manufacturing company and barely made minimum wage so it had taken him from August until then to pay for it.

That is one of the reasons why I'll never trade it in for anything bigger or fancier or anything like that. This ring is extra special.

Most people in the church on that hot August afternoon probably wouldn't have laid odds that we'd last six months. We were just about as opposite as two people could be in just about every aspect of our lives. But we loved each other and that was all that we could see that mattered. Everything else would work itself out.

And it has.

The last 20 years have been wonderful. There were some very tough times and a couple of instances where we almost called it quits. But those are the normal bumps that marriages go through. We worked on them and came out stronger on the other side. He has stood beside me through some incredibly difficult times. I can say unequivocally that I wouldn't have made it without him.

So, to my Rock, Right-hand, and any other adjective you can think of, I say thank you. Thank you for all that you do and all that you are. I pray every night that we get many many more years together. Thank you for making me the happiest woman.

And thank you Danny Ward for inviting me to that first ballgame. Things might have gotten a little awkward that summer and you never intended to play matchmaker, but you did. And I thank you.

Old Friends, New Faces

No, I'm not implying that any of my classmates have had plastic surgery.

It was really wonderful to see old friends the other night. I was sorry I couldn't see more of them. Several people went to the Friday night function instead of the Saturday night but I was unable to get into town on Friday night, so I missed them.

Most everyone looked the same. At least recognizable. The memory fails you on the names, but the faces you recognized.

You recognized them, but they were changed. You could see not wrinkles, but wisdom. Eyes that saw a different future than that of 25 years ago. Eyes that had seen a lot in the last 25 years.



Some of our classmates are ill. You could see the worry lurking behind their eyes. Others are sending their children off to college or into the world. A little apprehension, maybe, creeps into their faces when they think about the unknown.

We've almost all lost loved ones. There have been divorces and new loves. We've had classmates serve in war. We have ministers and moms, professionals and those who are still finding their way, police officers, doctors, photographers and almost everything else in between.

And it shows on our faces.

It takes a little longer to "fix" the face maybe. Might be touching up the gray on the temples. Might be doing a lot of things to make the progression of time a little less obvious. The faces are a little more tired than the ones in the 1984 yearbook.

But the eyes are hard to hide and that is where I saw the most change. All of our eyes teared a little when the slide show played. Some were tears of laughter and others sadness at the classmates already passed.

But all-in-all, a good weekend. A time for reconnection. A time for stories and sharing. A chance to realize that you aren't the only one going through something.

You have a friend.



Many friends!

I hope that we can take what we gained this weekend and run with it. Up to and past the 30th reunion.

In 1984 we had the whole world in front of us and time was just an abstract concept. Not so much any more. Time and its passage have taken on a whole new meaning.

Make the most of it. Don't waste a second!

And if you didn't make this reunion, try really hard for the next one. It was worth every second.

And none of know how many seconds we have left.