Asked a year ago, I never thought Donald Trump was a serious candidate. In the week leading up to the 2016 Republican National Convention, I thought for sure the RNC would find a more suitable, qualified candidate. I'm not a registered Republican but, as a conservative, I prefer to vote along my values, ethics, and morals. No way, no how did I ever consider Trump would actually be a presidential nominee for one of our main political parties.
But it happened and he won the race, making him American President Number 45.
Rehashing his Tweets and verbal jibes would take more space than this blog post can handle, and it's really unnecessary. Reciting the various negative names and descriptions tossed at him would be a similarly daunting task and equally as pointless. This entire campaign has been one giant mudslinging contest and it's finally come to an end... kind of.
It's only the day after and I've already seen a torrent of celebrities and Average Joes alike using phrases such as #notmypresident and #nevermypresident. I hate to break it to them (well, not really), but yes he is (as opposed to "yes we can", ha ha ha). George Walker Bush was your President, just as Barack Hussein Obama was mine, and Donald John Trump is ours. Of all the celebrity Tweets, it was former N*Sync star and current D-List celebrity Lance Bass who gave what I consider a classy concession statement regarding Trump's impending Presidency:
"I totally understand why this country has voted the way it has. The people are not happy. I respect that. Let's all please come together and influence this new President in a positive way. The country is speaking. Let's respect that and try to work together. I will try to influence this new President as much as I can and support them as much as I can. I pray that they believe in equality. I pray that they make this country a place my future children with gay parents can feel safe and thrive. Let us all try to understand why this country is upset. Let's please come together and love one another. We might not agree with everything a candidate supports, but We The People can still make our voices heard and guide this new President in the right direction. We still live in the greatest country in the world. Don't forget that! We are great and we will continue to get better!! #StrongerTogether"
Bass is completely correct: people are tired of the status-quo in Washington and in our government. For the DNC to nominate Hillary Clinton, who has over four decades of scandal, corruption, dishonesty, ill-gained wealth, hypocrisy, and innocent blood on her hands, was foolish. I contend if they'd nominated anyone else, someone with even the slightest bit of integrity who Middle America could believe in, they would've kicked Trump's ass. Instead they nominated a career politician who embodies everything wrong with Washington, D.C.
Regarding President Obama, his terms have seen record amounts of mass killings on American soil; civil unrest rivaling the most heated periods of protest during the Vietnam War; skyrocketing health care costs (made worse by his own "Affordable Care" act); many Millennials have turned into greedy, selfish brats whose feelings are more important than their accomplishments and who want everything given to them; and a level of partisan politics in Washington which has caused the government to be less effective than it's been in decades.
No wonder so many are craving change!
I'll admit to be astonished on many levels, particularly the fact Trump got more votes from ethnic minorities than Mitt Romney did in 2012. After his repeated tirades against Hispanics, threats to stop Muslim immigration, and a plethora of other offensive, boorish statements aimed at women and minorities, I'm surprised he even made it to the RNC Convention, let alone the election. As a white, middle-class man in his mid-thirties, my life experiences differ radically from those who Trump targeted with his statements. While I cannot empathize with how they may feel, I certainly understand their trepidation toward his Presidency.
For those who insist on being melodramatic and threatening a move to Canada: Leave. Get out and don't come back. Conservatives (and many moderates) have fought against President Obama for eight years, preferring to stand up for themselves rather than tucking tail and running. Part of what makes America great (sorry, Trump, it already is) is people standing up for their ideals, taking part in a democratic process. Running and hiding? You might as well be French.
The fact is we'll all survive and get through this. We may even be surprised at his successes, who knows? In Michigan, we elected a non-politician, a businessman, to be our Governor. Economically, we're doing better than we had in the years prior, and Detroit has begun mounting a comeback from 40-plus years of downfall. Trump is a businessman - often successful, sometimes a failure - but he sure isn't a politician. While I don't have a high level of confidence in him, I also cannot foresee his Presidency being as apocalyptic as his most vocal detractors are predicting.
I'd suggest he'll only be a one-term President but I've been wrong about his chances from the get-go. All we can do at this point is pray for the best, expect the worst, and end up somewhere in between. It's sure to be a wild ride.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Sunday, September 11, 2016
September 11, 2001: A Remembrance (Fifteen Years Later)
The catastrophic events of September 11, 2001 will stay with me forever. It was not necessarily the day the world changed, but for my generation, it was the day our world changed. The United States was fully drawn into the fight against global terrorism and Radical Islam. Of course, even a cursory glance at the prior twenty years' history in the Middle East shows America and other Western powers had been heavily involved already, but most of us remained ignorant to that until 9-11.
The sun is shining and the skies are clear, a warm and mild near-Autumn day as I'm typing this. The weather on that Tuesday was much the same; I remember sitting at the computer at my parents' house when my Mom called me from work and told me to turn the television on... trite as this may sound, the scenes of the first plane striking the World Trade Center was surreal. Could this really be happening? We stayed on the phone for awhile and kept watching, and then a second plane hit. What the hell was going on?
The rest of my morning at home is a bit blurry now until my twenty minute drive to Grand Valley State University. The local hard rock station, 94.5 WKLQ, had Howard Stern on in the mornings. On that morning, the perverse shock jock turned into an empathetic, serious journalist who many politicians and public figures called to be heard by the masses. His studios were within eye-shot of the Twin Towers and he was on the front lines of what soon was discovered to be a declaration of war against the USA and all of Western Culture.
I didn't know my Shakespeare class was cancelled until I arrived, so I lingered on an unusually subdued campus for awhile. At 19 and in college, the world had seemed so hopeful, with so much promise. Osama Bin Laden's attack shattered a lot of illusions for kids my age and younger. This was the first time we'd really heard of Al Qaeda or the Taliban, though they'd been growing in force for decades on the other side of the world.
