"Nothing quite brings out the zest for life in a person like the thought of their impending death." Jhonen Vasquez
This morning when the man said it, it struck me as very odd coming from him. Looking back on the occasion, it strikes me as even more odd. I was at a ribbon cutting for a new hospice facility in our community. The executive director was addressing the crowd who had come to celebrate their grand opening. As he was thanking everyone for coming and then telling us about his facility, he said "And then the family has to face the unfortunate event of death." "Unfortunate?" Death is "unfortunate?" Death is inevitable, but it's certainly not "unfortunate." How "unfortunate" would it be if human beings didn't die? People would be walking over each other several miles high. And even if you fell to the ground from the top of the heap, you wouldn't die. And would we grow thousands of years old? Death is "unfortunate?"
My wife and I live in Georgia and our son and daughter-in-law live in California. Because of this distance when we go to visit them, we choose to fly. I don't know if all airlines offer this feature, but Delta makes Flight Tracker available for its passengers. Even while watching a movie or listening to music, I consult Flight Tracker quite often. There are several fields to tracker. One of them displays the image of a plane traveling on an arc across the United States. This plane indicates where we are relative to the ground. The map below the plane includes the names of significant cities along the way. But the field I view most often is the one that gives all the statistics of the flight. This information includes Time at Origin and Time at Destination. It includes Tailwind and Ground Speed. There I find the Altitude and Outside Temperature. Flight tracker offers other information, but the information that means the most to me is Time to Arrival.
This week I was looking at the Time to Arrival and I thought, "If there was a way for me to know the date of my death, would I find out?" In some ways I think it would be good to know. We all know of people approaching death who talk about how vivid everything has become. How they hear everything and see everything in a whole new light. They talk about how they treasure every second of the life they have left to live. We could all learn from these people.
And is death a time of arrival or is it a time of departure? None of us knows. In the Bible Belt where I live, millions of people are quite sure that there is a literal, physical Heaven and a literal, physical hell. And that one or the other is our eternal destiny. Is this true? I don't know for sure. Although people have claimed to have come back from the dead in near-death experiences and report finding Heaven, that's their experience and not mine. I've never died. I watched a YouTube video a while back on the concept of total annihilation at death. This concept espouses that when we die we are dead as a door nail. That life does not survive death in any form. As horrible as that thought was to me, she said something about annihilation that has stuck with me. After introducing the viewer to the concept that everything goes totally dark at death, she said, "Don't you find that freeing?" And as much as I don't like the idea of never seeing the people I love in the hereafter, I think I understand what she's saying. Do any of us really want to spend all eternity in a perpetual family reunion? Many verses in the Bible suggest an eternal Heaven. The Apostle Paul in particular talks of such a place. As "freeing" is the thought of annihilation, the thought of eternal bliss seems much more appealing to me.
I've thought about it. Even if I had the option of finding out, I don't want to know the time of my death. I've decided that just the awareness of the possibility of death, the inevitability of death, is good enough for me. And about that Flight Tracker, at 30,000 feet the outside temperature was minus 38 degrees Fahrenheit. I hope that the "Altitude" and "Outside Temperature" are flight statistics I never need to use.
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Monday, June 11, 2018
The T-shirt and Flip Flop Gang
Our kindergarten and elementary school teachers encouraged us to call each other by our given names and to not make up names for each other, especially names that segregate, make fun and hurt.
I know someone who served tables several years before she found another job. Over several years she rose in the ranks of her company until she became a vice president. Although she has had no desire to wait tables again, she has never forgotten some of the people she met and some of the lessons she learned. I have not forgotten a few of them as well. She spoke often of the literal and emotional dialogue that happens between a server and her customers. She talked about the delicate balance between giving too little or too much attention. On this occasion in her restaurant with two nicely dressed, middle aged patrons as her customers, all of this was perfect. Besides the professional enjoyment, as a bonus, such an occurrence usually results in an extra nice gratuity. And then disaster struck in the form of a conversation started about a neighboring restaurant. My friend, attempting to be a part of the conversation said, "That restaurant used to be a special place to eat. Now they mostly cater to the t-shirt and flip flop gang." When she said it, she told me that something happened in the room. The couple was done with their dinner and asked for their check. As my friend carefully approached the silent table, she looked down and saw the inevitable. He, of course, was wearing flip flops. She told me, "I wanted to say, 'not those nice flip flops that go ever the foot, but the kind with the thong that goes between your toes. Yours are very nice!' ". But it was too late to say anything; the damage was done. They paid and left without leaving a tip.
