Hear it Every Christmas Time

I was at a nonprofit business meeting last week, and as we prepared to leave I asked the others about their holiday plans. Holiday, not Christmas. One of the other people there is a practicing Jew. I wasn't concerned about offending her, she would have smiled and answered politely, it just seemed to be the considerate thing for me to do, not to single her out in some way and not to act as if I didn't know or care that she held a faith tradition that was unique in the room. I happened to know someone in that group would not celebrate a traditional Christmas, but for those same reasons (basic kindness and consideration of others) I act similarly if I'm talking with someone, or a group of people, that I don't know their traditions.

So it really baffles me when Focus on the Family wastes resources evaluating whether WalMart and Banana Republic "openly recognize Christmas." The comments posted about the retailers are quite, well, un-christmas. This counterattack on a perceived "War on Christmas" is somewhat of a mini-movement. I could understand the concern if someone was trying to celebrate Christmas and was hushed, or somehow singled out for their Christmas beliefs. No, this is an anger directed at retailers who dare to be "inclusive." In addition to being the opposite of the spirit of Christmas, it gets downright strange when the anger is directed at retailers - because nothing says "Christ" like consumerism? I'll let someone else tackle that one: "Christians get all bent out of shape over the fact that someone didn't say 'Merry Christmas' when I walked into the store. But why are we expecting the store to tell our story? That's just ridiculous." That's from a guy who helped start Advent Conspiracy, a pretty courageous group, if you ask me.

By the way, is it really fair to complain about someone possibly "taking Christ out of Christmas" when a 4th Century Catholic Pope started Christmas by injecting his Christ into someone else's holiday? Maybe Pagans are somewhere organizing boycotts of stores that say Merry Christmas...

Happy Holidays!

Unholy Clouds Reflect in a Minaret

As of now, it is illegal to construct a minaret in Switzerland.

I'm not sure what's more shocking: that the symbol of a major religion has been banned in Europe, that it was Switzerland that did it, or that other major religions do not seem to realize the danger this represents to them.


In November, Swiss voters overwhelmingly approved the ban on new construction of the towers. I've read that of Switzerland's 7.7 million people, there are about 400,000 Muslims with 150 mosques but only 4 minarets. It's no shock that the ban was promoted with fear:


It's such an interesting poster, though, because it does tap a fear. But when I take a minute and think, I have to say, I can't remember a missile from a predominantly Muslim country hitting a non-Muslim country. I can think of Western missiles hitting predominantly Muslim countries. Is the fear being stoked that the extremists who have distorted and defiled Islam will copy those who have distorted and defiled Christianity?

Non-Muslim Germans are also concerned about the impact of Muslim immigrants on Germany's culture. A former finance minister said recently about the Turkish and Arab immigrants in Berlin, "I don't need to respect anyone who lives off the state, denies the state, doesn't do anything to educate their kids, and just produces more headscarf girls." Though elected officials there denounce the statement, Germany's Immigration Minister said that she is working to implement an "integration contract" for immigrants to Germany. It will reportedly include requirements ranging from respecting equal rights for women to learning the German language. Like the minaret ban in Switzerland, this German proposal sounds like more fear. Fear of those not like us.

While I don't agree with the minaret ban or what seems to be the intent and content of the integration contract, I do believe everyone, regardless of religion, should be subject to the laws of the land where they live. If someone is doing something illegal, like Christians purporting to marry underage girls in Utah or Muslims maiming young girls in Germany, by all means use law enforcement to stop them. I believe this should include equal treatment for women, of course, and would gladly support applying all discrimination laws to religions (hard to believe those institutions whose missions should embody love are exempt from some discrimination laws). I don't believe the dominant practice of Islam treats women equally, and I don't believe the dominant practice of Christianity does either.

What I'm seeing in these examples from Europe are reactions to fears, sometimes hypocritical reactions, and reactions aimed at appearances that will do nothing about legitimate concerns for safety and equality. I believe a better choice is enforce the laws we have and welcome our brothers and sisters with open arms even if it means less for us (and who cares what language they choose to speak!).

Intransigence is all Around, Military Still in Town

Last night a somber President Obama explained to a room full of young US military officers why he was sending them to Afghanistan. To begin, Obama effectively re-tied Afghanistan to the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The President reminded us that nearly everyone agreed, at the time, invading that country was necessary to prevent further attacks on the US. Building on that, Obama argued that there is a resurgence of long-range terrorist strike capability in the region along the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan. His conclusion is increased military involvement in the short term is necessary to reduce the capability of harm and to stabilize the Afghan government so it can protect and provide for its people.

Put in other terms, it's a continuation of the belief that it is better to inflict violence and death THERE so we don't have those things HERE. Regardless of whether I judge that as just or as a necessary evil or as simply evil, I believe it's important to state it honestly. Even the stabilization of Afghanistan requires the calculation that it is okay to kill some innocent people as long as it saves other innocent people.

Securing our safety and their safety are virtuous objectives, the highest calling of the human race. But it seems to me that a misbelief continues, firmly entrenched, in our attempts to reach these objectives: the misbelief that violence will ever end violence.

I hope for the safety of that beautiful country and my beautiful Afghan brothers and sisters. I ache for the violence and fear brought to them by those with evil intentions, and those with virtuous intentions.



As I mentioned, the President gave his speech to West Point cadets. I noticed that the name of the hall was Eisenhower Hall. It seems appropriate, then, to quote President Eisenhower, to quote beliefs he formed after witnessing the horrors of war.

Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed.

This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. The cost of one modern heavy bomber is this: a modern brick school in more than 30 cities. It is two electric power plants, each serving a town of 60,000 population. It is two fine, fully equipped hospitals.

It is some 50 miles of concrete highway. We pay for a single fighter with a half million bushels of wheat. We pay for a single destroyer with new homes that could have housed more than 8,000 people.

This, I repeat, is the best way of life to be found on the road the world has been taking.