I remember receiving e-mails from two friends in the military - one in the Navy and the other studying to become a Naval officer at the Virginia Military Institute. Both were okay but were understandably on high alert, and that communications from them could / would be limited until further notice. I was just glad my friends were unharmed.
I went to Jumpin' Java that evening, driving by Dewey Hill and seeing Grand Haven's beautiful waterfront looking so peaceful, a gorgeous sunset happening, as if nothing had changed. I was the only customer but didn't stay long. I went home to be with my family and we watched President Bush address the nation. I still believe on that evening, he did a magnificent job communicating what was happening and what the immediate plans were. Public speaking was normally not his strong suit but on that night, he shone.
I'm not going to debate the rights and wrongs of how President Bush and his team handled the war in the ensuing months and years. It would be a disservice to the 2,996 who died that day, and the tens of thousands whose lives were shattered. I wish people remembered the rise in patriotism shown in the months following, how there was a general feeling of unity in my community and across the nation. As of 9-11-16, our nation seems at its most socially and politically divided, more so than any time since the Vietnam era. We forget we have much more in common than we think.
My parents remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated and I suspect the events of 9-11-01 will be the same for folks my age. My kids weren't even alive yet, so to them, it's literally history. In my mind's eye, much of it remains fresh and vivid. On that particular day and in the immediate aftermath, America was at its finest.
The sun is shining and the skies are clear, a warm and mild near-Autumn day as I'm typing this. The weather on that Tuesday was much the same; I remember sitting at the computer at my parents' house when my Mom called me from work and told me to turn the television on... trite as this may sound, the scenes of the first plane striking the World Trade Center was surreal. Could this really be happening? We stayed on the phone for awhile and kept watching, and then a second plane hit. What the hell was going on?
The rest of my morning at home is a bit blurry now until my twenty minute drive to Grand Valley State University. The local hard rock station, 94.5 WKLQ, had Howard Stern on in the mornings. On that morning, the perverse shock jock turned into an empathetic, serious journalist who many politicians and public figures called to be heard by the masses. His studios were within eye-shot of the Twin Towers and he was on the front lines of what soon was discovered to be a declaration of war against the USA and all of Western Culture.
I didn't know my Shakespeare class was cancelled until I arrived, so I lingered on an unusually subdued campus for awhile. At 19 and in college, the world had seemed so hopeful, with so much promise. Osama Bin Laden's attack shattered a lot of illusions for kids my age and younger. This was the first time we'd really heard of Al Qaeda or the Taliban, though they'd been growing in force for decades on the other side of the world.
I remember receiving e-mails from two friends in the military - one in the Navy and the other studying to become a Naval officer at the Virginia Military Institute. Both were okay but were understandably on high alert, and that communications from them could / would be limited until further notice. I was just glad my friends were unharmed.
I went to Jumpin' Java that evening, driving by Dewey Hill and seeing Grand Haven's beautiful waterfront looking so peaceful, a gorgeous sunset happening, as if nothing had changed. I was the only customer but didn't stay long. I went home to be with my family and we watched President Bush address the nation. I still believe on that evening, he did a magnificent job communicating what was happening and what the immediate plans were. Public speaking was normally not his strong suit but on that night, he shone.
I'm not going to debate the rights and wrongs of how President Bush and his team handled the war in the ensuing months and years. It would be a disservice to the 2,996 who died that day, and the tens of thousands whose lives were shattered. I wish people remembered the rise in patriotism shown in the months following, how there was a general feeling of unity in my community and across the nation. As of 9-11-16, our nation seems at its most socially and politically divided, more so than any time since the Vietnam era. We forget we have much more in common than we think.
My parents remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when President Kennedy was assassinated and I suspect the events of 9-11-01 will be the same for folks my age. My kids weren't even alive yet, so to them, it's literally history. In my mind's eye, much of it remains fresh and vivid. On that particular day and in the immediate aftermath, America was at its finest.
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Small Town Life
I was listening to Wilco on my iPod while sipping Sumatra blend coffee and reading a Danish murder mystery this morning while occupying a window seat at a local coffee shop.
Not a bad first sentence to set the scene, eh?
Grand Haven's downtown is comprised of all small businesses, save a few big-name national banks, and Jumpin' Java has been located there for fourteen years (and directly on the waterfront for a few years before that). My friends and I spent most of our time there in my late teens and early twenties and I still enjoy visiting occasionally. The owner has resisted selling out to Starbucks (we have three in town, certainly no need for more!) and has kept the place more-or-less the same after nearly two decades of ownership. It's comfortable and familiar.
Across the street is a shoe store and in between chapters of my book, I noticed a woman in her mid-fifties or so (maybe older, maybe younger - it's hard to tell these days when 60 has become the new 40, or so the sixty-year-olds say). Anyway, she was older and presumably an employee of the shoe store, and was sweeping the cobwebs away from the entry to the store, as well as the sidewalk out front. I was stricken by her attention to detail and though I have no need of an overpriced pair of sandals, if I did, I'd go there because of the employee's attention to detail.
As I neared the local Public Safety building walking home, I saw the lights of a police cruiser suddently go on. My first thought was, "Well, that can't be good," but once I got closer, I saw one of our hometown cops giving a tour of the vehicle to a family with two young children who appeared to have been walking by and gotten the officer's attention. No emergency, no problem - just positive community policing.
As of July, 2016 there were just over 11,000 residents of the City of Grand Haven. This number fluctuates by a thousand or so every few years and inflates during the summer; being a small town on the coast of Lake Michigan makes it a desirable get-away for City Folk. We are Coast Guard City U.S.A., as proclaimed officially by President Clinton in the 90s, and have a few other big local / regional events throughout the year.
