Wednesday, April 30, 2014

FEELINGS


                                                           
I was reading some birthday greetings, from my family, off my phone a while back and out loud to a friend that was with me. My voice started to crack as I read them and my friend said, “Don’t cry.” I stopped reading them out loud and finished reading them to myself. At first I was somewhat ashamed that I had lost my composure that easily but later I thought “no, you know what? I’ll cry if I want to.” As well meaning as my friends comment was, I didn’t want to suppress those emotions. I spent too much of my life doing just that. Maybe what my friend meant was simply, “don’t cry here” and maybe my friend was just saying get a grip on yourself. I guess I’ll never know but what I do know is someday, someplace, I’ll be made proud again-- and I’ll cry again.

As I think over my life and all of the trials and tribulations I have been through, proud times, happy times and sad times, patriotic times and days of utter chaos, I often think maybe I didn’t cry enough in the past. There was a time in my life when I suppressed every notion of crying and a time when I felt it wasn’t a manly thing to do. It was a time when I viewed it as a weakness and indicative of someone who was not in control of themselves. It was a time when I felt that only women cried and men swore instead. Now with the wisdom of age on my side, I know better. Charles Dickenson said in Great Expectations: “Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears. For they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth-- overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried than before---more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.”

Old age brings us some big changes in our lives and I’m not just talking about physically but emotionally as well. Just as our bodies become frailer and fail us and are harder to control, so it is with our good emotions like happiness, pride, love and yes even sadness. They seem to lay just under the surface sometimes and it doesn’t take a lot of effort to bring them to the surface. At the same time those bad emotions that cursed us for so long like anger, envy and jealously and got us in so much trouble in life’s past seem to temper and soften and not get in the way so often anymore. With sad crying however there comes a time when you want to weep and be comforted because you’re tired of always trying to be strong. Carl Sandburg said, “Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time and yes—sometimes you weep,”

Those tears I spoke of at the start of this essay were tears of pride and love. Happy tears you earned the right to shed because you loved somebody and they just loved you back. But tears of sadness are all to often shed today. Sadness because we lost someone we loved to sickness or death. Sadness because were frustrated with family problems or financial problems. Sadness over a world that seems so far out of sync with our values and beliefs and we feel so powerless to do anything about it. Yes, it’s so ironic that the tears come easy when we are babes and just entering the world and then here they come again at the other end of life when we are old and growing closer to the end. 

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

WOLVES VERSES HUMANS



When I wrote my first book, “A Long Way Back,” I included a Timber wolf in the story. I wanted the wolf to be a help to the people in the story, not a hindrance or a danger, and I think I achieved that. In order that my story would be as factual as possible, I studied wolves for some time. I wanted to know more about their habits, their family life and how they live. What I found out has caused me to draw some comparisons between their family structure, and those of human beings.

Wolves are very family-oriented. They live in packs or families because, in a lot of ways, they are dependent on each other. Wolves will hunt and then bring back food to their pups, who are not yet able to hunt. There is, however, no free lunch forever, and no living in Mom and Dad’s basement. At some point, the pups are banished from the pack, and they learn to hunt on their own or they starve. It’s called, “growing up” in our society. Wolves will fight to the death to protect their families and homeland, and that can include fighting wolves from other packs, much as we protect our kids from those who wish to harm them. The natural mortality rate is high for wolves.

They have been depicted as natural born killers, and yes, if they are allowed to live close to livestock they will take an easy kill. Programs are in place to trap predatory wolves that do this, and to reimburse the ranchers. They are little, if any, threat to people, and they will do all they can to avoid confrontation with us. They kill only what they eat and they don’t waste any of it; compared to humans who throw away a lot of what they eat. In short, they hunt to eat and not for sport. Wolves are very good at communicating with each other. When you hear wolves howling, you don’t need to be afraid—they aren’t talking to you—they’re talking to each other.

As I said, the family structure of a wolf pack resembles human families except that most male wolves, that father the young, stick around and help out with raising them. Percentage-wise—far more than humans do. Why am I saying all this? Because we could take lessons from these animals on family living. After all, aren’t we the head of the food chain?