This is not a way of life at all, in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.

Movember - Finally Over

The entire experience may have been worth this one photo. That, and the money we raised. Thanks mostly to the efforts of myself and E.C., our team, ShowMeMos, is #991 nationally in raising money. So thanks to those that gave, and for those that were going to, we still have a chance to climb the rankings through December 5th. You can still give.

Some important team members are missing, but here is most of the team and the spectacle that was Movember.

Movember Update

One week to go!

Growing a "mo" has been an uncomfortable experience, physically and socially. But just a few days ago I was reminded of the seriousness behind our silly fundraiser. A guy at my work was diagnosed with prostate cancer and is undergoing surgery. He's a runner, in great shape, and always has a very positive attitude. It's sobering.

I've helped raise $150.00 from people at my office. If you haven't given and have an opportunity, you can donate any amount, it's all helpful:
http://us.movember.com/mospace/253642

Consumer Complaint about Bluegreen Corp

I feel like a sucker, but in the hopes of sparing someone, anyone, here is the letter I sent to Bluegreen Corp (and I sent a similar one to Bass Pro who promoted the sales event).

On Saturday November 14, 2009, I attended a Bluegreen sales presentation at The Falls Village in Branson, MO. I am writing today to let you know I am very disappointed in the experience, and to let you know that your reputation has been severely damaged for me. I also want you to know that I have written Bass Pro to let them know that it is harming its reputation by associating itself with the behavior I experienced at a Bluegreen sales presentation.

Prior to the sales presentation, my experience with Bluegreen was actually very positive. The phone operators were professional, courteous and helpful. Check-in at The Falls Village was also quickly managed and professionally handled. The accommodations provided by Bluegreen were also satisfactory. I was even interested in the Bluegreen product, as my family takes regular vacations.

The sales presentation and one-on-one sales experience, however, were unprofessional and offensive. I am sure you are no stranger to the "time" complaint, so I'll not bother to explain in detail how the sales experience was 3 hours instead of the promised "approximately 90-120 minutes." It seems elementary to me that Bluegreen would be far better off being truthful about the time commitment. My wife and I had arranged for childcare based on a 2-hour presentation, not 3 hours. Starting off a sales event with low credibility is a very poor way to begin. Better yet, Bluegreen could reduce the time spent in group presentation.

The group presentation that I attended in Branson included racist jokes from the group presenter (I think his name was Kevin), who also expounded for a full 5 minutes or longer that the problem with today's kids is that "they are not whipped enough." Unnecessary, incorrect and terribly unprofessional.

I save the worst for last, however, in that the one-on-one sales presentation was even more unprofessional and a ridiculous attempt to intimidate and even insult me and my wife. It was someone named Jerry Miller and I signed a formal complaint with the local Bluegreen manager about his behavior.

Frankly, I do not expect my concerns will change your sales model, but I write anyway in the hopes that someone may be spared my experience.

Now I have gift cards for Bass Pro merchandise and I can honestly tell you it was not worth it and I have no appetite to give Bluegreen or Bass Pro any business, not even for free with these cards and certainly not my hard-earned money in the future. I am very disappointed in Bluegreen's behavior and in Bass Pro for aligning itself with these tactics.

UPDATE After posting this and within a couple hours of emailing Bluegreen, I got a call from Bluegreen headquarters in FL. The woman apologized and asked for details. She apologized for everything from the time to the specific behavior. She promised follow-up with the Branson people involved and gave me her contact information. Impressive response.

Under a Blood Red Sky a Crowd has Gathered

"The U.S.S. New York reached New York City Monday morning, sweeping under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, pausing at the World Trade Center site and pushing along the Upper West Side before circling around, like a contestant in a beauty pageant, to dock in Midtown Manhattan.


It was the end of an inaugural five-day voyage from Norfolk, Va., for the ship’s official commissioning into the Navy fleet on Saturday, as well as an emotional 'homecoming' for a vessel that was named for the state after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, and has 7.5 tons of steel from the twin towers cast into its bow..."

The celebrity of this ship is the melted steel from the twin towers of New York. Ship-builders, sailors, politicians and family members of 9/11 victims attest to the hallowed anatomy of this ship, advertised by the Navy as "designed and built to fight." The unmistakable message is reverent but vengeful. A brother of a 9/11 victim gave the honest statement, "I really like the idea of people going out and avenging what happened to us." Charlie Daniels' crass song in "tribute" promotes the ship as a "bringer of vengeance" and "bearer of truth's deadly force" created to "hunt down our enemies."

I feel the primal urge too, it wasn't my family and I didn't know those killed on 9/11, but I stood next to the still-reeking mountain of rubble just 4 weeks after 9/11. I mourned the loss of life there and took satisfaction in the swift and efficient annihilation of some of the people that supported the government that gave safe-haven to the 9/11 killers.

But now I question, 8 years later, hundreds of billions of dollars spent, two countries invaded, thousands and thousands of people killed. Is another vehicle of violence, even more efficient and more lethal then ever, really the best tribute to those killed? Appropriate and ample reverence for the innocent lives lost on American soil, but not a whisper for the innocent lives lost in our hunt for our enemies? We spent over one billion dollars on the USS New York. Even if the goal was safety, is the best use of One Billion dollars to build a larger and better weapon?

Must the cycle continue? They struck us, so we strike back harder. They killed some of us, so we kill even more of them.

Are we not sick of it YET?!

This ship will not stop the violence. Five Hundred ships like this will not stop the violence. But they would keep the violence away from us... Is that the goal?

Revenge is hard work and battle takes courage, but forgiveness is harder work and peace takes stronger courage.

Movember

I'm always up for a gimmick. If the fun also benefits something worthwhile, even better. In the month of November, now known as Movember, I will be growing a moustache. It's a worldwide event to raise awareness and funding for research of cancers that affect men, specifically prostate and testicular cancer. I'm more into the awareness than the fundraising, but if you would like to donate, you can HERE. Any amount, no matter how small (no pun intended) is welcome.