My Dad emigrated in the late 70s from the distant, snow-covered tundra of Scarborough, Ontario, Canada (the east end of Toronto). He's lived here thirty-seven years but still considers himself a big city kinda guy; I can appreciate big cities. I've been to Toronto, Chicago, Detroit, Edinburgh, London (Ontario and England), and Washington D.C. Michigan's second-largest city, Grand Rapids, is about forty minutes from my house. The blending of cultures, the restaurants, shops, events, museums, and other life options far outweigh small town life (we do, however, have both a Meijer and Wal-Mart, as well as the accursed trio of Starbucks).
To me, though, what big cities lack is attention to minutiae. I could be totally off, never having spent more than a few days in a big city. But smaller towns offer a chance to appreciate the smaller, noticeable details that make up daily existence - at least on a manageable level. The cop showing lights to the kids, the woman sweeping the shop door, the fact I can walk seven blocks from my house to downtown without fear of someone bumping in to me or harassing me, is a positive attribute to living in a small town. I appreciate this kind of thing.
I have nothing against big cities or those who thrive on living there and the excitement they offer... it's just not for me.
Not a bad first sentence to set the scene, eh?
Grand Haven's downtown is comprised of all small businesses, save a few big-name national banks, and Jumpin' Java has been located there for fourteen years (and directly on the waterfront for a few years before that). My friends and I spent most of our time there in my late teens and early twenties and I still enjoy visiting occasionally. The owner has resisted selling out to Starbucks (we have three in town, certainly no need for more!) and has kept the place more-or-less the same after nearly two decades of ownership. It's comfortable and familiar.
Across the street is a shoe store and in between chapters of my book, I noticed a woman in her mid-fifties or so (maybe older, maybe younger - it's hard to tell these days when 60 has become the new 40, or so the sixty-year-olds say). Anyway, she was older and presumably an employee of the shoe store, and was sweeping the cobwebs away from the entry to the store, as well as the sidewalk out front. I was stricken by her attention to detail and though I have no need of an overpriced pair of sandals, if I did, I'd go there because of the employee's attention to detail.
As I neared the local Public Safety building walking home, I saw the lights of a police cruiser suddently go on. My first thought was, "Well, that can't be good," but once I got closer, I saw one of our hometown cops giving a tour of the vehicle to a family with two young children who appeared to have been walking by and gotten the officer's attention. No emergency, no problem - just positive community policing.
As of July, 2016 there were just over 11,000 residents of the City of Grand Haven. This number fluctuates by a thousand or so every few years and inflates during the summer; being a small town on the coast of Lake Michigan makes it a desirable get-away for City Folk. We are Coast Guard City U.S.A., as proclaimed officially by President Clinton in the 90s, and have a few other big local / regional events throughout the year.
My Dad emigrated in the late 70s from the distant, snow-covered tundra of Scarborough, Ontario, Canada (the east end of Toronto). He's lived here thirty-seven years but still considers himself a big city kinda guy; I can appreciate big cities. I've been to Toronto, Chicago, Detroit, Edinburgh, London (Ontario and England), and Washington D.C. Michigan's second-largest city, Grand Rapids, is about forty minutes from my house. The blending of cultures, the restaurants, shops, events, museums, and other life options far outweigh small town life (we do, however, have both a Meijer and Wal-Mart, as well as the accursed trio of Starbucks).
To me, though, what big cities lack is attention to minutiae. I could be totally off, never having spent more than a few days in a big city. But smaller towns offer a chance to appreciate the smaller, noticeable details that make up daily existence - at least on a manageable level. The cop showing lights to the kids, the woman sweeping the shop door, the fact I can walk seven blocks from my house to downtown without fear of someone bumping in to me or harassing me, is a positive attribute to living in a small town. I appreciate this kind of thing.
I have nothing against big cities or those who thrive on living there and the excitement they offer... it's just not for me.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
One in Four
My wife suffered a miscarriage last fall. Last week - the first full week of June, 2016 - is when our baby would've been born. It's been an emotionally tough time lately.
We only had our baby for a week; we found out she was pregnant and she lost the baby just over a week later. It may not seem like much to some and it certainly wasn't a long time. But something we created, a human life, existed on this planet. Some people around us may have forgotten, and others may not want to bring it up because it's a sad and uncomfortable subject.
I firmly believe life begins at the moment of conception. This has nothing to do with the Catholic Church telling me so, but it is one of the many reasons I belong to the Church. It has to do with morals, a conscious belief that just because something hasn't taken its first independent breath doesn't mean a life doesn't exist. It absolutely does.
The pregnancy was a surprise, unplanned but not unwelcome... after the initial shock wore off. At first I was terrified and she was quite nervous, too. Our family & friends were supportive and the kids looked forward to it. We assured them that the love we had for them would not be affected by a new baby. We even posted a picture with our shoes and birth dates along with a pair of little tiny shoes drawn in chalk with the expected arrival date.
She knew something was wrong the next week and we spent a lot of time in the hospital. On the Friday when it was confirmed, when she called me at work to tell me the miscarriage had really happened, I rushed home from work and we spent a tear-filled afternoon holding each other, not saying much but comforting one another. It was one of the saddest, emotionally painful days of my life. My wife - a woman who knew from an early age she was meant to have kids and is the best Mom in the world to the ones we have - was robbed of another chance.
In the aftermath, the weeks immediately following, we were both on edge and communication between us was almost nil. Finally we confessed that we both held ourselves to blame, that there must've been something wrong with ourselves and our DNA, but that wasn't really the case. A miscarriage is nature's way of saying something was wrong and the baby wasn't meant to be and we know that. We also know that a soul, despite being unborn, is in Heaven and we both hope to meet her one day (yes, we both felt it would've been a little girl).
