Sunday, April 8, 2018


THE PURPOSE DRIVEN LIFE

A Perspective

Chapter 1: It All Starts with God, continued


“You were made by God and for God – and until you understand that life will never make sense. It is only in God that we discover our origin, or identity, or meaning, or purpose, our significance, and our destiny. Every other path leads to a dead end.”
In the mid-90s I started reading my Bible again. Though I had never lost my faith during my selfish self-centered phase I didn’t go to church nor did I read the Bible, big mistake. When I started reading the Bible I started with my favorite book, Romans. And I stumbled across Romans 8:28 “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good to those who are called according to his purpose.” The first thing that hit me was those two little words “all things”. That means that every experience of my life whether it’s good or bad can be used by God. The second thing that hit me was the phrase, “to those who are called according to his purpose” God has a plan for each of us but until we understand that he has a plan all of the things that happen to us are just things that happen to us. But, when we realize that God’s plan can take every single situation and use it for his good purpose then and only then does our life have true meaning.

Nothing brought that home more to me than my son Brian and my daughter-in-law Kelly. In 2008 my granddaughter Cailinn was born. She suffered chromosomal anomalies that would make her severely retarded. Both Kelly and Brian could’ve felt sorry for themselves and asked that proverbial question, “why us?” But they didn’t they chose to be parents to a special needs child. And God has used both Kelly and Brian to help other parents who have special needs children. Kelly now is a peer to new special-needs parents, she helps doctors at the hospital understand what parents are going through. And Brian relates to the men who have special needs kids. Do they hurt? Yes, but they do not let their pain stop them from doing good to others. God has a purpose for their lives and for Cailinn. Cailinn, has brought all of us so much joy. She’s growing a little more every day in ways that we never thought possible. God has a purpose for her also. What is God’s purpose for you? You have one you know.

               



THE PURPOSE DRIVEN LIFE
A PERSPECTIVE


 Chapter 1: IT ALL STARTS WITH GOD



Over the several months I’m going to be using The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren as my source. I have found the principles in this book very helpful in maintaining a positive focus. Though I haven’t read it since my men’s group, First Light, went through it in 2008 as part of our jail ministry I have try very hard to use these principles in my everyday life.

The first part of this book is called, “What on Earth Am I Here For” this question has plagued me since coming back from Vietnam. Frankly, I had trouble understanding why I survived. While others who were very close to me in proximity were wounded or killed. One of our favorite shows in the 70's was, “Barney Miller”. In one episode Captain Miller asked one of his detectives why the sperm whale the largest mammal in the world eats nothing but plankton. The detective replied that he didn’t know why. Miller said "because that’s the way it is". He went on to explain that some things just are. Things just happened. And that’s the way it is. That answer worked for me for many years. But in the back of my mind I knew I needed more.

In early 2003 I let a small group through the Purpose Driven Life book. Going through this book made me realize that the statement, “that’s the way it is” is wrong. God has a purpose for each one of us. He can use everything in our lives both good and horrible to make us into better people. If we allow it. It is true we live in a sin sick world. We are a fallen creation. And each one of us has done things in our lives of which we are not proud. Sometimes terrible things happen to good people while horrible people seem to catch every break. It’s hard to understand. Yet, God is in control and has a plan that is being worked out in each one of our lives. But, we having freewill have a choice to make. Do we allow God to use our circumstances both good and bad to grow us or do we allow them to destroy us?

The first sentence in the first chapter says it all, “It’s not about you.”  That one little four word sentence has changed a lot of lives over the years. As one of the inmates said at our county jail men’s group, “What do you mean it’s not about me? Making it all about me is how I lived my life.” And then he paused for a bit and he said, “Making about me as landed me in jail and prison, it cost me my family, my three children, every job I ever had and is sending me away now for another three years in the state penitentiary.” So, the question is what has making it all about you gotten you?

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

OTHERS NOT SELF


Looking back over my life from the vantage point of my age, (72) I find that the happiest times, the best times were those times when I was involved with helping others. In fact, when I was suffering PTSD and when I still suffer it I find focusing on the needs of others relieves many of my symptoms. Even when the symptoms don’t go away I find I feel much better when I’m concentrating on the needs of other people.

That’s why I put on the face of my challenge coin my motto, “others not self”. There is a tendency in each of us especially when we feel bad to focus inward, to dwell on our own problems. It’s natural. Our minds when focus inward, in my opinion magnify our problems whether physical or psychological. However, when our mind is focused on something greater than ourselves those problems diminish tremendously. Why? I firmly believe that it is a gift of God. I believe that it is the way God designed us. Or maybe it’s a natural law that those who put others first find relief. Or maybe it’s when we concentrate on the needs of others our problems diminish because we recognize the pain in others that may be worse than our own pain. Or maybe we just too busy to think of our own issues our own pain. Whatever is whatever you choose to believe I know beyond any question that when we concentrate on others and ourselves we diminish our own psychological and physical pain.

Sadly is I was going through PTSD in my 20s 30s 40s and yes even in the my 50s I never had the wisdom to realize that the times that I felt better, the times that I felt better in regards to the PTSD were those times when I was concentrating on my dad’s cancer, my mother’s stroke, my mother-in-law’s rheumatoid arthritis, talking at grade schools, high schools and colleges about the Medal of Honor, being bullied. All of these things took the focus off of me and put it on something bigger than myself and by doing that my depression, my anger all of it diminished. My wife Susie, she who must be obeyed, often tells me I dwell too much in the past and I suppose I do. But, I continuously find myself being angry that I didn’t know any of this until I was in my late 50s. Which is why I suppose I want to share this with you the reader. I’m hoping that you can learn from my experience. You don’t have to go through the things that I went through, not that I went through that much I am blessed with two functioning arms, two functioning legs, a functioning mind, and pretty good health. Most of my aches and pains are from age and thinking that I was going to be 19 forever. Had I known then what I know now my PTSD would not have gone on as it did. I would’ve had tools to fight effectively.


I know this God has a plan for you if and only if you will allow it. You have a choice you can choose to fight the enemy PTSD. You can choose others not self or you can go down a very negative path that leads only to destruction. In the end as with me the choice is yours.

Fighting the Dragon

I think I should explain why I refuse to call post-traumatic stress disorder, post-traumatic stress. I know that this will make some uncomfortable and I understand that. This is my personal choice. and these are my reasons. If you need to call it post traumatic stress by all means do so.

I believe that PTSD is our mortal enemy and we must face it as such. I don’t think that we can beat the enemy by giving it a nice name. I know some find the word “disorder” to be repugnant. I don’t. Frankly, post –traumatic stress is a disorder. Whether we like it or not. To quote a phrase you can dress a pig up in a $1500 suit but it is still a pig. Calling PTSD by a politically correct name does not take away from the fact that it destroys our lives. I think we have to call it what it is.