In July of 1977, one month before my wife and I left for graduate school in Louisville, Kentucky, I had to deal with a very painful ingrown toenail. The decision was made to totally remove the nail so that it wouldn't grow back. At that time, in the dark ages of medicine, the surgery required an overnight stay in the hospital. The surgery went well, but the next day I had a fever of 105. I was very sick and they packed me in ice. There was some discussion that I could get much worse. Two days later when I went home, the infection that caused my problems, more than likely a staph infection, settled in my toe. The exposed toe had the appearance and consistency of cheese pizza. It was as uncomfortable as it was unsightly. Out of necessity I wore a flip flop on my left foot, the kind with the thong strap. Upon arriving at school three weeks later, I was still wearing a sock and shoe on my right foot, and a flip flop on my left. Although I wore the flip flop only three more weeks before I could wear a shoe again, for two more years at school, I heard, "Aren't you the guy with the flip flop?"
As name-calling goes, "the flip flop guy" is not all that bad. But why not "Aren't you the guy who is working his butt off and is doing well musically and academically?" "Aren't you the guy who has a part-time church job south of here where you and your wife are loved and appreciated?" "Aren't you the guy who left friends and family in Alabama to move to another state to better yourself as a person and as a musician?" "Aren't you..." nearly anything except "the flip flop guy" Wearing that flip flop was a personal necessity and not my identity.
We need to be careful of the names we call each other. Names can build up or names can cut and bring a person down. A person's name is always a good choice. If you don't know or don't remember the person's name, a friendly greeting and warm smile will work real well. don't call them anything. If you're uncomfortable with your mental lapse, just say, "Please forgive my senior moment and remind me of your name." Most people are happy to oblige. Sometimes, of course, a person has a life long nickname that has become her identity; that certainly is a good name to call her. Especially if there's some physical issue or deformity, you should refuse to make a reference to that. I can tell you by experience that several others have done that already that day.
Because of a situation with my big toe, I'm wearing a flip flop on my right foot, the nice kind that goes over my foot. I only wear it around the house, not because of potential name calling, but I don't need to wear it away from home. So what does my wife call me? Does she call me "The nice flip flop guy?"She calls me "'David", "Biggs" or "Big Dave", a name I inherited from the children in my life nearly thirty years ago. The name stuck. The children in my life still call me "Big Dave" or "BihBave", if you're two. And my son who is now three inches taller than I, will answer to "Dave" or to "Little Dave" if you'd rather. . So you can call me "David", "Biggs" or "Big Dave", but please leave my flip flops out of it. It doesn't hurt my feelings; it's just unnecessary. And besides, if you call me that, I'll never leave you a tip.
.
I know someone who served tables several years before she found another job. Over several years she rose in the ranks of her company until she became a vice president. Although she has had no desire to wait tables again, she has never forgotten some of the people she met and some of the lessons she learned. I have not forgotten a few of them as well. She spoke often of the literal and emotional dialogue that happens between a server and her customers. She talked about the delicate balance between giving too little or too much attention. On this occasion in her restaurant with two nicely dressed, middle aged patrons as her customers, all of this was perfect. Besides the professional enjoyment, as a bonus, such an occurrence usually results in an extra nice gratuity. And then disaster struck in the form of a conversation started about a neighboring restaurant. My friend, attempting to be a part of the conversation said, "That restaurant used to be a special place to eat. Now they mostly cater to the t-shirt and flip flop gang." When she said it, she told me that something happened in the room. The couple was done with their dinner and asked for their check. As my friend carefully approached the silent table, she looked down and saw the inevitable. He, of course, was wearing flip flops. She told me, "I wanted to say, 'not those nice flip flops that go ever the foot, but the kind with the thong that goes between your toes. Yours are very nice!' ". But it was too late to say anything; the damage was done. They paid and left without leaving a tip.