For a few weeks afterward I said hello to her out there in the sky as I was driving to work. I occasionally still do when I'm driving, or sitting out on the deck, or the thought of last Fall comes to mind... it's tough. But I wouldn't want to forget it, either.
So why am I writing about this subject? Because I need to, for me. Because we found out that one in four pregnancies end in a miscarriage. Some women may not even realize they've had one, and some have many and suffer over and over the same emotional heartbreak my wife did. I can't fathom the hurt they must feel and my heart & prayers go out to them all. We found out some women in our lives had them and never shared their story with us until we, too, had gone through it.
You may also be wondering why I'm using the term "we" here. I didn't suffer the physical loss, or the hormonal shifts afterward, or the postpartum depression. But as a man who fathered a child I'll never get to meet, it still cut me deeply, both in losing the child and seeing my wife - my soulmate - hurt like she did. I love her and when she's hurting, I'm hurting.
I'll end by saying this to those who've suffered this: you're not alone. It hurts like hell and things may never be quite the same, but you will be okay. I promise.
We only had our baby for a week; we found out she was pregnant and she lost the baby just over a week later. It may not seem like much to some and it certainly wasn't a long time. But something we created, a human life, existed on this planet. Some people around us may have forgotten, and others may not want to bring it up because it's a sad and uncomfortable subject.
I firmly believe life begins at the moment of conception. This has nothing to do with the Catholic Church telling me so, but it is one of the many reasons I belong to the Church. It has to do with morals, a conscious belief that just because something hasn't taken its first independent breath doesn't mean a life doesn't exist. It absolutely does.
The pregnancy was a surprise, unplanned but not unwelcome... after the initial shock wore off. At first I was terrified and she was quite nervous, too. Our family & friends were supportive and the kids looked forward to it. We assured them that the love we had for them would not be affected by a new baby. We even posted a picture with our shoes and birth dates along with a pair of little tiny shoes drawn in chalk with the expected arrival date.
She knew something was wrong the next week and we spent a lot of time in the hospital. On the Friday when it was confirmed, when she called me at work to tell me the miscarriage had really happened, I rushed home from work and we spent a tear-filled afternoon holding each other, not saying much but comforting one another. It was one of the saddest, emotionally painful days of my life. My wife - a woman who knew from an early age she was meant to have kids and is the best Mom in the world to the ones we have - was robbed of another chance.
In the aftermath, the weeks immediately following, we were both on edge and communication between us was almost nil. Finally we confessed that we both held ourselves to blame, that there must've been something wrong with ourselves and our DNA, but that wasn't really the case. A miscarriage is nature's way of saying something was wrong and the baby wasn't meant to be and we know that. We also know that a soul, despite being unborn, is in Heaven and we both hope to meet her one day (yes, we both felt it would've been a little girl).
For a few weeks afterward I said hello to her out there in the sky as I was driving to work. I occasionally still do when I'm driving, or sitting out on the deck, or the thought of last Fall comes to mind... it's tough. But I wouldn't want to forget it, either.
So why am I writing about this subject? Because I need to, for me. Because we found out that one in four pregnancies end in a miscarriage. Some women may not even realize they've had one, and some have many and suffer over and over the same emotional heartbreak my wife did. I can't fathom the hurt they must feel and my heart & prayers go out to them all. We found out some women in our lives had them and never shared their story with us until we, too, had gone through it.
You may also be wondering why I'm using the term "we" here. I didn't suffer the physical loss, or the hormonal shifts afterward, or the postpartum depression. But as a man who fathered a child I'll never get to meet, it still cut me deeply, both in losing the child and seeing my wife - my soulmate - hurt like she did. I love her and when she's hurting, I'm hurting.
I'll end by saying this to those who've suffered this: you're not alone. It hurts like hell and things may never be quite the same, but you will be okay. I promise.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
My Faith: In the Beginning
I'm Catholic and proud to be so.
I wasn't raised Catholic; I wasn't raised in any Christian church though I was baptized Lutheran at four years old. I still remember it - all of the cousins were baptized at St. John's Lutheran church in Grand Haven, MI. I was little and to this day don't know exactly why that particular church was chosen. My grandmother's family was part of the Reformed church but my parents were married at St. John's, but why none of the others older than me had been baptized, I have no idea.
Grand Haven has more churches per square mile than most small communities and I tried a few in high school. The Baptist church in particular scared me because of how judgmental it was and how they believed only those who saw things exactly as they did were Heaven-bound. Another church was teaching its congregation not to fraternize with anyone who didn't attend its services because it was right, andanyone else would lead its members to Hell. Yes, I'm serious about that.
Pretty heavy stuff and certainly uncomfortable for me.
Then at age twenty, a friend of mine began RCIA (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults) classes through the local (and only) Catholic church in Grand Haven. Because of the Dutch Protestant heritage, there was a hefty anti-Catholic sentiment in our town. Even my own mother once made a comment about brain-washing... then again, the only times she's stepped foot in any church in the last forty-plus years is for weddings and funerals.
He invited me to come to these classes and I said yes. I don't know why, other than curiosity to find out more about a church and faith that held such mystery to me. I'd never been much for organized religion of any kind (especially given the experiences above), and was bordering on agnosticism...
Anyway, I began attending informational classes and eventually attended Mass for the first time in November 2002. I sat off to the side of the congregation and didn't participate much, but something happened to me that I'd never experienced before: I felt comfortable. I felt at home. A light was lit inside me.
I attended every RCIA class and dove into my new-found faith with fervor. I read books, watched documentaries, attended Mass, befriended older members of the church to find out about their personal histories, and generally took to the Catholic faith like a fish to water.