I believe we must use every means necessary to defeat it every time it raises its ugly head. Just like we would any enemy on any battlefield. Our battlefield is a battlefield of the mind, of the emotion but it is still a battlefield. I don’t want PTSD to sound nice. I’ve even gone so far as to personalize it. For me it is the Dragon PTSD or just the Dragon. I call it the Dragon because it wants to devour me and everything I have and everything I love. And like the dragons of folklore the PTSD Dragon is greedy. It wants every single part of us, every single thing we have that makes us a good, productive, loving person.

If it is to be defeated, we must use every tool we have available. Those inside ourselves and those outside ourselves, i.e. therapy, support groups, and yes if we have to medication. I believe firmly that God, if we allow Him, will provide us with everything we need to beat this condition. We can subdue it and we can beat it every time it rears its ugly head. God’s promise to us is that he will never let us be tested more than we are able to endure. It is by his mercy and by his grace that he will meet all of our needs. 

The one thing I liked best about being a lower ranking soldier is most of the time I never knew what the commanding officer had planned much less the general. Being just an enlisted man, I saluted smartly said yes sir three bags full and obeyed the orders. Sometimes, I didn’t understand why we had to train a certain way especially when it was really tough. But then in combat I understood.
We don’t have to know why God allows things to happen to us through his permissive will. We just have to have faith that he has a good plan for us. If we allow that plan to be worked out. I know one thing for sure, “all things work together for good to those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.”


Saturday, December 30, 2017

“IS IT FAIR TO ALL CONCERNED?”


How many times have we heard the words, “it’s not fair”? I remember saying those very words one time and being told, “life isn’t fair”. Life isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean that we cannot treat people fairly including ourselves. What I love about, “Is it fair to all concerned?”, is that it requires that everyone in a relationship be treated fairly including ourselves. Fairness means that we treat everyone with justice, equality, impartiality, in other words everyone is treated equally and given a fair shake. Including ourselves.

In my recovering from PTSD I sometimes find myself going the, “extra mile.” I do it because I sometimes think I need to make amends for my past actions. But, I find it leaves me feeling more like a martyr than anything. And not a martyr in the good sense i.e. sacrificing myself in a noble work. No, I feel like the stereotypical self-serving martyr. You know the kind, that person who is always lauding their sacrifice. Who is always jumping on the proverbial hand grenade. That type of martyrdom, if I don’t catch it in time, often leads me to more depression and anger and frustration the last thing the world I want or need.

When I came upon the Rotary Four-way test it hit me, “Is it fair to all concerned?” means even me. I have to be fair to myself in the way I think and in the way I act towards myself. As much I am fair to everyone else I must also be fair to me. Part of my problem was I was riddled by guilt because of my actions while suffering PTSD and because of remembering things that I did and didn’t do in Vietnam, the ever-present survivor’s guilt.

Being fair to all concerned,” made me realize I needed to start being fair to myself. Somehow it reminded me of the serenity prayer often cited by those who suffer addiction. It’s a prayer that I learned to say many times as I started my recovering from PTSD:

God, grant me the Serenity
To accept the things I cannot change...
Courage to change the things I can,
And 
Wisdom to know the difference.


The courage to accept the things I cannot change” part of my problem is that I keep dwelling on the past. I think we’ve all had those questions, haven’t we? “Could I have done more?” “Did I do the right thing?” “Why am I alive and_______ isn’t?” On and on the questions go, but as my therapist said, “I cannot change the past I can only change the future.” Being fair to myself forced me to “accept the things that I cannot change”. Leaving those things in the past, where they should be left. At least as far as how they affect my emotions and my negative feelings. There are important lessons to learn from past experiences and behavior. But the past should not be an excuse for our current actions. “Courage to change the things we can,” that’s our future we can change our future. I did, I changed paths. I was headed in the wrong direction and by the grace of God I was able to change that direction from a very negative one to a very positive one. It was and is a lot of hard work for me it started with the truth and it continues with being fair to all concerned, in my thoughts, relationships and actions. 

Tuesday, December 26, 2017

RECOVERY STARTS WITH THE TRUTH



Jesus said, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”[1] For much of my life I was not truthful. This is not to say that I was a liar as such. Sometimes stretching the truth, avoiding the truth or simply not telling the truth to avoid a situation is just what we do. Let’s face it, we all lie occasionally.

My greatest lies, and my most hurtful lies were to myself. As I was suffering the effects of PTSD I found it very easy to make excuses for my behavior. I told myself I suffered from PTSD and therefore whenever I acted out it wasn’t me it was the PTSD. The symptoms of PTSD pushed me inward, I became self-centered. Because of my self-centeredness I became very depressed. I often thought that the world, my family, and everyone would be better off if I was no longer here. From the late 70s through the 80s and into the early 90s I suffered fits of depression, rage and I sometimes hated my life.

Because of the Medal of Honor, I was protected. As long as I worked for the VA and later the Illinois Attorney General’s office I had made. After all who would fire a Medal of Honor recipient? Yet, because of the Medal and the fact that many people were looking up to me I could not, would not share what was going inside with anyone, big mistake. I put on the “face.” Outside I was confident, controlled and I tried to set a good example. I often failed but I always tried. Inside I was a mess. I drank way too much though it never stopped me from going to work or performing my duties as a recipient.

Then in the early 90s things got a little out of hand and even I knew I needed some help. I went to a local vet center and started seeing someone once a week. It was the hardest work I ever did. I refused medication. I decided if I couldn’t get fixed without medication I just wouldn’t get fixed. Thankfully, my therapist was amazing though she wasn’t a veteran she was very insightful and helped me negotiate the path through my problems.

But the best thing she taught me was to tell myself the truth and to accept responsibility for my actions. I had to accept responsibility for everything. I was responsible for my drinking, my attitude and for being extremely selfish and self-centered. Somewhere along the way I picked up the Rotary Fourway Test as my moral compass: Is it the truth? Is it fair to all concerned? Will it build good will and better friendships? Will it be beneficial to all concerned? Being truthful with myself was the first step in the long road home.




[1] John 8:32 English Standard Version.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Thoughts on the Flag and the Pledge

THOUGHTS ON OUR FLAG AND THE PLEDGE

            When we say the Pledge of Allegiance do we really understand what we are saying?

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
      When we consider what the pledge says phrase by phrase its true meaning becomes very clear. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America” the flag is a symbol of our country. We all have symbols that we hold dear it may be dog-tags worn by a veteran, by a surviving spouse or child. It may be a football jersey hung in a closet as reminder of glory days in high school or college. It may be that special card given by mom or dad. Whatever it is be we all have symbols that mean something to us, that are important to us.
       There are some people today who show disrespect for our flag, who refuse to stand when the National Anthem is played. Or who will burn our flag in protest. There are those who don’t want to say the Pledge of Allegiance to our flag.  Perhaps some feel disenfranchised because of the way their forebears were treated or because their political ideology.
           