In July of 1977, one month before my wife and I left for graduate school in Louisville, Kentucky, I had to deal with a very painful ingrown toenail. The decision was made to totally remove the nail so that it wouldn't grow back. At that time, in the dark ages of medicine, the surgery required an overnight stay in the hospital. The surgery went well, but the next day I had a fever of 105. I was very sick and they packed me in ice. There was some discussion that I could get much worse. Two days later when I went home, the infection that caused my problems, more than likely a staph infection, settled in my toe. The exposed toe had the appearance and consistency of cheese pizza. It was as uncomfortable as it was unsightly. Out of necessity I wore a flip flop on my left foot, the kind with the thong strap. Upon arriving at school three weeks later, I was still wearing a sock and shoe on my right foot, and a flip flop on my left. Although I wore the flip flop only three more weeks before I could wear a shoe again, for two more years at school, I heard, "Aren't you the guy with the flip flop?"
As name-calling goes, "the flip flop guy" is not all that bad. But why not "Aren't you the guy who is working his butt off and is doing well musically and academically?" "Aren't you the guy who has a part-time church job south of here where you and your wife are loved and appreciated?" "Aren't you the guy who left friends and family in Alabama to move to another state to better yourself as a person and as a musician?" "Aren't you..." nearly anything except "the flip flop guy" Wearing that flip flop was a personal necessity and not my identity.
We need to be careful of the names we call each other. Names can build up or names can cut and bring a person down. A person's name is always a good choice. If you don't know or don't remember the person's name, a friendly greeting and warm smile will work real well. don't call them anything. If you're uncomfortable with your mental lapse, just say, "Please forgive my senior moment and remind me of your name." Most people are happy to oblige. Sometimes, of course, a person has a life long nickname that has become her identity; that certainly is a good name to call her. Especially if there's some physical issue or deformity, you should refuse to make a reference to that. I can tell you by experience that several others have done that already that day.
Because of a situation with my big toe, I'm wearing a flip flop on my right foot, the nice kind that goes over my foot. I only wear it around the house, not because of potential name calling, but I don't need to wear it away from home. So what does my wife call me? Does she call me "The nice flip flop guy?"She calls me "'David", "Biggs" or "Big Dave", a name I inherited from the children in my life nearly thirty years ago. The name stuck. The children in my life still call me "Big Dave" or "BihBave", if you're two. And my son who is now three inches taller than I, will answer to "Dave" or to "Little Dave" if you'd rather. . So you can call me "David", "Biggs" or "Big Dave", but please leave my flip flops out of it. It doesn't hurt my feelings; it's just unnecessary. And besides, if you call me that, I'll never leave you a tip.
.
Friday, June 8, 2018
The Price of Love and Beauty
"To be a conscious person in this world, to be aware of all the suffering and the beauty, means to have your heart broken over and over again." Sharon Salzberg
"There's thorns on the cactus tree
There's thorns on the rose.
There's thorns in the heart of me
That nobody knows." Anastasia's Eyes, Dan Fogelberg
When I first read Salzberg's words, I thought there was a mistake. How can "suffering" and "beauty" be in the same sentence? I thought beauty was the antidote for suffering. But I quickly realized that suffering can lead to beauty and beauty can lead to suffering. They are both cut from the same bolt of cloth. The sentence was true.
In April of 1997, the Hale-Bopp comet was closest to the earth. As my brother and I approached the south rim of the Grand Canyon that beautiful afternoon. I was his passenger and he was driving. It would be my second visit to the canyon and his first. He was talking to me and glancing at me to his right so he didn't see that we had arrived at the canyon. I told him to pull over. He asked me why and I said, "Just pull over." When we were safely on the side of the road, I interrupted him and said, "Look!", pointing over his shoulder to his left. His eyes immediately flooded with tears as they began to roll down his face. "Beauty". "Suffering". That night it was my turn to suffer. After setting up our camp and finding something to eat, we walked to the edge of the Grand Canyon at nearly midnight. Although it was dark, the comet cast an ambient light like a full moon against the canyon walls. The comet was hanging just over our heads. If I had had a step ladder, I could have climbed up and touched it. But even without a ladder,I was close enough. We often think of a comet as something that's moving at great speed, and of course it was. But from my vantage point that night, it was completely stationary. Completely still. And I had no way to comprehend what I was seeing. Since we were alone on the brow, besides breaking out in tears, I broke out in song. I sang He Ne Ma Tov in the Hebrew Rabbi Sherwin had taught me. It is translated, "How good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity." Psalm 133:1
Notice that Salzberg didn't say, "To be a conscious person in the world is to be aware of all the suffering and beauty." There is no "is"; there is only a comma. You can be conscious and have no awareness of suffering or beauty. A narcissist, while conscious, knows no suffering and a barbarian has no appreciation for beauty. "To be aware of suffering and beauty is to have your heart broken again and again" needs little explanation. As we well know, the price for love is pain.