The people of the church were friendly, the staff was helpful, and the priest - Father Bill Langlois, of whom I've written about many times - was & remains one of the most inspirational people in my life. Catholic or not, he treats everyone with respect and dignity, with open arms and welcomes them as friends. While he would have obvious disagreements with other Christian denominations (and faiths), he never condemns them or accuses their church leaders of leading them astray or toward eternal damnation. That is an example we should all aspire to.
(My best friend is an agnostic and we've had many positive discussions about church, faith, and what it takes to be a good person. I disagree with him but don't judge him)
I was confirmed into the Catholic Church on Easter, 2003. It stands as one of the few moments when my life was flooded with pure joy and I'll never forget the feeling of peace, of happiness, that filled my soul that night. Everyone I knew recognized the difference in me: I was filled with the Holy Spirit, even if that's not how they felt. And they were happy for me, including my Mom.
For many people, including a lot of Catholics themselves, reconciling the Church's bloody past (the Inquisitions, anyone?) and modern-day shame (abuse scandals) is hard. I actually joined the church at the height of that scandal and to this day, I'm certain the abusive priests and those who covered it up have a special place in Hell waiting for them. There's no defending those who hurt children.
But personally, I see it like this: the Church is imperfect and always will be because it is lead by Man. The faith - that Christ is my Savior and I will reach Heaven only through Him - is perfect. I don't agree with every decision or detail about the Church but its morals and mine are on the same wavelength. That isn't affected by any priest or Pope (though Pope Francis is certainly one of the better leaders our Church has seen in a long time).
I wasn't raised Catholic; I wasn't raised in any Christian church though I was baptized Lutheran at four years old. I still remember it - all of the cousins were baptized at St. John's Lutheran church in Grand Haven, MI. I was little and to this day don't know exactly why that particular church was chosen. My grandmother's family was part of the Reformed church but my parents were married at St. John's, but why none of the others older than me had been baptized, I have no idea.
Grand Haven has more churches per square mile than most small communities and I tried a few in high school. The Baptist church in particular scared me because of how judgmental it was and how they believed only those who saw things exactly as they did were Heaven-bound. Another church was teaching its congregation not to fraternize with anyone who didn't attend its services because it was right, andanyone else would lead its members to Hell. Yes, I'm serious about that.
Pretty heavy stuff and certainly uncomfortable for me.
Then at age twenty, a friend of mine began RCIA (Right of Christian Initiation for Adults) classes through the local (and only) Catholic church in Grand Haven. Because of the Dutch Protestant heritage, there was a hefty anti-Catholic sentiment in our town. Even my own mother once made a comment about brain-washing... then again, the only times she's stepped foot in any church in the last forty-plus years is for weddings and funerals.
He invited me to come to these classes and I said yes. I don't know why, other than curiosity to find out more about a church and faith that held such mystery to me. I'd never been much for organized religion of any kind (especially given the experiences above), and was bordering on agnosticism...
Anyway, I began attending informational classes and eventually attended Mass for the first time in November 2002. I sat off to the side of the congregation and didn't participate much, but something happened to me that I'd never experienced before: I felt comfortable. I felt at home. A light was lit inside me.
I attended every RCIA class and dove into my new-found faith with fervor. I read books, watched documentaries, attended Mass, befriended older members of the church to find out about their personal histories, and generally took to the Catholic faith like a fish to water.
The people of the church were friendly, the staff was helpful, and the priest - Father Bill Langlois, of whom I've written about many times - was & remains one of the most inspirational people in my life. Catholic or not, he treats everyone with respect and dignity, with open arms and welcomes them as friends. While he would have obvious disagreements with other Christian denominations (and faiths), he never condemns them or accuses their church leaders of leading them astray or toward eternal damnation. That is an example we should all aspire to.
(My best friend is an agnostic and we've had many positive discussions about church, faith, and what it takes to be a good person. I disagree with him but don't judge him)
I was confirmed into the Catholic Church on Easter, 2003. It stands as one of the few moments when my life was flooded with pure joy and I'll never forget the feeling of peace, of happiness, that filled my soul that night. Everyone I knew recognized the difference in me: I was filled with the Holy Spirit, even if that's not how they felt. And they were happy for me, including my Mom.
For many people, including a lot of Catholics themselves, reconciling the Church's bloody past (the Inquisitions, anyone?) and modern-day shame (abuse scandals) is hard. I actually joined the church at the height of that scandal and to this day, I'm certain the abusive priests and those who covered it up have a special place in Hell waiting for them. There's no defending those who hurt children.
But personally, I see it like this: the Church is imperfect and always will be because it is lead by Man. The faith - that Christ is my Savior and I will reach Heaven only through Him - is perfect. I don't agree with every decision or detail about the Church but its morals and mine are on the same wavelength. That isn't affected by any priest or Pope (though Pope Francis is certainly one of the better leaders our Church has seen in a long time).
Sunday, April 17, 2016
America the Exceptional, Part Three
Our last full day in Maryland was my favorite. My morning was spent with Joe Bussard, collector and keeper of the rarest and most valuable 78 rpm records available. One fellow collector remarked of him, "Joe has records even God doesn't know exist." That may be a slight exaggeration but not by much. You can read about that part of my adventure here:
http://brettbilledeau.blogspot.com/2016/04/meeting-joe-bussard-king-of-78rpm.html
It was actually painful to part ways with him because there was sooooo much more to hear. I did, though, and met my family for lunch, followed by a trip to the most aesthetically pleasing scenery of our journey: Harper's Ferry, West Virginia.
My father-in-law is a Civil War buff but hadn't been there. Thomas Jefferson stood on the banks of the Shenandoah River with the Appalachian Mountains towering above and proclaimed its beauty, and after visiting it was easy to understand why. Pictures don't begin to do it justice.