Here's my starting shot:


By the end of Movember I think I'll look like Josh Brolin from "No Country For Old Men."


Or maybe I'll go with the "Clark Gable" for the ladies.



I'll keep you posted. Or, maybe I'll only email the updates to those that donate...

Under the Crescent Moon

This week I read the astounding, first-hand account of a New York Times reporter who was captured by the Taliban in Afghanistan, along with his translator and driver.


All were held hostage in Pakistan for over 7 months, before he and his translator escaped. The story is a chilling portrait of the mindset of the fighters and a discouraging look into the political realities of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border.

The story is fascinating for many reasons, but it is also timely given the tipping point that the U.S. seems to be at with its battle in Afghanistan and Pakistan. President Obama sent more troops to Afghanistan this year, and more already on the way, which will bring the total there to 68,000. And the general in command in Afghanistan has requested more troops, up to 40,000 more. Meanwhile Afghanistan is trying to hold a runoff presidential election, and Pakistan seems to actually be taking on the Taliban and/or Al Qaeda that has taken over parts of Pakistan.

It's tempting to read stories like this hostage one, remember that a US soldier is being held hostage there, see the mounting deaths of Americans and Afghanis, military and civilian, and just say, "Get us out of there."

How do you weigh the cost of staying against the cost of leaving? Yes, the reality is gut-wrenching with unyielding anger and senseless violence, and maddening with its futility of political partnerships and inconsistent Western involvement. But there are also those, like the translator held hostage, who are the larger part of the population and who would partner with legitimate and consistent efforts to bring peace to their families. I saw it put this way recently:

The hell of withdrawal is what kind of drama would fill the vacuum, who would re-emerge, who would be empowered, what Pakistan would look like with a newly redrawn reality in the neighborhood, what tremors would shake the ground there as the U.S. troops march out. It is the hell of a great nation that had made a commitment in retreat, abandoning not only its investment of blood and treasure but those on the ground, and elsewhere, who had one way or another cast their lot with us. It would involve the hell, too, of a U.N. commitment, an allied commitment, deflated to the point of collapse.

The hell of staying is equally clear, and vivid: more loss of American and allied troops, more damage to men and resources, an American national debate that would be a continuing wound and possibly a debilitating one, an overstretched military given no relief and in fact stretched thinner, a huge and continuing financial cost in a time when our economy is low. There is no particular guarantee of, or even a completely persuasive definition of, success. And Pakistan may blow anyway.

The debate is over which hell is less damaging in the long term, which hell is more livable.

So which hell is the better choice? Or is there an alternative? Are the only choices abandoning the vulnerable population or waging an ugly and violent war?

The Rich Stay Healthy, The Sick Stay Poor

Health care reform is moving again in Congress. I believe there are two viable bills in the Senate and one in the House. The belief is that the two Senate bills will be combined in some way, then the House and Senate bill will go to conference.

It's hard for me to call these bills "reform." I guess it might change things for the better, but I apparently need to grieve the lost opportunity for what I believe to be the needed change: universal coverage and a single payer system.

Here's where I start the health care discussion: EVERY human being is Yahweh’s child and protecting the health of every human being is a profoundly important personal and communal responsibility. The proposal that best meets those values, that I have seen so far, was put forward by George McGovern. To steward my energy, I copy his proposal:

It's Simple: Medicare for All
By George S. McGovern
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Washington Post

For many years, a handful of American political leaders -- including the late senator Ted Kennedy and now President Obama -- have been trying to gain passage of comprehensive health care for all Americans. As far back as President Harry S. Truman, they have urged Congress to act on this national need. In a presentation before a joint session of Congress last week, Obama offered his view of the best way forward.

But what seems missing in the current battle is a single proposal that everyone can understand and that does not lend itself to demagoguery. If we want comprehensive health care for all our citizens, we can achieve it with a single sentence: Congress hereby extends Medicare to all Americans.

Those of us over 65 have been enjoying this program for years. I go to the doctor or hospital of my choice, and my taxes pay all the bills. It's wonderful. But I would have appreciated it even more if my wife and children and I had had such health-care coverage when we were younger. I want every American, from birth to death, to get the kind of health care I now receive. Removing the payments now going to the insurance corporations would considerably offset the tax increase necessary to cover all Americans.

I don't feel as though the government is meddling in my life when it pays my doctor and hospital fees. There are some things the government does that I don't like -- most notably getting us into needless wars that cost many times what health care for all Americans would cost. Investing in the health of our citizens will enhance the well-being and security of the nation.

We know that Medicare has worked well for half a century for those of us over 65. Why does it become "socialized medicine" when we extend it to younger Americans?

Taking such a shortsighted view would leave nearly 50 million Americans without health insurance and without the means to buy it. It would leave other Americans struggling to pay the rising cost of insurance premiums. These private insurance plans are frequently terminated if the holder contracts a serious long-term ailment. And some people lose their insurance if they lose their jobs or if the plant where they work moves to another location -- perhaps overseas.

We recently bailed out the finance houses and banks to the tune of $700 billion. A country that can afford such an outlay while paying for wars in Iraq and Afghanistan can afford to do what every other advanced democracy has done: underwrite quality health care for all its citizens.

If Medicare needs a few modifications in order to serve all Americans, we can make such adjustments now or later. But let's make sure Congress has an up or down vote on Medicare for all before it adjourns this year. Let's not waste time trying to reinvent the wheel. We all know what Medicare is. Do we want health care for all, or only for those over 65? ...

Head First, Then Foot, Then Heart Sets Sail

Three weeks ago at this time in the afternoon, I was passed out cold on the floor. My descent into oblivion began about an hour earlier as I watched Casey and Henri struggle to make the miraculous, but harrowing, transition from womb to earth.