My brother and I would return to the Grand Canyon seventeen years later. This time we explored the north rim. There are significantly less tourists there as it is more trouble to get to and few places to stay. It offers significantly more solitude. We enjoyed much more solitude than we predicted when our four-wheeler broke down and we were stranded there over three hours while waiting for help. You can do much worse than to be stranded at the north rim of the Grand Canyon for three hours. The views were different from those of the south, but the experience was the same. It was all too beautiful than I could comprehend. It was like emotional brain freeze. The reason that slurpie hurts so badly is that the soft palette is overwhelmed and sends a powerful signal to the brain to stop drinking so fast. In the case of those canyon views, the best thing to do was to turn our heads.
Two days later my brother and I drove into Zion Canyon, Utah, In its case, you don't look down to appreciate the view, you look up. You're in the base of the canyon to begin with. If I thought the Grand Canyon was the greatest of all, I was in for a surprise. The night we found ourselves under a full moon in the middle of the night in the center of that canyon, was one of the most incredible and surreal experience of my life. There's little I would trade for that experience.
Why would nature be so cruel as to put sharp, prickly thorns on a rose? But as the poets have told us, it's actually a rose on a thorn. The price of love may be pain, but it's worth it.
"There's thorns on the cactus tree
There's thorns on the rose.
There's thorns in the heart of me
That nobody knows." Anastasia's Eyes, Dan Fogelberg
When I first read Salzberg's words, I thought there was a mistake. How can "suffering" and "beauty" be in the same sentence? I thought beauty was the antidote for suffering. But I quickly realized that suffering can lead to beauty and beauty can lead to suffering. They are both cut from the same bolt of cloth. The sentence was true.
In April of 1997, the Hale-Bopp comet was closest to the earth. As my brother and I approached the south rim of the Grand Canyon that beautiful afternoon. I was his passenger and he was driving. It would be my second visit to the canyon and his first. He was talking to me and glancing at me to his right so he didn't see that we had arrived at the canyon. I told him to pull over. He asked me why and I said, "Just pull over." When we were safely on the side of the road, I interrupted him and said, "Look!", pointing over his shoulder to his left. His eyes immediately flooded with tears as they began to roll down his face. "Beauty". "Suffering". That night it was my turn to suffer. After setting up our camp and finding something to eat, we walked to the edge of the Grand Canyon at nearly midnight. Although it was dark, the comet cast an ambient light like a full moon against the canyon walls. The comet was hanging just over our heads. If I had had a step ladder, I could have climbed up and touched it. But even without a ladder,I was close enough. We often think of a comet as something that's moving at great speed, and of course it was. But from my vantage point that night, it was completely stationary. Completely still. And I had no way to comprehend what I was seeing. Since we were alone on the brow, besides breaking out in tears, I broke out in song. I sang He Ne Ma Tov in the Hebrew Rabbi Sherwin had taught me. It is translated, "How good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity." Psalm 133:1
Notice that Salzberg didn't say, "To be a conscious person in the world is to be aware of all the suffering and beauty." There is no "is"; there is only a comma. You can be conscious and have no awareness of suffering or beauty. A narcissist, while conscious, knows no suffering and a barbarian has no appreciation for beauty. "To be aware of suffering and beauty is to have your heart broken again and again" needs little explanation. As we well know, the price for love is pain.
My brother and I would return to the Grand Canyon seventeen years later. This time we explored the north rim. There are significantly less tourists there as it is more trouble to get to and few places to stay. It offers significantly more solitude. We enjoyed much more solitude than we predicted when our four-wheeler broke down and we were stranded there over three hours while waiting for help. You can do much worse than to be stranded at the north rim of the Grand Canyon for three hours. The views were different from those of the south, but the experience was the same. It was all too beautiful than I could comprehend. It was like emotional brain freeze. The reason that slurpie hurts so badly is that the soft palette is overwhelmed and sends a powerful signal to the brain to stop drinking so fast. In the case of those canyon views, the best thing to do was to turn our heads.