            Before I go any farther consider.  Are any of us perfect? Do any of us harbor hate of any kind? For any group? If you are on the left, do you hate the right? If you’re a Democrat you hate Republicans? If you are conservative do you hate liberals? If you’re a Republican do you hate Democrats? Have any of us ever made a mistake? Have any of us ever done something wrong and knew it was wrong when we did it? I know I have.

            Now consider. If we all make mistakes. If we have all have harbored hatred at some time in our life. If we have all done something wrong even when we knew it was wrong. How then can any of us expect our country to be any different than we are? If we the people of the United States of America are imperfect how in the world can we expect anyone in our government to be perfect? And yet we do. We take umbrage with all of the police when less than 1% act inappropriately and yet we ourselves are imperfect. If we judged groups of people by that standard we would be the worst kind of bigot. And yet there are many who judge all by the act of a very few.
           
            When our founding fathers wrote the Declaration of Independence they wrote in part:

 “We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Our founding fathers were imperfect men just like you and I are imperfect, but they were looking for something better. Many of them were slave owners and yet they could write those words while they held people in bondage. Slavery was commonplace not just in America but around the world. Sadly, it still is commonplace in many parts of the world and yes in Africa. Even freed slaves in the United States owned slaves, that is a matter of record that we just don’t like to talk about. And yet it happened. Why? Because we are imperfect people and because we are imperfect people we sometimes do horrible, terrible things to one another.

            Yet, America has always had citizens with the will to do good. There were abolitionist movements long before the Civil War. Many, especially in the north, knew that slavery was a horrible abomination and they did what they could to end it. From the underground railroad to the Congress who enacted laws limiting first the importation of slaves and then the states in which slaves could be held, moral, decent people took a stand. Were their mistakes? Yes. But imperfect people act imperfectly.

            The Civil War may not have initially started to the abolish of slavery, but it was the end result. But, even with the end of the Civil War and the end of slavery people of color were not allowed equal rights. Racism was institutionalized and was rampant. It was wrong and many white people as well as African-Americans joined in the civil rights movement to end Jim Crowism.  Institutionalized racism ended with the passage of the Civil Rights Act in the early 60s and other pieces of legislation that followed on that great act. But, even though institutionalized racism was ended by acts of Congress we still have racism and bigotry in America even today. That bigotry and racism is in the hardest place to change, our hearts.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands”

            We are not a democracy. We are constitutional, representative republic. If we were democracy, then the majority would rule. In a democracy where the majority rules the rights of the minority can be severely limited or even denied. But we are a constitutional republic. The Constitution protects our rights. Our Bill of Rights guarantees freedom of religion, speech, freedom of the press, assembly and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. We are also guaranteed the right to keep and bear arms. The first 10 amendments to our Constitution are our Bill of Rights. They cannot be taken away however unpopular they may seem at any given time these rights are guaranteed by our Constitution and as long as that Constitution stands we the people are protected. Voltaire once said, “I may not agree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say.” In this country we may say whatever we like no matter how vile and disgusting others may think our speech may be, our freedom of speech is protected. The unpopularity of our speech doesn’t end our freedom of speech.

            The Preamble to our Constitution begins with:

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union,”

I believe our founding fathers realized that no government could never be perfect. In fact, there was much discussion about that as our Constitution was being drafted. But they wanted a more perfect union a more perfect government and so our founding fathers developed and wrote the Constitution.  They wrote it realizing that we were a flawed nation. Yet, their wisdom gave us this wonderful document that protects our rights. That guarantees that no matter how unpopular a matter of speech, religion, assembly, or anything else may be our rights to do those very things that the majority may not like are still guarantee in writing by our Constitution.

The Pledge of Allegiance ends with:

“One nation under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all”

Many people don’t understand and don’t like, “one nation under God” what they don’t understand is that what man can give man can take away but what a higher power gives only that higher power can take away. In the Declaration of Independence and in the Pledge of Allegiance we place our rights as something received from a higher power. Therefore, those rights cannot legally be taken from us by any government.

            “Indivisible” we are one nation not many small nations but one nation with one Constitution that supersedes every state Constitution and every state law. States cannot pass laws that are in conflict with our constitution.

            “With liberty and justice for all”

            The Pledge of Allegiance ends with these very strong words, “with liberty and justice for all.” Clearly a case can be made that we are not there yet but since our becoming a nation we have strived for that ideal. We have struggled to reach that golden shore where there truly there is liberty and justice for everyone.

            When our flag is disrespected what it stands for is also disrespected. When someone refuses to say the Pledge of Allegiance they say basically that they do not agree with what this country stands for, with what this country is trying to be. Nor do they believe in for the ideals of liberty and justice for all.


            But there’s more. Our flag drapes the coffin of all those who die serving this country, our country. That flag is taken off the coffin before it is lowered into the ground. It is folded. Then presented to the family. When you disrespect the flag you disrespect every spouse, child, parent and friend who lost a loved one serving these United States of America. When you disrespect the flag, you disrespect all those who have given the last full measure. When you disrespect the flag, you disrespect those who lost arms and legs and eyesight and even their sanity serving this land of ours.  Before you take a knee or burn or in other ways disrespect think of what you are disrespecting. I may not agree with what you do regarding our flag and our National Anthem, but I will defend to the death your right to do it because our constitution guarantees you that right. I don’t however have to otherwise support your actions with my person or money.  Thank You.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

High School Part IX - Senior Year and the Kennedy Assassination


I had just sat down for my 4th period health class, just after lunch, when an announcement came over the intercom that president Kennedy was shot while on a visit to Dallas Texas. Over the next several minutes announcements came in over the intercom that he was doing well and that he was in surgery. The bell rang at the end of Health class and we moved to our next class, for me English. The halls were silent gone was the usual chatter of teenagers. All talk was in hushed whispers some were crying most were in shock. Shortly after I got to English class we learned that the President was dead.  The date November 23, 1964 the day John F Kennedy was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald a day I’ll never forget and a day that changed my life forever.

The change didn't take place immediately but over the course of the next several years. But that day I started looking at the world with a set of different eyes.  Over the next several days we watched as the nation mourned. I saw the president shot over and over again each time with a commentator explaining what I was seeing. I saw Jack Ruby on live television kill Oswald. Then we were shown both the assignation and Oswald’s killing again and again in slow motion as the news men explained what we saw as if we were too stupid to see and understand for ourselves what had happened. We watch the funeral and mourned with the First Family and little John I remember my mother crying softly as we watched.  

They called it Camelot, we know now it wasn't but then it was, and we believed it. The Kennedy’s were America’s family. We rejoiced over them and cried with them when Patrick was still born. We laughed with them, I still have my First Family Album by Vaughn Meter. Finally we mourned with them. In many ways I believe my generation still mourns Kennedy’s assassination. 