The wolf’s worst enemy is man. He doesn’t hunt just for food, he often hunts for sport, for the chance to hang a pelt on his wall and brag to his friends about the wolf he killed. They’re not good to eat. When you kill one, you disrupt the pack, perhaps causing many more to starve to death. Wolves do kill deer, which man does hunt and eat. But man has other ways to feed himself, and wolves do not. Wolves and deer have lived together in the same areas forever. Nature has a way of balancing this out. When food is scarce they move elsewhere—somewhat like when humans lose their jobs and there is no more employment in the area, but you are intent on working, so you look in other areas.

There are many species of wildlife, on this beautiful earth, that have vanished. Almost always because of man, who played a big part in it. Tigers, elephants, rhinos,  birds, and even fish and mammals in the seas, are all threatened—they are  being killed by mankind’s ego to assert his dominance. In most cases, he only asserted his ignorance.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

FATHERLY ADVICE


                                               
Just for this week, I am going to turn this column into an advice column for newly married men. At least those who are in it for the first time. Now I know many of you have fathers, grandfathers or fathers-in law’s you could talk to about matters concerning the fair sex but believe me if they are still married it would be some watered down advice you would get --if any from them. They are not allowed to speak freely about such things and I’ll tell you why later in this little ditty.

Lesson one. They know when you’re lying. You might think it’s between you and the lord but you’re wrong. All women have some kind of clairvoyant abilities. I know it sucks but like the pothole in the road, if you know its there and you avoid it, you might not get hurt. Case in point. My wife went to some church function and my one-year-old daughter made a mess in her pants. As a fireman I have bagged up dead bodies from airplane crashes but the thought of a poopy diaper still gags me to this day. I knew my wife would be home in an hour so I did the only thing I could do. Open a window and spray some air freshener. When she returned I exclaimed the minute she came in the door, “I don’t know what’s wrong with this child but I just changed her pants and I guess she wasn’t done or something,” and handed her the baby. She promptly handed her back to me and said. “Shame on you, Change that kids pants or it will be the last pair of girls pants you’ll ever take off anyone in this house.”---Ouch. Now go back to the last line of the first paragraph. Now you know.

Lesson two. Just shut up and eat it, whatever it is she made and especially if it was one of her mothers recipes. Case in point.  She once made me an old family recipe of German milk toast.  I refused to eat it telling her I was lactose intolerant. “Have you not heard about that?” I asked. “Yes Mike we’ve all heard it-- and about it,” she said “and it has nothing to do with lactose unless beer has milk in it.” She suckered the kids into thinking it was the greatest thing since cotton candy and I ate it for thirty years. The comment I made to her about  “Germany losing the war and sucking on frozen milk toast on the Russian front” was not at all helpful either.

Lesson three. Do not under any circumstances utter the words “Woman’s work.” when you are asked to help out around the house. There are not enough adjectives in the English language for me to explain the consequences of that. You might just as well call her mother, a lady of the evening, as say those words. They are poisonous words and I would give you another case in point to prove it but it’s too painful to talk about and Medicare doesn’t cover the therapy I would probably need. Excuse me; I have to change the subject.

 I’m short on room so I’m just going to throw some no-no’s out there, so take them for what they’re worth. The neighbor lady does not look good, no matter what she wears or for that matter doesn’t wear. And don’t ever tell you’re wife she looks good when its obvious she doesn’t. That’s not reverse psychology, that just stupid. To sum it up son. Life ain’t fair. The fair is where you go to get your pig judged. So just get used to it. 


Thursday, April 10, 2014

A SACRED LAND



Recently, I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Hawaii. Before you get defensive, and tell me that you’re not interested in listening to another vacation story from some lucky stiff who was able to escape some of the winter cold for a warmer climate, I want to say, this is not about that. I am sure many of you have been there, and many of you have it on your bucket list. No, this is about the way the Hawaiian people feel about their state, and how they differ from us on the mainland.

Now, on the island that I was on, there seemed to be an absence of the toys we see around our neck of the woods in the summer time. No Wave Runners or other personal watercraft; or speedboats whipping around the harbors. No four-wheelers tearing up the ditches or going across country on well-worn trails. No one harassing the wildlife. In fact, most Hawaiians hold wildlife in reverence. We traveled quite extensively around the country while we were there, and I never saw a dealer for any of those crafts; just a lot of people paddling out in the surf, or using sails to propel them on their boards, or snorkeling in the shallows, and enjoying the coral and fish. I went to an aquarium and was told they don’t capture or imprison whales, porpoises, dolphins, seals or sea lions. It is their feeling that these mammals suffer too much in captivity. Even many of the fish are only kept for a short time, and then released back into the ocean. Always, it comes back to what is good for the animals and good for the land.