It was almost 4 weeks before Henri's due date, but he had been experiencing a decelerated heart rate with Casey's occasional contractions. Casey's doctor decided that the risks of continuing the pregnancy were more than the risks of early birth. Casey and I were nervous, but the extensive monitoring of Henri in the prior weeks gave us confidence that he was healthy. Casey stayed in the hospital overnight on Tuesday, September 22, and was scheduled to have labor induced in the morning.



Wednesday, September 23, started early for us, and everything seemed to be going as planned, labor was progressing and Henri was handling the strain. By early afternoon, however, labor had stalled and Henri was showing signs of stress. Casey and I knew the situation was becoming serious, and the nurse said she was bringing the doctor back. I whispered to Casey that we would know how serious this was by how quickly the doctor arrived. It seemed like she arrived immediately, and our concern grew even more when the doctor had the room cleared of the trays and stands that have the baby equipment. It seemed that Henri was probably not going to be born in this room.

Knowing my propensity for getting light-headed with trauma, I had eaten healthy and sufficiently all day. I even had a bottle of Mountain Dew close by to amp my blood sugar when needed. As my fear for Henri mounted, despite my planning, I began to get light-headed. When Henri's heartbeat could not be located for a second and then third time, my vision began to gray and I thought it best to sit in the chair next to Casey's bed and not stand. Unable to see anything, as the flurry of voices and activity grew, it took every ounce of concentration I had to stay conscious. I was concentrating on only the voice of the doctor, and listening to every word. When she said, "We're going!" and I knew Casey would be wheeled to the O.R., I stood up. The nurses told me my head bounced off the wall before I hit the floor. The noise caused more of a concern than needed, because the glance off the wall probably helped my head by slowing the fall.

I regained consciousness on the chair-bed, with a doctor and nurses huddled around me. I was pretty agitated and anxious to get to the O.R., but I knew I would be a liability if I moved so I stayed lying down, distraught and in disbelief that I would miss what was happening.

As they wheeled Casey down the hall, they said she needed to have her nose piercing out. No one was able to do it for her, so Casey pulled it out. No one was able to take it from her, so she threw it. They had also said she needed her wedding ring off, but when she got that off, they yelled, "Don't throw it! Just put it back on!" In the O.R., Casey's doctor knew Casey had received an epidural, but did not know there had not been enough time for it to work. As the C-Section started, Casey felt the slice. The anesthesiologist used a fast-acting, general anesthetic to put Casey out. At 2:42 p.m., Henri David VanDyke was born, and both of his parents missed it.

As I was regaining my senses, I was keeping tabs, through the medical staff, on what was happening with Casey and Henri. I knew moments before Henri would be wheeled by the door and managed to get up and make it out to see him. My first moments of seeing Henri...



The first reports on Henri were very positive. His weight was good (5 lbs 9 oz), he had cried after birth, things generally looked good. He was going to the Intensive Care Nursery, but the Neonatologist sounded very positive. I was told I couldn't see Casey for an hour, so I followed Henri into the ICN.

It didn't take long in the ICN to see that Henri was having trouble breathing and would need help. Henri's Respiratory Therapist gave calm, detailed information on exactly what was going on inside Henri and what they were doing about it. There was an intense helplessness in watching the skin suck under Henri's ribs as he breathed, so understanding what was happening brought a (desperately) needed sense of security.



Over the next hour, more help was added for Henri and more monitors. It was an interesting mix of feelings about the tubes and monitors. These efforts were saving Henri's life, so mixed with the helplessness, fear and sadness was a sense of gratefulness. And at times I could see right through the mechanics and see only the precious baby boy.



The next few days, we saw improvements that would exhilarate and declines that would devastate. I spent hours turning from Henri to the monitors, and back. I can tell you where every lead went, what the purpose was of every monitor, and what the numbers indicated. It's an exhausting way to exist, but the small sense of purpose or control probably stabilized me in some way.



After four days, on Sunday afternoon, Casey went home. That's more her story than mine or Henri's, so I feel inadequate to explain how difficult that was, other than to say it went against Casey's every biological and emotional instinct.

The good news was that from Sunday on, Henri steadily (though slowly) improved. He breathed with a tube instead of the ventilator, then room air. Then he ate on his own and the feeding tube was removed. Then the final hurdle of maintaining his own body temperature. On Thursday afternoon, October 1, after 8 days in the ICN, Henri came home.



This is the story as bare as I can tell it. Each of Henri's first 8 days could be a chapter. I could go on about the 2 boys at home and how amazingly well they handled it, and also the unique situations the stress brought for us and them. As usual, I can't imagine how I would have survived without my friends, especially Casey's mom and my sister. With Casey's mom taking care of the boys and the house, I was able to spend 4 nights at the hospital and most of those first 4 days. Late night proved many times to be a valuable time to be in the ICN; I first held Henri at Midnight Friday. My sister was there through that first day and I am extremely grateful. She was who Casey called for when I went down (a nurse came in asking "What's Laurie's last name?!" and in my poor condition I hollered "VanDyke!"). She was there right after I regained consciousness. She was there as I reeled from news and as I wept in my few moments away from the action. I felt comforted and grateful for her.

I am also keenly aware of the positive reality of Henri's situation. Living in the ICN for 8 days gave me accurate perspective on what other babies and their parents have endured, and some of them still are.

This is simply how Henri arrived. And my heart sails.

Love Can Rock

Love can be as quiet as a 2 a.m. nursing of a newborn. As calm and casual as a hand resting on someone's leg. Love is in the last whisper before sleep... or death...

But,

Sometimes,

Love rocks.

Sometimes, Love roars with the chest-rumbling thunder and blinding light of a 254-ton rocket ship.



Sometimes, Love does not take a back seat, leaves no room for modesty, and stands up to be heard. This is a rare phenomenon, for sure. 70,000 people gathered with a common purpose doesn't guarantee it. A space ship doesn't guarantee it. We need someone leading the way, calling us forward.