Historically, the most (in)famous moment at Harper's Ferry occurred in 1859 when slave abolitionist John Brown lead a thirty-six hour siege of the town's armory in hopes of a rebellion. It failed miserably, most of his men died, and he was taken into custody by Col. Robert E. Lee. Southerners didn't take kindly to his kind around there back then.
The town is now somewhat recreated to look like it did then, designed to give tourists a sense of history. What got to me was the stunning beauty, breathing in the mountain air, and standing on a pre-Civil War historical location. You'd think D.C. or Gettysburg would've elicited the most powerful emotions, but nature itself overwhelmed me the most.
Our trip home took us back through the mountains where it was a balmy twenty-three degrees out. A light snow dusted the countryside and although I was happy to be in a warm car, it was still gorgeous.
I am excited at returning to some of the spots we saw and further exploring our great nation. I feel grateful to have been there, for the experiences.
http://brettbilledeau.blogspot.com/2016/04/meeting-joe-bussard-king-of-78rpm.html
It was actually painful to part ways with him because there was sooooo much more to hear. I did, though, and met my family for lunch, followed by a trip to the most aesthetically pleasing scenery of our journey: Harper's Ferry, West Virginia.
My father-in-law is a Civil War buff but hadn't been there. Thomas Jefferson stood on the banks of the Shenandoah River with the Appalachian Mountains towering above and proclaimed its beauty, and after visiting it was easy to understand why. Pictures don't begin to do it justice.
Historically, the most (in)famous moment at Harper's Ferry occurred in 1859 when slave abolitionist John Brown lead a thirty-six hour siege of the town's armory in hopes of a rebellion. It failed miserably, most of his men died, and he was taken into custody by Col. Robert E. Lee. Southerners didn't take kindly to his kind around there back then.
The town is now somewhat recreated to look like it did then, designed to give tourists a sense of history. What got to me was the stunning beauty, breathing in the mountain air, and standing on a pre-Civil War historical location. You'd think D.C. or Gettysburg would've elicited the most powerful emotions, but nature itself overwhelmed me the most.
Our trip home took us back through the mountains where it was a balmy twenty-three degrees out. A light snow dusted the countryside and although I was happy to be in a warm car, it was still gorgeous.
I am excited at returning to some of the spots we saw and further exploring our great nation. I feel grateful to have been there, for the experiences.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
America the Exceptional, Part Two
On what was the first full family vacation my wife, kids and I have actually taken (aside from day trips or overnight to Chicago or Detroit), we had the opportunity to visit several historic sites not far from her family's home in Maryland. I spoke of Washington, D.C. in a previous post.
The massive size of the Gettysburg battle fields cannot be accurately described in words or even photos. Only Ken Burns' 1990 masterful documentary The Civil War does it justice. It's a place we learn about from the time we're in elementary school, its importance in the Civil War and place in American history stressed to us.
We lunched at Sweney's Tavern, part of the Farnsworth Inn, one of the most haunted places in town. My daughter, her aunt, and her grandpa could swear they felt some supernatural juju happening! While I didn't feel it, I enjoyed the atmosphere, complete with costumes from the film Gettysburg adorning the walls, as well as the fish & chips I had for lunch.
What I didn't care for was the narrow selection of tourist-trap stores along the main drag. Once we'd seen a couple, we'd seen them all, but some of the ladies in our group wanted to hit each one before we got to the battlefield. C'est la vie, eh?
The first spot on the fields we finally made it to was the Eisenhower farm area with its massive observation deck along Confederate Avenue. One can get an almost complete panoramic view of the area from its top. From there the battlefields take shape in the viewer's eye.
We didn't get out of the vehicle frequently due to cold and winds, but we arrived at Little Round Top, one of the most famous spots on the battlefield and where some of the heaviest casualties of the war were suffered. I felt the weight of history on me when I ran my hands over the names of the dead inscribed upon monument walls.
From there we proceeded to Devil's Den, appropriately named given the savagery of the Gettysburg battles. We climbed on the rocks and snapped a few photos, and it hit me how terrified the Confederate soldiers must've been, rushing from there to Little Round Top for slaughter. Just because they fought for the South doesn't mean we cannot mourn their loss. They were still Americans, after all.
The final spot before heading home was the cemetery to see the spot where President Lincoln gave his historic address. There were several busloads of tourists there and I'll admit it took away from the visit for me. The family enjoyed it, though, and the kids can say they've been there. I myself would love to go back on a quiet afternoon and be able to take in the aura, so maybe next time.
Our great nation is full of historical spots, many of them within a day's drive. Gettysburg is something anyone in the Midwest or East Coast should see if you get a chance. It remains a stoic reminder of the division we once faced and of the bravery of untold men and women to fight and die for their beliefs.
The massive size of the Gettysburg battle fields cannot be accurately described in words or even photos. Only Ken Burns' 1990 masterful documentary The Civil War does it justice. It's a place we learn about from the time we're in elementary school, its importance in the Civil War and place in American history stressed to us.
We lunched at Sweney's Tavern, part of the Farnsworth Inn, one of the most haunted places in town. My daughter, her aunt, and her grandpa could swear they felt some supernatural juju happening! While I didn't feel it, I enjoyed the atmosphere, complete with costumes from the film Gettysburg adorning the walls, as well as the fish & chips I had for lunch.
What I didn't care for was the narrow selection of tourist-trap stores along the main drag. Once we'd seen a couple, we'd seen them all, but some of the ladies in our group wanted to hit each one before we got to the battlefield. C'est la vie, eh?
The first spot on the fields we finally made it to was the Eisenhower farm area with its massive observation deck along Confederate Avenue. One can get an almost complete panoramic view of the area from its top. From there the battlefields take shape in the viewer's eye.