Each day I walk the road by my house with my dog, and pick up the garbage that gets thrown out the car windows by people who don’t have any respect for our part of the country. Plastic bottles, glass, cans, Styrofoam and cardboard drink containers, a lot of plastic bags, and food containers. I saw little of this in Hawaii, and my gut tells me—what little there is, is thrown out by the tourists who are used to doing this back home. Once, while walking down my road, I found hundreds of prescription anxiety capsules that had been discarded along the roadside, and couldn’t help but feel the harm that would come to every bird or animal that tried to ingest the colorful capsules.

We, like the Hawaiians, are blessed with a beautiful part of the earth. The difference lies in the attitude that exists towards taking care of it. I sometimes dream about what this country was like when the only inhabitants were the Native Americans. This land must have looked to them, much like Hawaii looked to the Polynesians. Maybe the big difference I am talking about is the Polynesians never lost control of the Hawaiian Islands and still yield great influence there. As I said before, we too live in a special place but one sad day, if we keep our attitude about trying to keep everyone happy with trails and playgrounds for machines that put more pressure on nature then nature can readily fix, the outcome is not going to be pretty. I know I’m preaching to the choir with a lot of you, and to those of you who feel like I do about preserving this country for future generations, well God bless. We need to be like the Hawaiians and say no sometimes.



Tuesday, April 1, 2014

A LEARNING CHAPTER FROM MY LIFE



He was like my shadow for fourteen years. From the time I first picked him up and felt his soft puppy fur on my cheek, smelled his sweet puppy’s breath and his silky tongue on my face, I knew there was a connection. When I walked, he walked beside me, and when I sat, he sat beside me. When he was out of line and needed correcting, a simple “No” would stop him in his tracks. Ashamed of himself, he would lower his eyes and come and sit close to me, seeking redemption.

It wasn’t that he didn’t act like a normal dog, he often did. He chased squirrels and dug holes. He brought dead things home to me, and peed where he wanted to. But when it was just he and I together, then he was all business. He understood that was our time and that it was important. For fourteen years we walked together, down that lonely country road that winds around the lake. At first, he was so full of energy exploring every nook and cranny but, as the years went by, he became more content to just walk with me. Then, as the arthritis took its toll on his hips, he would walk behind me and I slowed the pace so he could keep up. No matter how badly it hurt him, though, he always wanted to go.

We would have our little talks; and he would cock his head, raise his ears, and look at me as if he understood each and every word I was saying. Oh, there were some key words that he never missed—you could sneak the words “treat” or “walk” in the middle of reciting “Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address,” and he would hear it. But I think it was mostly the tone of my voice he was locking in on. If I went to town, he went with me in the truck, always sitting high and proud in the seat, watching out the windshield for critters and such. The only thing he didn’t understand was why he had to get in the back seat, when she was with me. I had to tip the mirror up so I didn’t have to see him glaring at the back of my head.

The day I found out she was going to die, and I sat in the back porch crying, he came and put his paws and chin in my lap. He didn’t understand why I was so sad, but he knew it was serious, and he knew it was time to be close. He liked the front seat—but not this way. It’s going on three years now since she left me and two and a half since he breathed his last, curled up at my feet. Life has changed so much for me.

My new pup, Molly, has some big paws to fill. She is still a “work in progress,” but she’s learning. She’s not as subservient as Gus was yet, but she’ll come around. As for me, I’ve moved on, too, and someone else is brightening my life now. Neither she nor Molly is meant to replace anyone. You just add chapters to life’s story—you don’t delete. Our lives, like a good book, are made up of so many chapters. Some long, some short, some good and some bad, but in the end they will tell the story of our life, and all of the characters that have played their part. It’s up to us, however, to keep writing that story or it will end unfinished, and you will die a prisoner of your own captivity. How lucky I am in my story, because I have found out, through living, that life doesn’t always give you second chances, and in the end, it will matter little how we died. But it will matter, a lot, how we lived.