Little did I know how much Kennedy’s assignation was to effect my life and the lives of millions of others around the world. Our whole family watched on live television as Linden Johnson was sworn in as President. My mother the wonderful naive positive woman that she was said that Johnson would be able to get all of Kennedy’s programs passed because he had great influence in the congress. She was right Johnson did pass a whole lot of legislation. Up to the Vietnam War Johnson was considered a great president by my family and most democrats. But after the Gulf of Ton-kin Resolution his popularity would slide. Yet, between November 1963 and November 1965 my life went on as though nothing had happened. 

As my high school years started to draw to a close I started to realize that I had very few options upon graduation. My grades barred me from college, not that college ever entered my mind. I was the son of a blue collar working man and other than graduating from high school continuing my education never entered my mind. I believed then my future was the factory and maybe a trade school but college… no way! My dad often talked of “college boys” and how stupid they were when it came to the factory floor. It was a class arrogance that still permeates our society today. Working men knew how to get things done while college boys only had theory. It wasn't that education was frowned upon it just wasn't pushed as a means to a good future for me.  Dad kept pushing me to learn a trade something, some skill that would make me valuable to my employer. He told me many times that being a trade’s man allowed him to earn a living throughout hard times.

My grandfather had worked for Electromotive and had pension after he retired. Most of my uncles were blue collar and union men. Often the discussions around the kitchen table revolved around being in the trades and learning a trade. Dad went into an apprenticeship program at the age of 40 to learn how to be a machinist at Union Carbide.  He attended night school over the course of his four year apprenticeship program to learn higher mathematics and took other necessary courses so he could become a journeyman at his trade. He was so proud when he finished the apprenticeship program.  

As I became more aware of who and what I was, as most kids do during high school, I realized that my future was not going to be in Dolton with my family and extended family. I instinctively knew that for me to become anything but a general factory worker I had to leave and get out on my own. I also knew that my options were severely limited. My grades in high school were about average; I failed some classes, I had to attend summer school twice for math, and did well in others. But nothing that qualified me for college. I had no interest in cars or the trades so my going to trade school wasn't going to happen.  

As with most young men in the early 60's if you didn't go to college or into a trade school or apprenticeship program you got drafted. I knew the military was in my future. The one thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to chart my own course after graduation. So late in the summer of 1964 while my parents and sister were on vacation I had my number for the draft moved up.  I didn't want my mother to know I would be going away especially into the military so moving up my number was a way to do it without her knowing it was my choice.  I wanted to go after my birthday so I selected November as the date I would go. My plan was to enlist after getting my draft notice.  I had no way of knowing it then but going into the military was going to change my life forever in ways I could never imagine.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Unexamined Belief System High School Part VIII


My First Real Job/I get close with my dad:

Late in my sophomore year at Thornridge my dad’s company Union Carbide went on strike. Dad believed a man was not a man if he wasn’t working. Dad needed to work, so after his time on the picket line he looked for a job. The job he found was to change his and my life.  It was a small hot water heater company was looking for a machinist and dad got the job. I remember him telling me, “I was honest with him. I told him we were on strike and that all I could promise was eight hours work for eight hours pay.”   

TETCO Metal Products was a small plant that made hot water heaters in Riverdale. When the strike ended dad stayed on at TETCO and worded weekends and evenings for several years. He dearly loved working at TETCO. I often wondered what it was about TETCO that made him so happy. Looking back it, TETCO gave him a place where he could use all his skills and intelligence. It gave him a deep pride in his work a pride he never got at his union job at Carbide. In fact he worked harder at TETCO than at his full time job. I think the reason for this was Carbide was a job he had to have and TETCO was the job he wanted.  TETCO also gave him something he needed desperately, respect.    

Right or wrong dad never believed he was loved or respected by our extended family. He felt he was always being put down and that he was not really wanted.  I believe he may have been partially right.  I obtained his military medical records and personal file after he passed away. What I found has helped me to understand his feelings.  I often felt the same way growing up and his records helped to validate my own feelings as well, at least in part. Growing up it seemed as if Dad and I were always a step behind and to the left of our extended family. Very often especially in my younger years I felt mom had some resentment toward me. It was one of those feelings that made no sense.  Growing up I always felt loved but also felt some unease on the periphery of my consciousness. 

Often during my sophomore and early junior years I would walk from1530 University Ave down Greenwood road the four or five miles to TETCO to visit with dad. Sometimes I would hop a freight heading to the freight yards in Dolton. The tracks ran the west side of Greenwood Road. I’ll never forget my first hop. I had just crossed Sibley Boulevard and was walking down Greenwood when I saw the slow moving freight train. It was going just a little faster than I was walking. I remembered old movies where hobos often hopped the freight and sat in empty boxcars. I ran across the road and started trotting alongside the train. Then with a boyish sense of adventure I grabbed the ladder going up the side of the boxcar I was running alongside and I was riding my way into Dolton.  It brought me less than a half a block from TETCO, neat! Hoping freight became my means of transportation to visit dad until I got my license to drive.  

Being with dad as he was working, seeing him creating something out of a block of steel and the joy he had in doing a job well greatly impacted me. My dad had no union at TETCO but he did have skill and a joy in doing a good job. As a result he was valuable to Mr. Teters who paid him well and gave him more and more responsibility within the plant. My dad had something Mr. Teters wanted and my dad was happy to sell his knowledge and ability to Mr. Teters at a good price. I remember my dad letting me run a milling machine and bringing the cut to within 1/1000 of an inch.  He showed me how to use a set of calipers to make measurements and a feeler gauge.  One night I visited him and he showed me how to use a me use a spot welder then gave me two pieces of metal to weld together. Another night he showed me how to use a welder and weld using a welding rod by “carrying a bead” down two pieces of steel. The more I saw my dad work using various trades he had learned over the years the more it hit me that the more you know the more you are worth.

In my junior year dad got me a job as a janitor at the plant. I was to work his hours and he would be my supervisor. Mr. Teters and my dad showed me around the places I would have to clean. It looked fairly easy until we walked into the workers locker room. It was a room that would inspire revulsion in the most hardened janitor. Too say it was filthy, dirty and gross would be an understatement. As we walked into the locker room we passed eight commodes. Each more gross than the other. It was like someone had purposely spread feces over the porcelain parts of the bowl. Used toilet paper lay on the floor evidently some people are so lazy putting toilet paper in the bowl is too hard.

The locker room itself was filled with dirty pictures and magazines, for me the only good part of the whole thing. My dad saw my revulsion and smiled. Later, when Mr. Teters left for the day dad found me cleaning one of the offices. He took me to the men’s locker room and gave me one of the most valuable lessons of my life. “Do the hardest job first and remember” he said with a smile, “you can always wash your hands and shower after work, and it looks like you’ll need too." he went on, "Remember you are here on my recommendation don’t let me down.” Then he showed me the best way to clean the locker room, a power hose, rubber gloves, strong cleaning solution and a long handled brush. I’m proud to say when I was done the locker room and commodes never looked so clean. Neither did the offices and break areas. Throughout the first night dad kept coming to check on me telling me how to best do the work and making sure it was done properly.  After the first night except for an end of shift inspection he left me alone. 

