MEMORIAL DAY

                                                           

I was just a baby when the bombs rained down on Pearl Harbor and our country had enough of the imperialists from Japan. For over four years from that day, we fought back across the Pacific and brought Japan to its knees, culminating in a total surrender on the decks of the battle ship Missouri. Halfway around the globe from there, the U.S and it’s Allies brought another tyrant, Adolf Hitler down to defeat and for a while at least it looked like we had achieved what could be a lasting peace.

But history tells us that for all practical purposes there will never be a lasting peace in this word. That power and greed are rampant in the minds of people and somewhere; somehow, they will draw their swords and start another skirmish. If all of the money that has been spent over the years for wars and militaries, could have been used for peaceful purposes and the good of the people who’s taxes paid for it, life would be good on this planet. But yet we realize that the best offense is a strong defense and the rest of world is not going to let you live peacefully in your little corner of the world, no matter how much you want to.

Today the world is a powder keg with trouble spots all over the globe. Things are so far out of control there doesn’t seem to be any plan to deal with any of them. It is so reminiscent of the way the world was before World War II. Our country, which was perceived to be the worlds conquer over evil, at the end of that great war, has now been reduced to somewhat of a paper tiger. Our government has squandered most of its hard won credibility, home and abroad.

On this Memorial Day we honor those who gave their lives for our freedom. They died for their country doing what they were asked to do.  Their patriotism is beyond approach. Yet, though they brought those great battles to a victorious conclusion they we’re far from over. For you see, someone needed to maintain that peace. It’s like changing oil in your car or keeping a fresh coat of paint of the house. You prolong their lives and when you don’t sit on your laurels, but keep working at it every day, you prolong the peace.  I quote from the poem “In Flanders Fields”

“Take up our quarrel with the foe: to you from failing hands we throw the torch; be yours to hold it high, if ye break faith with us who die we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders fields.”

We don’t just deserve to honor our peacemakers on Memorial Day, we need to carry on and maintain the status quo, or what these brave warrior’s accomplished, become’s for naught and in some ways that would be a bigger shame then losing it in the first place, because they handed us a clear cut victory and we frittered it away. Winning the battle was the hard part and keeping the peace was the easier part but so far we have proven not to be up to that task and for that very reason we may lose, all that was accomplished-- and yes—break faith with those who died for our country.

OLD HOME TOWN BLUES

                                               

I get back to that little town where I was raised many times a year. It’s been over fifty-five years since I left home, on the day after I graduated from high school. Something happens to most of us in our last years of high school. It’s a good thing and the one thing that helps you grow up into the person you want to be. It’s that same unsettled feeling, that made people on the east cost 200 years ago pull up stakes and pack everything they owned in a Conestoga wagon and head west, To their minds then-- and to my own on graduation day, there had to be a better way.

I want to be clear; I wasn’t leaving a terrible life. Quite the opposite, I was leaving a loving family behind and it bothered me a lot. I was leaving the only home I had ever known. But like a young wolf pup, leaving the pack, I needed to find my own territory. Something told me that once I found that territory I was seeking, there would be a mate in the works and once I found that mate there would be pups and yes-- all of that came to pass. Then at some point, you start slowing down, and then you finally stop and experience fulfillment. Instead of looking forward anymore you find yourself looking backward, ruminating on all of your memories.

The other night I went back to that small town where I lived and rode down Main Street once more.  I passed Lefty’s bar, still there, where we tipped a few way back then, passed the same drug store that must be in its third or fourth generation of family owners, I passed so many places that used to be familiar but now places where only strangers to me live and work. I drove by the now empty lot, where the house I grew up in used to be, and the high school that was a grand old red brick building with a prickly hedge around it, now gone and a more modern building in its place. Down Fourth Street I passed the cold and shuttered Movie Theater, where Tom Mix and Gabby Hayes had come to life on the silver screen and where you took your girl in your teens to make out in the balcony. Passed that old Dutchman, Doctors office, I believe his name was Riechelderfer but my dad called him wrinkle diaper, because he delivered all of the babies in our family.  I passed the depot that still looked the same as always but stands strangely quiet and not the way I remembered it. The barbershop where a cut was six bits and the B.S. from Dick was free. Passed faded storefronts and run down buildings and it all seemed so sad.

I sometimes think we sense everything around us aging and changing as we go through life but we never look in the mirror. People change, town’s change, and yes we change but the one thing we don’t accept easily-- is change-- so personally we tend to ignore it. Yoko Ono said. “Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance. Fall passes and one remembers one’s reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance. I think sometimes age is meaningless except for our physical appearance and that’s because our insides don’t age as fast as our outsides do. That is unless you want them too. Lets face it men. If we all looked as good as we think we look---well let’s just say-- this would be a wild and crazy kind of world.