Love's most passionate and compelling advocates are not pink-skinned cherubs, they are the weathered and worn faces of the prophets. The robust energy of young love dims in the fire of a plea for Love and Grace by the battle-scarred soul. No one rocks Love like one who has fought for Love till their knuckles bled.



From the first blast of Breathe, U2 was that force, calling us into the street, daring us, then begging us, to drop gravity and join them, reminding us why Love needs us, painting Love in LED, convincing us how powerful we can be...

Right now, let's go, let's lock arms and march out to advance Love. We won't walk far and there is a little boy cowering in fear in his closet. Another block and there's a young mother working her second job today. Look across the street and there is a man laying on the bench who has lost all sense of his indescribable worth, he hasn't had a hug in years, he hasn't even had eye contact with another person for days.

We can do it, feel Love's power and energy, we can change the world! Together. If I don't know what to say, you're here. If you start to feel foolish, I'm here. We get to carry each other. Sure we might get hurt, no we can't reach them all before we fall, and fall we will, but someone's hungry, someone's hurt, someone's angry, someone's dying. And tell me

How long, how long must we sing this song?
How long, how long?
'Cos tonight
We can be as one, tonight.

It Was A Beautiful Day

Saturday, September 12, 2009, a day that will live with me forever. Words will come later, but here is a quick chronology of one fabulous day, as captured on my phone camera.

Erick and I left Timbers Court, Columbia, MO at 4 a.m. and boarded the train in St. Louis at 6:20.

We passed through miles of Illinois prairie before we reached the foothills of the suburbs.


Then finally the glass and stone mountains and canyons of Chicago.


From Union Station we took a short walk on downtown streets.


We stayed with my cousin Michael and his fiancé Ling on the southern edge of downtown. Here's the view north from their building.


After an afternoon of cold beer and college football, we took a short walk to Soldier Field (a walk made much longer by cousin Fred's "shortcut"). We were seated directly in front of the stage.


The opening act, Snow Patrol, gave a passionate and rocking performance. But at 8:45, with a puff of smoke and a flash of light, the 254 ton, 164-foot-tall space ship took off.


I didn't have the space or time to capture every iteration of the magnificent stage, but here's a quick snap of the LED screen that hung from the center. The 500,000-pixel, 360-degree screen was 23 feet tall when fully compressed, but it could also stretch to a 72-foot-tall cone, as seen here.


The stage was part of the show, and always an extension of the message. For "City of Blinding Lights" beams of light towered straight into the sky.


The band performed "Sunday Bloody Sunday" bathed in green light and showing images of the latest "Bloody Sunday" events from the Iran protests.


After 2 hours and 10 minutes of an emotional and fantastic show, Erick and I were filled but exhausted. It was a beautiful day.


EPILOGUE:
I was up before sunrise on Sunday for a run on the shore of Lake Michigan. I ran with Man's majestic skyline on my left and Nature's simple yet elegant skyline on my right. Then it was time to leave Chicago. Having passed a Dunkin Donuts on every block, we eventually caved and bought a dozen for the train ride home.


I sank into my train seat, my soul still glowing and my heart still humming.

There is no Limit

There's enough for everyone, I remind myself every once in awhile. Sometimes it's harder to believe. When Casey and I were talking about having a 3rd child, my biggest concern was my ability to give unconditional love and acceptance to another child. The lack of sleep, the physical limitations, the financial costs, etc. are all temporary and seem to get quickly outweighed by the benefits. But I was far more concerned with my ability to give love and acceptance. I've worked very hard for the boys I already have and I don't want them to suffer any lack, nor would I want to parent a new baby with anything less than I gave the first two.

Fortunately, I am learning from the abundance mentality of the boys. The boys (almost 7 and just turned 5) were pretty quickly accepting and their acceptance has grown into excitement. Early on, I even tried to communicate my scarcity concerns for them. Trying to explain that a poopy diaper might interfere with a game, and that we'd have to fit 4 people into the reading chair at night, etc. These things do not concern them. William has shown me where Henri would sit in the chair and Aaron wants to practice changing diapers so he can help. The boys bring up Henri in ordinary conversation, talking about what he might be doing right now or what he'll do when he comes out. A couple weeks ago William was telling a new babysitter about his other brother Henri and showing her things he had made for Henri, till the sitter wondered what was going on. So William had to say, "Well, he's still in mommy's tummy." But more importantly, they seem to have no concerns for what this addition might mean for their emotional needs. Perhaps a quick story from Sunday morning best explains it.

Taking a break from a morning of pajamas, cartoons and playing, the boys were eating a donut on the deck. Aaron said, "This wouldn't be near as much fun without William." After checking what he might mean, he talked about how much William added to everyday life. William, who had been sitting there listening, piped up, "Yeah, and when Henri gets here it will be even better."

As the other Henri said, "With an abundancy mentality we say: 'There is enough for everyone, more than enough: food, knowledge, love ... everything.' With this mind-set we give away whatever we have, to whomever we meet. When we see hungry people we give them food; when we encounter people in need of love, we offer them friendship and affection and hospitality and introduce them to our family and friends."

So Henri VanDyke, your family is still human and will be selfish sometimes, but we're excited, and hang on because I've got a feeling it's going to be quite a ride.

The Scent of it Lingers

I was up early for a run. My path turned East in time to see the rising sun paint orange ribbons across my horizon. The weather was cool, but humid. The air clung to my shirt in drops and dripped off the end of my nose with every fourth stride.

When the air is that humid, it seems to intensify smells, as if the scent is captured in the moisture, hanging mid-air, waiting to be inhaled. As my path ran through tall grass laying freshly cut, I breathed deeply a smell from my past.

French novelist Marcel Proust said "When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered - the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory."