Over the next several weeks the complements started to come, “This is the cleanest the locker room has ever been.” It amazed me that the men actually started to clean up after themselves. The locker room still needed cleaning and the power hose was more than useful but as long as I kept it really clean they helped to keep it that way. It was the same in the break areas and in the offices.

As I got better at cleaning I got done quicker. Leaving me a couple of hours a night to do my homework my grades started to improve as a result. Working and the complements of doing a good job gave me confidence; confidence inspired me in other areas.  I was changing. More important I was growing closer to my dad than ever before. We were not just father and son anymore, he was my supervisor, my mentor but more we were actually becoming confidants. 

Thursday, November 22, 2012

High School Part VII


In the summer 1960 we converted from being non-denominational to Roman Catholicism. We took our instruction at St. Jude in South Holland. St. Jude had a young priest for the youth and an older priest, Father Naughton who was the lead pastor. I was taught about the church by Father Naughton a very down to earth priest. He taught me so well and had such an influence on me that he was the reason for my leaving the church in 1970. I really liked the Catholic Church of the early 1960s. It still had the Latin mass, The Pope was still infallible and people believed it. The Church condemned movies and books that were deemed as not appropriate for Christians. There was holiness about the way the mass was celebrated especially on high holy days. The three hour fast for food and the one hour fast for water before communion made communion even to a young man holy and meaningful. There was a morality and hope that appealed to me as a young man who was struggling with all those wonderful things teenage boys struggle with becoming men. The church was a rock something stable and unchanging in my life.

Father Naughton taught me that the church was traditional and historic. It could trace its lineage back to Peter the apostle who Roman Catholics revere as the first Pope. He taught me that the Catholic Church was the true church because it was the same yesterday as it is today and that God and His Church are unchangeable. Right is always right and wrong is always wrong. I was enthralled with something holy that could trace its origins all the way back to Jesus. At the time it seemed very logical that the Roman Church was the true church. Being a lover of history the Church’s celebrating the mass the same way for over a thousand years was very special to me. I was taking part in history and in something holy.  I was taught that as long as I went to confession and communion my sins would be forgiven after proper heart felt penance. It gave me a sense of hope that after being cleansed in purgatory I’d make it to heaven as would all baptized Catholics.

Those of us who attended public school had to attend High School of Religion at Saint Jude. High School of Religion taught about the inner workings of the Roman Catholic Church, the saints, what the mass really meant and well everything we would need to know to be good Catholics. We were taught that confession, a good act of contrition and penance followed by communion gave us a clean slate. The idea came to us that we could date on Friday night then go to confession on Saturday night do an act of contrition and penance then take communion on Sunday. Too our way of thinking what happened on Friday night could be confessed on Saturday and then on Sunday after communion we were good to go again until Friday night. The idea that all we had to do was confess, do penance and our sins were forgiven was to us the neatest thing. Every week we would have a clean slate!

It’s not that I dated much at all but I did have a couple of dates and boys will be boys.  When we dated we were after a “home run”. We as I’m sure most teenage boys do use baseball as a way of bragging about how far we got on a date. Most of us never hit a home run and getting to second or third was in our dreams only. Yet, if we even got to second we knew it was a sin so all we had to do was confess it and move on and hope next week the confession would be better. As far as I was concerned church was a matter of faith and mechanics. Sin then go to confession, perform penance, go to communion and have a clean slate, rinse and repeat. Perfect for a guy like me trying to get away with sinning and yet get to heaven. 

I was still having problems in school but not nearly as much as in grade and junior high. I even had the courage to fight a couple of times I lost one and almost one, one. My self-image was improving but I was still lacked confidence but I was slowing changing. Bullies mostly were in gym class and sometimes in the hallway and in study hall. Much of it could be avoided by being alert. In many ways being bullied and having to be on alert all the time in school saved me in Vietnam where being aware and on alert could mean life or death.  

I even stood up to some of the bullies once and even backed them down. I was always taught that girls and woman were to be respected. There was one girl who was being picked on they were calling her names and being very cruel to her. It was a beautiful spring day and we were eating our lunch in the courtyard between buildings. They started to pick on her calling her Cheetah, they made her cry. I don’t know why but I found myself telling them to leave her alone. It must have been the way I said it because they did. I may have paid for that later in gym class I don’t remember but looking back I think it was the confidence and knowing that I was more than willing to fight for her that moved them away. Sometimes it is not our ability but the confidence we show in it that really matters.

I as I mentioned before I was not the best student especially when it came to math and algebra both were required for graduation. I was so bad that I had to attend summer school twice.  I failed because I just didn’t like to study mathematics or algebra. Being a little slow I didn’t learn the secret of doing what you don’t like first to be done with it. So for two summers I had to ride my bike to Thornton about ten miles away for summer school. Dad and mom wanted to make a point, “You failed now you have to go to summer school and I’m not taking you. Ride your bike or walk but you get there and you better pass.” I remember they took some heat from some in the family, “You’re being too hard on him.” they said but I thank God that I had parents who loved me enough to make me uncomfortable. It was hard to ride my bike or find my own way to summer school but in the end it taught me a valuable lesson. I didn't learn the lesson quickly, (having to go to summer school twice) but I learned, there are consequences to failure, so don’t fail.     

Looking back my high school experiences, being in a small business making and selling bikes, cutting grass and washing cars, snow shoveling driveways and sidewalks taught me the value of working hard. Having to get myself to summer school taught me that poor decisions have a price and I am responsible for my poor decisions. These were the seeds of my later political beliefs.                   

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Unexamined Belief System Politics Part VI High School


High School Years

In the spring of 1961 we moved into a rented apartment at 15030 University in Dolton. Though it seemed we lived at 111 Street for years it was only a summer, fall and winter and part of a spring. The apartment on University was very nice it had two bedrooms a master bedroom and a smaller bedroom. My dad cut the master bedroom in half so my sister and I could share it. Once she got of a certain age I was moved out into the dining room. Girls after all need their privacy.

The apartment was within walking distance from Thornridge so in rain, snow, bitter cold and 90 plus degree heat I walked to school. There was never a thought of getting a ride from mom and certainly not dad. After all walking is how they got to school, “Why when I was your age I had to walk through knee deep snow to school wearing nothing but galoshes and an old winter coat.” There were of course variations to the story. Substitute rain for snow, or add in bitter cold or heat. 

Most days walking to school was enjoyable, a chance to meet up with friends and talk. Days when it snowed we had snowball fights on the way. When it rained or was too cold or too snowy we just toughed it out, we didn't melt or get sick. Now the very idea of walking to school in inclement weather is unthinkable. That rite of passage is gone for the most part. We do everything to protect our children from even the littlest hurt or inconvenience. Just riding a bike requires a helmet, arm pads and knee pads. We never would consider wearing those things when I was young. Getting hurt, cut, scraped and bloodied was a badge of honor especially for boys.