MOTHERS DAY

                                                MOTHERS DAY

Last weekend was Mothers day. The other day, I thought, I really have no Mother’s in my life to write about anymore. Oh, I could write about my daughters or daughter-in-law, as they have all been successful Mom’s. Or I could give a nod of the head to my friend, who raised two daughters. But just for today, I’m going to talk about a woman I once knew, who at least in my eyes, epitomizes the word Mother.

When my wife and I were raising our children, we had the opportunity to meet a woman named Mary Jo Copeland. She went to our church and lived in our town with her large family. I believe she had at least a dozen children. She seemed to be a little bit of a mystery to me because in her quiet and in intrusive way she seemed to surface in the news from time to time, working with the poor people of the inner city in Minneapolis. But In her home town she seemed to be just another of the women and mothers, or at least back then. That is until you went down to where she worked; where the truly needy seemed to be and then believe me you saw a whole new side of her.

Mary Jo did whatever she had to do to find food, clothing, medical care or shelter for needy sometimes-desperate people. If you had an addiction, and many of the people did, she could point you to treatment centers. If it was a cold winter night and you were without shelter she could take you in or find you a bed. Over the years her efforts helped thousands of people and still do today. Her husband and some of her family have now partnership with her in her origination,” Sharing and Caring Hands. “ It has grown over the years, by leaps and bound.

Mary Jo takes no Federal or State money or government help. She knows that would only bring about unnecessary strings and regulations, for how she should run her organization. She has, in the past, been harassed by local city authorities to move her building elsewhere because it didn’t seem to go with their plan, for developing the area. Her response was to ask them to visit her establishment and see for themselves her work and so far it has seemed to work.  In other words she won them over. I have a personal friend who is a retired Minneapolis Police Officer. He can’t say enough good things about Mary Jo. Neither could President Obama.

Mary Jo is a deeply religious woman and gives the credit for all of her efforts to God. She is so religious, so trusted, she has her own key to the church she belongs to, so she can go pray there in her spare time. Imagine that-- with all she does-- spare time. I grew up hearing about Mother Theresa of Calcutta. She is revered in the Catholic Church, but she was a Nun and had the support of her order and the church, and that’s not to minimize all that she accomplished. We here in Minnesota may have our own little Saint in the making and few of us know about her outside of Minneapolis

Sometimes we say the word “Mother,” and we think only of our mom or our grandmother. Or some special mom that came into our lives. But how about one that has been a mother and a provider to her family and the poor masses of Minneapolis for decades. A book has been written about Mary Jo’s extraordinary efforts. Its called “Great Love.”  You should Google it.

CANCER

A couple of years ago I was asked to speak at a fund raising event that honored those who have died from cancer. One of the most poignant moments that night for me was to see those long rows of white bags-- the luminaries-- with lighted candles in them, glowing softly in the dark. Each one of them, representing the life of someone who had fought the battle and lost it, to this disease. Those little lighted memorials brought back thoughts to me that night of a military cemetery such as Arlington or Flanders field, with all their monuments standing row on row. These weren’t war heroes, honored that night, but to many of us, they were our heroes.

I felt that I was qualified to speak on the subject for many reasons but probably the most important one was that cancer has raised its ugly head in my life to many times. I could have had my own little row of luminaries there that night. When one couples my grief, with the grief and suffering of all of the people that have lost a loved one to cancer—well it’s not possible to describe that in any language I know. 

One wonders why a nation that has put a man on the moon and is mapping the stars, can’t find the answers to controlling this terrible disease. But when you dig into the complexities of cancer you begin to find out how difficult this is. This is not one disease-- but hundreds of diseases with the same label. Couple this with the complexities of our medical research system, as they all look for that magic pill and it only becomes far more difficult then it has to be. Then pair that with the responsibility each of us has, to look out for our own bodies and it becomes even far more difficult. Yes, this isn’t a battle just being fought in hospitals and research labs. It is being fought in how we take care of ourselves, this earth and the things we are doing to it that contribute to the formation and spread of this disease.

Cancer has many side effects and one of the most formative ones is the cost of treating it. Families have suffered immeasurably, in a valiant-- but all to often-futile fight to keep someone alive. The phrase, “you can’t put a price on a human life,” has been echoed in personal injury lawsuits all around this nation, but the treatment of cancer does just that. If you are poor. Don’t get cancer. We are not that much closer to finding a cure for many cancers, then we were fifty years ago but we are miles ahead when it comes to treating, managing the disease, and prolonging lives. Albeit at a tremendous cost. A cost that has some insurance companies pulling the switch on the patient by refusing to pay and leaving those with no health care or poor health care, being condemned to die an earlier death.

I have had the experience of caring for and witnessing the deaths of two family members that I loved very much. You will always remember that last meeting with the Oncologist when they say, “There is nothing more we can do,” and yes; remember for the rest of your life. Even more, you will remember the hurt on the face of your loved one when they know that this is the end of the road. There is a list of cancer causing agents that would fill a small book. A list many of us should read and heed. For now, it seems to be one of the more important things we can do by ourselves.