The smell of cut hay opens, for me, an immense edifice of memory of my adolescence. It is the smell of hayfields on a hot summer day from my teenage years, hayfields on my grandpa's farm. The feelings are strong, and conflicting. It is the memory of being exactly where I wanted to be and doing what I wanted to be doing, yet also the worry of doing it right, appearing competent and capable.

I remember this one afternoon, my last day before we moved rather far from the farm, I raked hay using an old John Deere. As the day neared its end, my grandpa waited at the edge of the field in his truck. When I finally climbed into the cab, he said, "You could have combined those last windrows instead of making so many passes. But I figure you wanted to make it last." Yes, I did. And for good reason, because that memory is now all that's left.

As We Divide Against Each Other

I’m all for dissent and challenging authority. So when I heard the buzz about these raucous crowds at town hall meetings on health care reform, I thought “good for them” even if I don’t agree with the dissent. I finally got a chance to see one of these town hall meetings. Sen. Specter held an open meeting in Lebanon, Pennsylvania, and I watched the entire meeting on CSPAN.

I’m not a political fan of Sen. Specter, and from a distance his party-switch sure seemed opportunistic. I also understand (as I’m sure he does) that he chose this job and that means dealing with people, whether they like you or not. To make matters worse, the senator started the meeting off with some unhelpful words that displayed an insolent attitude, something like “I don’t get any extra pay for being here and I don’t have any requirement to be here.” Not a good way to endear yourself to your constituents. None of that, however, excuses being rude or mean to the man, and many at the meeting certainly were. But they were angry and we often do regretful things when we’re angry.

It’s that anger, though, that astonishes me. At times the expressed dissent was downright hateful. Unfortunately for everyone, most of the concerns expressed were based on misinformation or distortions and the questioners’ general sense of anger and distrust seemed to completely cloud their ability to reason (again, certainly a common human issue when we’re angry). A few good questions were raised, but the overall theme was definitely one of anger and resentment.

Before the question period could begin, a man rose and began shouting in anger. He was literally shaking he was so emotionally upset. Shouting just a few feet from Specter’s face, he accused Specter of trampling the constitution and that “One day God will stand before you and judge you and the rest of your damn cronies up on the Hill and then you will get your just desserts." I have to believe the man was sincere and I take him at his word, which means this man believes that God has taken a position on interpreting the US Constitution and to violate the Constitution is a sin! Beyond that this man’s anger is palpable and his desire for someone to “pay” for how he feels is very real.

The crowd cheered loudly for another man who believed part of the health care solution is to “round up the illegals and get them out of here.” It was heart-breaking to hear my fellow citizens cheering at the “rounding up” of men, women and children. An older gentleman expressed concern, in a respectful manner at least, that the Koran orders Muslims to kill non-Muslims. President Obama was accused several times of the auto bailout even though that was actually proposed by and signed into law by President Bush.

The loudest reaction from the crowd was for a woman who declared that the anger was about “the systematic dismantling of this country, we don’t want to turn into Russia!” It was not clear if she thought Obama was accomplishing the dismantling in the last 6 months or if she was unloading years of anger (though I believe the Republicans controlled all 3 branches of government for 6 or 7 of the last 10 years). This was a recurring theme and also one that astonishes me - whether or not someone or some idea is “American.” With no awareness of the irony, the crowd bristled at having been called un-American by some but then turned around and shouted angrily when Specter said “President Obama knows he’s an American.” The mere fact that Specter even had to say that is jaw-dropping; the crowd’s reaction is beyond belief.

In similar style, one dissenter was concerned that the proposed health care was “not American” and was “socialist” and then admitted he was currently unemployed and receiving unemployment benefits! I am glad for him and his family that the socialist program of unemployment is able to help him.

You might think I’m cherry-picking but I assure you I am not. The video record is available. The best-expressed concerns were about whether we can afford the proposed health care plans and questioning the financial sense of the cap-and-trade bill. The best question of the night was “why would the government buy an auto maker who makes cars no one wants?” But these few financial concerns were quite small compared to the charges of un-American, socialist, turning into China, etc.

Serious topics often come down to such buzzwords, sadly. Two buzz words even more loaded than those already mentioned are euthanasia and abortion. A woman said that according to the current House of Representatives’ health care bill, “Section 1233 of the proposed health care plan… What it says is, as a 74-year-old man, if you develop cancer, we're pretty much going to write you off because you're no longer a working citizen who will be paying taxes.” I read Section 1233 that she’s talking about and for her to say that flat-out amazes me. I believe someone told her what that section means, because it’s not at all as she stated. Section 1233 is a favorable provision for patients; it offers to pay for something that right now is needed but not a covered expense. That section offers to pay for (but does NOT require) a doctor to talk with a patient about a living will, advance care planning, durable power-of-attorney, the roles and duties of a health care proxy, and what all this stuff means. These things are incredibly important and far too many people are without them. I would abhor euthanasia and this Section 1233 does nothing to advance euthanasia. In fact, it looks to me like this would get more people making their OWN decisions. Absolutely incredible that something like this would be so blatantly distorted.

I am also highly in favor of reducing abortions and am sensitive to the concern about abortion funding. This issue is also being distorted, but it only came up once at Specter’s town hall. My caution regarding shouts of “I don’t want my money paying for someone’s abortion” is that we already do. If you pay taxes, our taxes help pay for abortions. If you pay insurance premiums to a private insurer, it is most likely that your premiums help pay for abortions. Depending on the medicines you buy, the doctors you see, the hospitals you pay - your money helps pay for abortions. That’s a stiff wall to climb, and it may be one you’re willing to pursue, but it bothers me when people get twisted around by this sensitive topic during a discussion of health care reform. If your goal is to stop any of your money from helping to pay for abortions, you have to head straight to amending the Constitution, not stop a health care reform that maintains the status quo.