We live in a very hard and sometimes very cruel world. Those who cannot adapt or who are weak will not survive. Nor will a nation that is made up of weak people who are looking to be taken care of. We as a nation are rapidly losing our ability to care for ourselves. We are constantly looking to the government to solve problems we should be solving ourselves. If we continue to give up our freedom to be taken care of we will soon lose all of our freedoms and like those in North Korea singing the praises of our Great Leader who cares for us.

If there was one thing we knew in my father’s house it was respect for our elders, period end of conversation. If our parents told us to do something we did it or suffered the consequences. My dad use to say, “My children may not love me but they WILL respect me.” In the end I both loved and respected my dad and mom. I thank them for giving me the self-discipline to succeed in life. Without their teaching I could never have done or accomplished anything. My dad taught me that if I wanted something I would have to work for it. That teaching has led me to places I could never have gone or have hoped to have gone. Hard work  and education always leads to a better life.

Living on University Avenue was to be some of the best times of my life. The bulling at Thornridge was in many respects easier to take. There were three of us who didn't fit in with any group and we became friends. It’s easier to go through hard times with friends. One summer day we were fixing our bikes in an old shed by the garage and one of us suggested building bikes and selling them. The next day we went to the Dolton dump and searched through the garbage for bike parts. We found plenty. One man’s junk another man’s treasure.

Two days later we sold our first bike for $35 and our bike business was born. We used the old shed by the garage as our workshop. Throughout the summer we would take the parts from the dump and build a bike out of them and sell it. We got the frames and parts for free and sold most of our bikes at a $35 profit. We got so good at putting bikes together we could build two or three bikes a week easily. We advertised in the Shopper a local paper especially made for buying and selling unwanted or unneeded items. It was free and our only source of advertising.  

We all came from working class families and were taught that if we wanted money we had to earn it. We had pride in being self-sufficient in earning our own money. The bike shop was just one of the things we did. We had a grass cutting, car and window washing and general cleanup business. Every Saturday during the school year when the weather was nice and every day, almost, during summer vacation we went house to house offering to cut grass, wash cars and so on. We made very good money sometime over a hundred dollars a day to be divided among three of us. Because we all worked together we were able to wash several cars and cut several lawns a day. We even had areas set aside. On Monday we worked one area then on Tuesday another and so on. We instinctively knew not to work the same area every day.   

We loved winter especially really snowy winters. We would go door to door offering to shovel driveways and sidewalks.  Very often we made well over a hundred dollars a night. This was before the advent of snow blowers in every garage. Many men didn't want to shovel snow after a hard day’s work. Many times we would be walking by a man shoveling and get a job without asking. The three of us could shovel several houses during a three or four hour period.


Friday, November 2, 2012

The Unexamined Belief System - Politics Part V High School



I graduated Junior High School in May 1960. Shortly after graduation we moved to Roseland, a suburb of Chicago. We lived in a coal heated third floor walk-up that was built in the late 1920's early 1930's. Every morning when it was cold I had to go down to the basement and take care of the furnace to get the coal burning and every night before bed I had to go to the basement to bank the fire so it wouldn't go out.  

Our apartment was located at 111 street just a couple of blocks from where I started school when I was five. It was like coming home to one of the happiest time of my early life. I walked right past my old house on the way to catch the bus to Dolton where I would catch the school bus to Thornridge. After school I would get off the school bus and catch the city bus home. I liked the anonymity of attending school in this way. I didn't have time for anyone to come to know me. There were no after school functions for me to attend I was a slave to the bus and I loved it. We used my aunt's address in Dolton so I could attend high school out of district.

My living at 111 street only lasted a couple of months.  Someone reported that I was not living in district as a result I had to move in with my uncle and aunt. So I could show I had an address in Dolton and was actually living there. I made some friends and was able to hang out with them rather than go home to Roseland immediately after school. I played “sandlot” football and other sports. High school was going to be great, or so I thought at the time. But one of the first lessons of life was soon to hit me right between the eyes was “You can run, you can move but in the end no matter where you go there YOU are.” Even though I was able to fake it for a time that kid that was bullied, who lacked confidence and who was afraid to fight was still with me and he was going to come out.

My parents thought there was nothing wrong with what we were doing i.e., me attending school in Dolton while living in Roseland. After all we were going to move to Dolton soon and they didn't want me to have to switch schools. Looking back over the course of my life I have realized this was the first contradiction of which I was aware and it helped to set my life’s course.  On the one hand we as low – middle income Democrats and strong union members believed the government was there to protect us, solve our problems, and help us when we fell on hard times. The government was also to keep the wealthy and corporations in line. However, when government rules were inconvenient we had no problem in bending them to fit our personal needs. Just like the privileged who were condemned for doing the same thing. It was an unspoken belief that if we, who were poor needed something and could get it be bending the rules so what! We had two standards one for regular people and one the wealthy and influential.  The one trait that seems prevalent in people is the double standard.  I have worked hard not to have one especially when it comes to people and politics. 

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Unexamined Belief System Politics Part IV

Being a poor student and being bullied

I attended Union Center grade school it was in many ways the best of times and the worst of times for me. There were two classes to one room and one teacher to two classes. We had recess in the morning for about fifteen minutes and an hour for lunch then recess in the afternoon. The school was set on a hill where sledding was great in the winter, we used cardboard and sleds we brought from home to slide down the hill, it was wonderful. Behind the school was a wooded area and we made lean-too's along the back fence. It could be bitterly cold and inside the lean-to it was as warm as toast. There was no such thing as being too cold to go out for recess.

There was an old red barn on school property where a farmer kept his tractor and such. We use to go behind the barn for boy things like smoking or at least trying too smoke. Everyone smoked then and boys being boys we had to try it. Like father like son. I was an average student for my first three years at Union Center I had friends and life was for the most part good, then came the kids from Wheeler.

When I entered fifth grade the kids from Wheeler came to our school and with them came three bullies, I'll call them Larry, Moe and Curley, (The nice thing about writing is you get to name your characters). Larry and Moe were brothers and Curley was their running buddy they took an immediate dislike to me. Over the next four years they would make my life a living hell. Yet through it all, although I didn't know it at the time they were making me into a strong willed self sufficient person and toughening me for the trials that lay ahead. But at the time the bulling not only affected my school work and life at school it also affected my home life and life with my extended family. The effect was in many ways devastating and in some ways still effects my relationships.

Yet in the end, I would not trade that time for anything. Looking back on all they did to me the telephone calls, urinating in my gym shoes, getting beaten up and all the harassment at school only served to make me stronger. In the end they were their own victims and I became the man I am today in part because of them and in part in spite of them.