We didn't get out of the vehicle frequently due to cold and winds, but we arrived at Little Round Top, one of the most famous spots on the battlefield and where some of the heaviest casualties of the war were suffered. I felt the weight of history on me when I ran my hands over the names of the dead inscribed upon monument walls.
From there we proceeded to Devil's Den, appropriately named given the savagery of the Gettysburg battles. We climbed on the rocks and snapped a few photos, and it hit me how terrified the Confederate soldiers must've been, rushing from there to Little Round Top for slaughter. Just because they fought for the South doesn't mean we cannot mourn their loss. They were still Americans, after all.
The final spot before heading home was the cemetery to see the spot where President Lincoln gave his historic address. There were several busloads of tourists there and I'll admit it took away from the visit for me. The family enjoyed it, though, and the kids can say they've been there. I myself would love to go back on a quiet afternoon and be able to take in the aura, so maybe next time.
Our great nation is full of historical spots, many of them within a day's drive. Gettysburg is something anyone in the Midwest or East Coast should see if you get a chance. It remains a stoic reminder of the division we once faced and of the bravery of untold men and women to fight and die for their beliefs.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
America the Exceptional, Part One
On a recent trip to Maryland, my family and I had the opportunity to go sight seeing (read: do touristy things) on the East Coast, as well as take in the sights of some of America's prettiest country.
For those who've traveled the Ohio Turnpike, you know just what a barren, desolate part of the Midwest it is: nothing but flatlands and truck stops for 90% of the ride. The truck stops are admittedly superior to Michigan's but they're the only relief from an otherwise mind-numbing ride. All that changed when we entered Pennsylvania... my goodness, the scenery was beautiful: Rolling green hills, blue skies, and a longer-yet-aesthetically-pleasing drive lay ahead. I get why the Amish cherish it so!
We took the Metro from Shady Grove, MD to Washington, D.C. A light rain greeted us but soon abated, allowing the sun to shine. We began our all-too-brief visit at the Washington Monument, the sheer height of which makes you feel the size of an ant. It was awe-inspiring, I admit. The Lincoln Memorial offers a splendid view of the mall, the Reflection Pond, and the Capital building beyond. To see Honest Abe's likeness and words keeping watch over the capital inspires hope.
What I appreciated most, though, were the World War II and Korean War Memorials. My grandfather, four of his brothers, my great-uncle Bill, and other family fought in WWII and I was proud to pay homage with a visit. A dear friend of my family's was in Korea; he's been gone ten years now but I still remember him as if we talked yesterday. I couldn't help but feel gratitude.
Me at the WWII Memorial - Atlantic Side
We hit the National Air & Space Museum, part of the Smithsonian collective, to the thrill of my kids. The Wright Bros.' plane, Amelia Earhart's belongings, the Apollo 11 cone, and so much more fascinated them, and I liked it, too. You could spend all day there and not see it all. To see everything we'd have wanted, we'd easily need a week to cover all the museums and attractions.
What struck me about the tourist area of D.C. was the diversity of visitors. My family is made up of white, Christian Midwesterners, and we stood side-by-side with a variety of folks from Southeast Asia (particularly at the Korean Memorial), Middle Eastern Muslims, and people of all races, creeds, and nationalities. We were all there to take in the history and reverence in the capital of what I truly believe is still the greatest nation on Earth. Even if you (or they) don't agree, one cannot help but respect the effort put in to making America's history living and vibrant to visitors.
For those who've traveled the Ohio Turnpike, you know just what a barren, desolate part of the Midwest it is: nothing but flatlands and truck stops for 90% of the ride. The truck stops are admittedly superior to Michigan's but they're the only relief from an otherwise mind-numbing ride. All that changed when we entered Pennsylvania... my goodness, the scenery was beautiful: Rolling green hills, blue skies, and a longer-yet-aesthetically-pleasing drive lay ahead. I get why the Amish cherish it so!
We took the Metro from Shady Grove, MD to Washington, D.C. A light rain greeted us but soon abated, allowing the sun to shine. We began our all-too-brief visit at the Washington Monument, the sheer height of which makes you feel the size of an ant. It was awe-inspiring, I admit. The Lincoln Memorial offers a splendid view of the mall, the Reflection Pond, and the Capital building beyond. To see Honest Abe's likeness and words keeping watch over the capital inspires hope.
What I appreciated most, though, were the World War II and Korean War Memorials. My grandfather, four of his brothers, my great-uncle Bill, and other family fought in WWII and I was proud to pay homage with a visit. A dear friend of my family's was in Korea; he's been gone ten years now but I still remember him as if we talked yesterday. I couldn't help but feel gratitude.
Me at the WWII Memorial - Atlantic Side
We hit the National Air & Space Museum, part of the Smithsonian collective, to the thrill of my kids. The Wright Bros.' plane, Amelia Earhart's belongings, the Apollo 11 cone, and so much more fascinated them, and I liked it, too. You could spend all day there and not see it all. To see everything we'd have wanted, we'd easily need a week to cover all the museums and attractions.
What struck me about the tourist area of D.C. was the diversity of visitors. My family is made up of white, Christian Midwesterners, and we stood side-by-side with a variety of folks from Southeast Asia (particularly at the Korean Memorial), Middle Eastern Muslims, and people of all races, creeds, and nationalities. We were all there to take in the history and reverence in the capital of what I truly believe is still the greatest nation on Earth. Even if you (or they) don't agree, one cannot help but respect the effort put in to making America's history living and vibrant to visitors.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
And then there were... still too many.