I’ve gotten into more specifics about the dissent than I intended, but once I got started I thought it best to provide examples of the anger and resentment I saw. It’s difficult for me because, as I said, I respect dissent and challenging authority. And I believe these were sincere people, I know them, they are some of my friends and family. They are afraid and have been hurt and they are angry. When I’m feeling those things I get even more defensive and self-focused than I usually am, and anything that looks like it might take something from me (or did take something from me) is an easy target for my anger. My heart goes out to the people I saw on CSPAN and I wish for all of us a health care discussion that has as its central values that EVERY human being is Yahweh’s child and that protecting the health of each human being is a profoundly important personal and communal responsibility.

Need

What's stalling progress in health care, in my opinion, is any sense of "need." I read a recent Rasmussen poll that said 68% of voters considered their health insurance coverage "good" or "excellent." It's difficult to achieve change for only 32% of voters (I think we can safely ignore non-voters when discussing achieving political change). And it's VERY difficult to achieve change for a minority when it may cost the majority something.

I want health care reform because health care is rationed here in U.S. and I believe we can be more equitable in our rationing. Personally, I'm happy with my health insurance coverage. I consider it expensive and the costs have risen every year the past 10 years, but I am able to adjust finances and I have been fortunate enough to avoid all major illnesses. But I also understand that our health care is rationed here in the U.S., I just happen to be at the head of the ration line. Because I can afford my premium, deductible, co-pay, and co-insured payment, I can afford most health care I will need. When we needed help for Casey's migraines beyond what was covered by our health insurance, we were able to pay the bill from our own pocket and she was able to gain some relief. I can afford preventative medicine with my son's asthma. Others may have emergency care available for free when an asthma attack hits, but because I'm at the head of the ration line I can obtain preventative care. The health care system rations care and gives it to me and my family because I can afford it.

I want health care reform because I am already subsidizing the care the system gives to people with no health insurance coverage at all. The hospital charges me more to make up for the care it gives to people who receive care even when they can't afford it. The ambulance service costs me more because it's cheaper for some people to call 911 and get emergency care (for non-emergencies) than it is to go visit a doctor. Doctors and hospitals have to charge me more because people who could not afford care neglected to see a doctor for problems that have now gotten much more serious, but their ability to pay hasn't changed. Since I'm already paying an extra cost for this broken style of care, I'd rather see these same people get preventative care.

I want health care reform because getting sick shouldn't cause bankruptcy. A recent Harvard study showed that 62% of all personal bankruptcies in the U.S. in 2007 were caused by medical debts. The study found: "Most medical debtors were well educated, owned homes, and had middle-class occupations. Three quarters had health insurance." It makes me wonder if very many of the 68% who think their coverage is good or excellent have yet weathered a serious illness. How many times have we seen collection cans on the gas station counter to help pay for the out-of-pocket costs of some hard-working family hit by illness or tragedy? Just last week a guy in this area saved a toddler from certain death and suffered severe injuries in his efforts. Of course, a fund raiser was immediately scheduled to help him pay for his medical care not covered by health insurance.

I do not believe that tweeks will resolve my concerns. I believe we need serious change.

Yes, I'm concerned about what the financial costs of health care reform may be. But when I can progress beyond my desire to protect what's mine, I realize something MUST be done. The status quo is not an option. If I approach the current legislative proposals with an understanding of need and desire for serious change, I am much better able to ignore the lies and distortions about what the proposed reform is (and is not).

Hear Their Heartbeat

On August 6, 1945, 64 years ago today, the United States dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan. With heat up to 7,000 degrees and blast winds over 600 mph, the bomb obliterated a square mile of the city, killing between 100,000 and 140,000 people. Most of those killed were civilians as Hiroshima had a civilian population of 300,000 and an army base containing about 43,000 soldiers.

Three days later, on August 9, 1945, the United States dropped another atomic bomb on Nagasaki, Japan, a city of about 200,000 people. The blast that day killed between 40,000 and 70,000 people.

Thousands and thousands of women, children and other innocent people were incinerated, deformed or given slow painful deaths. This is a tragically sad day in history.

I take time today to reflect with humility and horror at the unimaginable pain and destruction. I reflect on the horror without judgment of the men who rained it down, themselves trapped in the human pattern of violence and of valuing our own life greater than someone else. The bombs' effect on the end of the war is debated, but that seems to me a distraction from the reality of charred and mutilated women, boys, girls and men. Maybe it ended the war more quickly, maybe it didn't. But it's hard to see any justification for annihilating a city's civilian population, people no different than those in Kansas in 1945, just trying to get through the war and praying their family did too.

Though saddened by America's choices, I am also encouraged by America's renewed interest in eliminating nuclear weapons. We can, and should, lead the way. By remembering the horror and anguish, maybe we can find the courage to take bold steps toward eliminating weapons designed to kill innocent people.

We'll Build a Bridge

I recently finished a memoir by an incredible woman named Shirin Ebadi. Her book, Iran Awakening: A Memoir of Revolution and Hope, tells her story of growing up under the rule of the Shah, the quick ascent of her legal career, her zeal for the revolution of 1979 and her subsequent struggle under the Islamic Republic. Shirin Ebadi's story is the parallel story of the fate of democratic and intellectual freedom in the last 35 years in Iran. Shirin fought to overthrow the tyranny and brutality of the shah, only to see it replaced with an equally brutal and culturally more-oppressive regime. Now, Shirin and others continue their quest to bring basic human rights and basic freedom to their brothers and sisters.

My timing in reading this book is no coincidence, I wanted to read it because of the recent events in Iran. I wish I had read the book prior to the Iran election, because the events after the election wouldn't have surprised me.

Some of the things from her book supported what I had already learned about Iran, women and democracy. For example, the anti-shah movement was not at all a pro-ayatollah movement. The ayatollah was but one of several factions seeking to overthrow the tyranny of the shah. After the shah fled Iran, it took the ayatollah a year or more to consolidate power and begin the Islamic Republic that we are familiar with today. Also, Iran's cultural view of women is very different than Arab cultures and Iran has long respected some authority for women. One of the difficulties for the Islamic Republic has been their inability to control the women in the country. The scenes of the crowds after the recent election made clear that Iranian women are engaged and taking some leadership.