I went back to Union Center the late 1990's or early 2000's to speak at the school for Veterans Day. When I walked into the school the school secretary remembered me from grade and junior high school. She informed that Larry had been arrested as a peeping tom and did some time in jail, Moe had been in jail but had turned his life around and now had a family and Curley could be found at the local tavern in Wheeler just about every day, he was a drunk. I really wanted to feel good about it but I felt sad. They too had been a victim of their own bulling.  While they got away with things in school in the end life and the law of return caught up with them. What goes around, comes around. 

Friday, September 28, 2012

The Unexamined Belief System- Politics Part III

Growing Up in the 50's 

While I was growing up I remember my dad working two sometimes three jobs to make ends meet. Today, that would be unheard of, a man working two or three jobs while the wife stayed home and took care of the house and children but not back then. My dad believed very strongly a man to be a man must provide for his family. Though mom did occasionally work to get us over the rough spots she was mostly a mom to my sister and I. I remember coming home from school getting off the bus and running into the house to be greeted by mom. She would usually have some kind of snack ready for me, ask me if I had homework and then send me out to play until supper time. On cold or rainy days I could watch television, Mickey Mouse Club was my favorite.

There was a stability then. Each of us had our jobs Dad worked and "put food on the table, clothing on your back and a roof over your head." Mom took care of my sister and I this included being both doctor and nurse when we were sick. We didn't go to the doctor unless we were really, really sick. Mom also took care of canning our vegetables and berries and such for winter, did the laundry, cleaned the house, took my sister and I where ever we needed to go. We each had jobs and her's was to run the household, dad's was to work and ours was to do what we were told, period end of conversation. We were the children not little adults. They told us we didn't tell them. Mom and Dad taught us how to talk with respect to other people especially adults, who were called sir or  ma'am or Mr. or Mrs. there were no first names used toward adults.

I am often amazed at how parents are told by their children what to do. I would never have gotten away with that when I was a child nor as a teenager. My parents had a simple rule, "my house, my rules." very simple and to the point. As a result of those rules I never got in trouble as a child. My dad never had to bail me out of jail. Why? Because I both feared him and respected him and my mom. He was the authority figure in our house. I remember so often mom saying, "Wait until your father gets home." and living in fear of 3:30 P. M. when he would usually walk in the door. One time, I was sixteen as I recall, mom said, something and I said, "What are you going to tell me, 'wait until your father gets home?', out from the bedroom came my father. He said, "She won't have too!" He grabbed my shirt just under my chin then proceeded to lift me up off my feet. He said, "I don't care how you talk to your mother, BUT NEVER TALK TO MY WIFE THAT WAY!" each word was punctuated with a short jab to my chin with the hand with which he had grasped my shirt he made his point that way word by word. For as long as my parents were alive I never again disrespected my mother. Later he told me I turned white as a sheet when he walked out the door. I have no reason to doubt it. He scared the hell out of me literally.

We had a strong family where respect was demanded and earned. Children were children and had no say in what adults wanted or did. Unless we were asked we were not allowed an opinion, well we had opinions but we learned to hold our tongue early in life. There was a comfort in knowing mom and dad were in charge. I and my sister had a feeling that as long as they were there everything would be all right.  This feeling lasted up to and included the day my father passed away. There was something about him that demanded my respect and that made me feel as long as he was there everything would be all right. With all his faults and he had many he was still a man I loved and respected his passing left a vacuum that would never be filled. He has been gone well over fifteen years and I still miss him every day.








Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Unexamined Belief System- Politics Part II

How my Political Beliefs Were Formed:

My mom and dad were traditionalists as was my whole extended family. There was a pride in working, in learning a trade. There was also a strong sense of self-reliance. My dad especially could fix or repair anything. There was not a car in our family that dad had not worked on at one time or another. Dad took pride in his work both at the factory and at home. He had a confidence that he could fix anything. He helped my uncle put a floor in his basement. He did pluming and electrical work, he worked on gas lines in the house. There was nothing he could not fix or make work. He taught me to be self-reliant to depend upon no one.

When I was in third grade we moved to Lake Eliza Indiana it was our first house. It set on an acre and a half. The house sat on a quarter acre the rest was to become our garden, a place to play ball and a place to raise chickens and even pigs. I remember spring, summer and fall being gardening time. My school ended in mid May and started in September after Labor day. My summer vacation consisted of planting, weeding and watering the garden every day. I also had to cut the grass on the house lot and the lot we had next to it. I had to feed the chickens, (Which as I recall we had quite a while) and the pigs which we had for the couple of months until they escaped, (More on that another time.).

After completing my chores the day was mine.  It usually involved riding my bike to Lake Eliza about 4 miles a way to go swimming, or to the Tommy Fitzgerald's petting farm. We could rent a horse for a couple of hours for two or three dollars. Funny there was no bubble wrapping us to ride our bikes. It was part of growing up to get hurt, bleed and have scabs to pick in front of girls.  We found a pond on one of the farmers fields and often skinny dipped there and cooked our lunch, made up of his corn and whatever be brought from home. When I was in third grade I hunted squirrels and rabbits with a 4/10 shotgun. I shot at a few but don't recall hitting any. Now in target and sporting clays shooting I realize not much has changed. We played army and had the most marvelous wars in the wood behind our house. We played army with BB guns and several times we had to dig a BB out of the butt of one of our friends. Thankfully our mothers never found out what  we were doing, you know its fun until someone looses and eye. The world was ours.

When strawberries, raspberries, blackberries came into season usually by mid June we picked them all summer long. Sometimes we would get up early in the morning and pick a bunch for breakfast. Mom and my aunt canned them or made the most wonderful pies , my favorite were the fried pies.  Over the winter we had no end of berry jam and jelly, berry syrup and just plain old canned berries for pies, I dearly love pie because it brings back the best memories of my youth.

Mom and my aunt canned our garden vegetables and we never knew what it was to buy canned vegetables until we moved into the city. If we needed meat we bought it at Tommy Fitzgerald's meat locker where we could buy a quarter of a steer or pig. We also got farm fresh eggs when we no longer had chickens. We were  mostly self-reliant for food. Looking back I realize that being in the city makes one dependent. Dependent on the grocery store for food, dependent on the government for water and sewer, dependent on the government transportation. The more we came/come to depend upon the government the more freedom we give up.















Sunday, September 23, 2012

Unexamined Belief System - Political Views

Political Views, (No what do you really think?)

Introduction:

I was raised a Democrat and very pro union. I remember one of our family elders saying that "I'd vote for Al Capone if he was running as a democrat rather than a Republican." He went on as he often did, "Republicans are for the rich, Democrats are for the "little man." On and on it would go about how the Democrats always treated the worker better than the Republicans. These wonderful discussions usually lead by the Pater Familias and joined by all the adult males would argue the plight of the "little man", women were usually in the kitchen back then and rarely got involved in "men's conversation". The talk would range from how Unions protected the worker from the "Big Men", (I've really grown to dislike that term. But it is such a part of my memory of those days that I have to use it.) and how the Democrats had the "little man's" best interest at heart. 