At last, the 2016 GOP field is whittling itself down: Huckabee and Santorum represented the lunatic fringe, the screwballs who thought that some philandering county clerk from Kentucky somehow represented the moral authority. Chris Christie was a ball of fire but blazed out quickly, Carly Fiorina had far too much corporate baggage, Rand Paul could never live up to his father's rebel standards... surely I'm forgetting someone? Who knows.
What are we left with, though? Are there really any candidates who are not only for a traditional conservative belief system but still manage to garner support from the infamous Mushball Middle? The tangerine-skinned real-estate mogul is leading the polls in the Republican field but is far too uncouth and opinionated to capture the hearts of most Americans. Besides, he donated to Hillary Clinton's Senate campaign and voted for Obama. Conservative? Nope - fraud.
Little Marco Rubio is an alright guy but I believe he suffers from the same symptom that is also one of Barry Obama's biggest downfalls: inexperience. He's also not quick on his feet during speeches, leading many (including myself) to wonder if he could go toe-to-toe with political and international foes. Ohio's Governor Kasich has done a decent job in his state as a now two-term governor and may yet provide a few surprises but so far hasn't inspired too much widespread support outside of New Hampshire.
Then there's George and Barbara's son John Ellis Bush - Jeb to the rest of us. Years ago I thought the GOP ran the wrong brother for president. With his record of being tough on crime and fiscally conservative, yet appealing to Latino voters and everyday folk, Florida's Governor seemed to, well, have it more together than George W. Bush. Now, a decade and a half later, his campaign (one that has failed to garner much enthusiasm) seems stalled. He's practical, comparatively soft spoken, and almost seems uncomfortable in the spotlight... he's the anti-Trump.
Finally we arrive in the Lonestar State with a rogue Canadian-born Cuban-American with a cocksure demeanor and a way of irritating both Liberals and some within his own party. Rafael Edward Cruz is probably the most dyed-in-the-wool Conservative candidate. He seems to have a distinct vision for where he wants to take America and doesn't give a darn if you like him or not. And that may be the problem: while he's got the decency to not play the populist vote (ahem, Oompa Loompa from New York, we're looking at you), he has thus far proven to be more polarizing than most. Yet, I kinda like the guy...
None of these choices are ideal, yet they still seem more respectable that a pseudo-feminist who voted for the Iraq War and is funded by the Top One Percent, yet claims to be for "the little guy" out there. Oh, and she got people slaughtered in Libya and didn't give a damn. Anyone who thinks Hillary Clinton cares about anyone but herself is foolishly misguided (at best). Hillary Clinton ought to be a synonym for evil in the dictionary.
And Bern? Well, there's a man whose leadership on Veteran's Affairs lead to the suffering (and in some cases, deaths) of our brave men and women returning from the Middle East in V.A. facilities, who has never had one bill passed during decades in the Senate, and who believes in pitting the haves and have-nots against one another in what would become all-out Class Warfare under his presidency. He has more integrity than Hillary, but so did Pol Pot, Idi Amin, and Joseph Stalin. If anyone wants to see our country go for broke, he's the guy to get us there.
If ever there was a case of being caught between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, the 2016 election is turning out to be that time.
What are we left with, though? Are there really any candidates who are not only for a traditional conservative belief system but still manage to garner support from the infamous Mushball Middle? The tangerine-skinned real-estate mogul is leading the polls in the Republican field but is far too uncouth and opinionated to capture the hearts of most Americans. Besides, he donated to Hillary Clinton's Senate campaign and voted for Obama. Conservative? Nope - fraud.
Little Marco Rubio is an alright guy but I believe he suffers from the same symptom that is also one of Barry Obama's biggest downfalls: inexperience. He's also not quick on his feet during speeches, leading many (including myself) to wonder if he could go toe-to-toe with political and international foes. Ohio's Governor Kasich has done a decent job in his state as a now two-term governor and may yet provide a few surprises but so far hasn't inspired too much widespread support outside of New Hampshire.
Then there's George and Barbara's son John Ellis Bush - Jeb to the rest of us. Years ago I thought the GOP ran the wrong brother for president. With his record of being tough on crime and fiscally conservative, yet appealing to Latino voters and everyday folk, Florida's Governor seemed to, well, have it more together than George W. Bush. Now, a decade and a half later, his campaign (one that has failed to garner much enthusiasm) seems stalled. He's practical, comparatively soft spoken, and almost seems uncomfortable in the spotlight... he's the anti-Trump.
Finally we arrive in the Lonestar State with a rogue Canadian-born Cuban-American with a cocksure demeanor and a way of irritating both Liberals and some within his own party. Rafael Edward Cruz is probably the most dyed-in-the-wool Conservative candidate. He seems to have a distinct vision for where he wants to take America and doesn't give a darn if you like him or not. And that may be the problem: while he's got the decency to not play the populist vote (ahem, Oompa Loompa from New York, we're looking at you), he has thus far proven to be more polarizing than most. Yet, I kinda like the guy...
None of these choices are ideal, yet they still seem more respectable that a pseudo-feminist who voted for the Iraq War and is funded by the Top One Percent, yet claims to be for "the little guy" out there. Oh, and she got people slaughtered in Libya and didn't give a damn. Anyone who thinks Hillary Clinton cares about anyone but herself is foolishly misguided (at best). Hillary Clinton ought to be a synonym for evil in the dictionary.
And Bern? Well, there's a man whose leadership on Veteran's Affairs lead to the suffering (and in some cases, deaths) of our brave men and women returning from the Middle East in V.A. facilities, who has never had one bill passed during decades in the Senate, and who believes in pitting the haves and have-nots against one another in what would become all-out Class Warfare under his presidency. He has more integrity than Hillary, but so did Pol Pot, Idi Amin, and Joseph Stalin. If anyone wants to see our country go for broke, he's the guy to get us there.
If ever there was a case of being caught between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, the 2016 election is turning out to be that time.
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