There were also several things I learned from the book. Probably the most distressing thing to learn was how the Iran-Iraq war solidified the rule of the Islamic Republic. What made that particularly difficult was the role of the United States in furthering that war by supporting Saddam Hussein, even after we knew that Saddam was using chemical weapons against the Iranians. As I mentioned earlier, being anti-shah did not mean you were pro-ayatollah. When the Iran-Iraq war started, there were many factions still working toward resisting the kind of rule desired by the burgeoning Islamic Republic. The weak rule of the government was one of the reasons Saddam knew it was a good opportunity to strike. The counter-productive actions of the United States in that war are too tragic to be mere irony. Though I believe we sincerely wanted peace and democracy in Iran, we managed to help squelch all dissent and cement the control of the hard-line leadership. When I look at the present position of Iran, I see a perfectly human response to 50 years of duplicity and complicity and the occasional direct intereference. In fact, I am in some ways surprised to read about (and see evidence of) a decidedly pro-Western sentiment among the younger generation of Iranians. This was not the focus of her book at all, but certainly a theme that stood out to me as an American.

Ultimately, "Iran Awakening" is a book of hope. The revolution took a necessary pause during the Iran-Iraq war, took several more years to recover its voice, and has been steadily on the rise since 1999. Shirin Ebadi, at great personal cost, has taken that fight one case at a time. As a lawyer, Shirin has picked the ripest opportunities she can find to fight within the system for human rights, and democratic, cultural and intellectual freedoms. Her work has earned her the Nobel Peace Prize. Shirin, and many like her, continue to push for reform within the Iranian systems. They report a growing resentment and strengthening resolve, and the world has recently seen evidence of what is apparently right below the surface.

Shirin's story is far more textured than I've relayed here, and her story reveals as much about the rich Persian culture as it does the gritty reality of today's prison cells. So while I learned a lot about the social and political climate of an important and strategic country, more importantly, I took a trip across a bridge and caught a glimpse of families that love like I love, care for their children like I do, and die like I will.

"As long as there is distance between us and we cannot look in each other's eyes, all sorts of false ideas and images arise. We give them names, make jokes about them, cover them with our prejudices, and avoid direct contact. We think of them as enemies. We forget that they love as we love, care for their children as we care for ours, become sick and die as we do. We forget that they are our brothers and sisters..." Henri Nouwen

I Don't Want to Talk About Wars Between Nations (Not Right Now)

I've been on vacation; a good, long vacation. My vacation was the kind where I started out contemplating the moral poverty of the world and 10 days later was mostly concerned with the angle of the sun on my lounge chair and the temperature of the water in the pool.

I guess even on vacation I was always aware of the extravagant luxury of my life. I knew I was literally swimming in water while my sister Lily gathers water 10 times a day in her jerrycan. But I was also able to live in the moments of abundance: abundance of grace and love from Casey and the boys, of leisure time, of safety, of freedom, of food, of intellect... Okay, just threw that last one in for fun, but my point is I have a lot of a lot and vacation was wonderful.

My reading for the trip was Henry David Thoreau's "Walden" and "On the Duty of Civil Disobedience." Works I was well aware of by a guy I vaguely admired, and literature I suddenly felt the need to read (for reasons that will become clear in later months).

Turns out, HDT is pretty awesome. It's not light reading, and as my brain steadily vegetated over the 10-day vacation his 1850's prose grew denser by the day. But HDT was dedicated to a few ideals that I aspire to, and he practiced and wrote about them with passion: a desire to live simply and resist consumerism and materialism, the preservation of and human interdependence with nature, transcendentalism and our duty to act on our conscience. Good stuff. A simple book review would never be adequate, but his works will be infused in my thinking and writing for several up-coming topics.

Now vacation has ended and my regular life resumes. But that's certainly no complaint.

One Life With Each Other: Sisters, Brothers

Twice today I had to close the door of my office, just for a few minutes, to allow the tears. The frightened bursts of communication coming from the people of Iran gave me the visual of a light dimming. The light of hope and peace that seemed so bright last Monday was being dimmed by the relentless pounding of black batons, and worse.

During one of these emotional interludes I caught myself, for a moment, thinking "Wow, almost everyone around would think I'm overreacting. Am I overreacting?" I soon recalled something I read from William Wilberforce: "If to be feelingly alive to the sufferings of my fellow-creatures is to be a fanatic, I am one of the most incurable fanatics ever permitted to be at large.” By the time I was collecting myself, it seemed crazy NOT to be reacting to the suffering. Real people are being killed, beaten and terrorized.

It was Tuesday around ten in the evening, when I first heard of my son’s arrest. I got shocked and I found myself in total despair. Amin is only seventeen years old and is currently in eleventh grade and attending the program in his school. I immediately started to look for him, experiencing very hard and painful moments. Moments that neither cinema nor any other kind of art will ever be able to express. What I went through and witnessed that night is not easy to describe…I had no idea where they had taken my son to, therefore I stared looking in every ambulance, every police station and every hospital in town. I came face to face with other parents looking for their children as well. Mothers screaming and calling the names of their sons and daughters. Fathers weeping silently. Terrified kids in police stations awaiting their faith…it was a total nightmare.

As I mentioned a few days ago, the close proximity (via technology) of this suffering makes it unique and adds the personal dimension I'm just not used to in world politics. I don't get to read the blog of a mourning North Korean mother whose son was falsely accused and publicly executed. I don't get frantic Twitter updates from a woman in the Congo as she tries to escape the militia's rape squads. I didn't have fresh cell phone video of the last moments of the 50-60 Iraqis killed by a bomb in Baghdad today. It's hard to imagine my reaction if I did have that access. I'm almost thankful I don't, but it's no less real.

Am I overreacting? I think I've barely even begun to react...