Now, looking back on arguments I'm amazed at how true they were for the time and how false they were. I'm also saddened, that as a result of the "big man" "little man" arguments some of us accepted our fate as "little men" who never had a chance and so we never tried to climb the mountain. There were some however, who not only climbed the mountain but they made it to the top! These refused to accept that they could not achieve. They refused to accept mediocrity and just stay in their place and complain. In a sense there were two paths offered growing up stay a "little man" or achieve great things. I, until I retired, choose to be safe in a nice government job. While some of my more successful relatives choose to achieve and they did and so did their children! These very successful relatives set high standards for themselves and their children and success followed.   

Life is complicated.  Mom and Dad were children during the Great Depression, the singular economic event of the last century. The Great Depression changed forever the way people thought and acted . I remember growing up dad and mom telling me over and over again not to waist food and too clean my plate. I remember how mom could make a Sunday chicken last until Wednesday. Sunday, roasted chicken, Monday leftovers like Chicken Ala King, Tuesday maybe a chicken salad in our lunch and Wednesday chicken soup. This of course depended upon the size of the chicken some were big roasters other just fryers that would last only two days. I don't remember being allowed special dinners because I didn't like something. Dad would say, "This is dinner you will taste everything." Then we'd get the lecture of how mom worked hard to make dinner and we should appreciate what we have, "children in China are starving." And yes I did once suggest they send them my share, it didn't go well with me and my dad was not happy. I remember sitting at the table for quite along time before I finally got it through my head that I could eat my dinner in five minutes and watch TV or I could sit there for the rest of my life. I ate the food. 

















Friday, August 24, 2012

Why I am a Christian Part IV:

My mother Influence:

Several years ago the small group I led at our church started a Bible study at the Lake County Jail. The book we used was the “Purpose Driven Life” by Rick Warren. The first sentence in the first chapter reads, “It’s not about you.” The first time I read this sentence, I thought of my mother. She taught me that it’s not about me but others. It was a lesson that has taken me a life time to learn and I’m still learning it.
Over the course of my life I have been selfish, self absorbed and self centered. But the older I get the more I come to understand the example mom set for me. She, from as far back as I can remember, gave of herself. Unlike so many people I've known, mom gave without expecting anything back. She gave when even people she loved treated her poorly. It’s a trait that I've had to work very hard to emulate. Very often her example pushes me through those times when I want it to be “it’s all about me.”  
This is not to say mom was a perfect woman by any stretch.  She had a stubborn streak. When she got set on something, heaven and earth would move but not her. But her way of getting her way was quiet and persistent. Sometimes she would use someone close to her to facilitate her wishes. I’d often get a call from dad or someone else who would, after beating around the bush, tell me what mom wanted. Mom was one of those people I very rarely turned down. There is a special relationship between mothers and their sons.
One of her ways of making her point was her razor sharp tongue and her subtle way of using it.  It often caused me to laugh even while I was angry with her. She would say something that seemed nice or complimentary but a few days or weeks after, what she meant would really sink in. I’d be working in the garden and all of a sudden my head would fall off as I realized her compliment was really a zinger. Her razor sharp tongue had struck again. I have often tried to imitate her in this but just don’t have her delivery.      
My dad and mother were always there to help relatives and friends in need. I remember how over the years she would clean the house, cook and do laundry for family and friends who were sick or in need. She lived “it’s not about me.” When others made it, “it’s all about me” she never, to my knowledge, gave into being self-centered or self-serving.  My mother had a unique ability to forgive and only saw the good in people even those who treated her poorly.
Where my dad was an in your face “you got to hit’em between the eyes” Christian, my mother was a quiet example of the faith. Where my dad struggled with forgiveness, my mother forgave easily. Where my dad could walk into a room and in five minutes know everyone, mom was shy and took a long time to be comfortable around people. It was very hard for her to meet someone for the first time. But when she got to know them, they were friends for life and she had some very interesting friends. She never judged them. She accepted them with all their interesting traits and foibles. Over the years I have tried to be like her in this regard but have never come close to her ability to accept people just as they are. Though I try to be accepting I’m still rather judgmental.
Closing

            My mother and father taught me how to sacrifice themselves for others. I think the one thing they did that best exemplifies their sacrificial attitude was their religiously visiting my uncle who had been placed in the Kankakee State hospital early in his life. They persisted in visiting him throughout his life time taking their turn. Then as life and family issues caused some to stop visiting him they persisted in visiting at least once or sometimes even twice a month. I remember how over the course of two years I had one weekend free a month and would invite mom and dad to come on Sunday only to be told occasionally it was their day to go to Kankakee. One particular Saturday mom told me they couldn't come because it was their Sunday to visit my uncle. I got really mad and voiced my anger to her. She got mad right back and told me in no uncertain terms how blessed I was to have all I have while he had nothing but their visits. I felt about 1/8” of an inch tall by the time she was finished.

            Dad and mom were first and foremost a couple who desperately wanted to lead people to the Lord. They volunteered at the Seaman’s Mission at the Port of Chicago. They went once a week and sometimes twice for several years. Mom would stay in the Mission and run the store and visit with the sailors who came in while dad would visit the ships giving out Bibles. They truly lived their faith and showed it by their works.  Dad held a job in a factory as a machinist and worked among men who read every type of girly magazine available, who swore and told off color jokes. Yet in the midst of all this, he kept his Bible out on his work station. He read it at break and lunch and he led many of his fellow workers to the Lord.
Both mom and dad witnessed incessantly to relatives, sometimes to the point of distraction. Some stopped coming over to visit them because of their witnessing. But they never stopped trying to bring people they loved to Christ. Some have questioned the telling of my father’s faults. But my dad’s relationship with the Lord was strong as was my mother’s. My dad especially knew beyond any doubt that though others would not forgive him, his Lord and Savior would, as the old song “Just As I Am” says,

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bids me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, of that free love
The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove,
Here for a season, then above,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

My mother had the same strong faith. Both wanted nothing more in life after being saved than to lead others to the Lord. I know and believe that my father would be very happy if his story would result in just one person coming to the faith, as would my mother.  
            It is my sincere hope and prayer that those who read this will come to know the Lord whose grace and mercy saved my father and mother. I know they would love to know that those who once rejected the faith would finally now come to know the Lord they knew and accept His grace and mercy.

Personal Note: These last three blogs have been one of the hardest things I've ever written. Its brought back some very wonderful memories and some very bad ones. But in the end it for all it cost it is worth it. I have remembered the greatness that was my parents and so much more. I have learned again how things really are and it doesn't matter.   I know that to honor my mother and father and my Lord and Savior even if I cannot forget I can still forgive and move on. My faith walk here is a long journey with a known end.
Next the easy things like why I think much of evolution is a crock, why I believe the Bible, and my political beliefs, (which will probably surprise a whole lot of people.). And throughout it all why I question everything.

THE PURPOSE DRIVEN LIFE A Perspective Chapter 1:  It All Starts with God, continued “You were made by God and for God – and un...