Two days later my brother and I drove into Zion Canyon, Utah, In its case, you don't look down to appreciate the view, you look up. You're in the base of the canyon to begin with. If I thought the Grand Canyon was the greatest of all, I was in for a surprise. The night we found ourselves under a full moon in the middle of the night in the center of that canyon, was one of the most incredible and surreal experience of my life. There's little I would trade for that experience.
Why would nature be so cruel as to put sharp, prickly thorns on a rose? But as the poets have told us, it's actually a rose on a thorn. The price of love may be pain, but it's worth it.
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
Remembering D-Day
"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee." Psalm 56:3
Psalm 56:3 was the first Bible verse I memorized at age five. My mother sent me to Vacation Bible School at the First Baptist Church of Enterprise, Alabama and it was there I learned this verse by heart. I don't know what I had to be afraid of at five years old, but it must have been something since the verse still impacts me today.
I thought about this verse when I read the interview with 100 year old Rose Jackson of Summerville, Georgia. Today as we acknowledge the 74th anniversary of the Normandy invasion, commonly known as D-Day. She said something in that interview that I thought had something to do with me. Rose was an army nurse at the 5th evacuation hospital behind enemy lines during D-Day. She said over those several days they treated over 25,000 wounded and dying soldiers. But this is what got to me. "Even behind the battle, we'd still hear the bombs in the distance and, occasionally, one one hit nearby, but there was no time to be afraid."
Fear is a natural response to life events and circumstances. We are hard wired for fear. The fear mechanisms in our brain are in our oldest reptilian part of our brain. In Dan Gardner's The Science of Fear, he says that although fear is a natural response, we fear the wrong things. He uses as examples that we fear cancer, but don't fear heart disease. He points out that more people die of heart related illnesses each year in the US and that it concerns us, but we don't have nearly the level of fear and dread that we have for cancer. Other statistics he offers are that we have a horrid fear of snakes and spiders. He says we shouldn't fear bites from reptiles and arachnids, because less than ten people die of either one each year in the US. On the other hand we should fear mosquitoes which cause over a million deaths world-wide each year. These tiny creatures not only cause death, but some horrible painful and debilitating diseases.
My late father-in-law, a veteran of World War II, had a deathly fear of thunderstorms. Once during the war, a Japanese war plane dropped seven bombs on the beach where he was camped. The next morning as he stepped off the craters from the shore to his tent, the eighth bomb would have hit his tent. Can you imagine how loud those bombs were a few feet from where he had been asleep? He had good reason to fear lightning and thunder.
I have my own issues with fear. And so do you. But we would all do well to heed the advice of the psalmist David, "When we're afraid, we should trust in God." We should also consider the experience of Rose Jackson, "There was no time to be afraid."
It's interesting the things that help us with our fears. One of my phobias is getting lost in a big city. I related an experience of getting lost in Atlanta to my counselor and she said, "You weren't lost. You knew where you were all along. You were in Atlanta, a city about 90 miles south of here". Amazingly, I have found great comfort in that.
Although she didn't say so in the interview, Rose Jackson probably had plenty of time to be afraid after the war. But hopefully she, like David, and all of us, can not have time for fear. During the Great Depression, Franklin D. Roosevelt said, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself," But left unchecked phobophobia, the fear of fear, can be a terrible thing. "What time I am afraid?" With effort and help, no time.
Psalm 56:3 was the first Bible verse I memorized at age five. My mother sent me to Vacation Bible School at the First Baptist Church of Enterprise, Alabama and it was there I learned this verse by heart. I don't know what I had to be afraid of at five years old, but it must have been something since the verse still impacts me today.
I thought about this verse when I read the interview with 100 year old Rose Jackson of Summerville, Georgia. Today as we acknowledge the 74th anniversary of the Normandy invasion, commonly known as D-Day. She said something in that interview that I thought had something to do with me. Rose was an army nurse at the 5th evacuation hospital behind enemy lines during D-Day. She said over those several days they treated over 25,000 wounded and dying soldiers. But this is what got to me. "Even behind the battle, we'd still hear the bombs in the distance and, occasionally, one one hit nearby, but there was no time to be afraid."
Fear is a natural response to life events and circumstances. We are hard wired for fear. The fear mechanisms in our brain are in our oldest reptilian part of our brain. In Dan Gardner's The Science of Fear, he says that although fear is a natural response, we fear the wrong things. He uses as examples that we fear cancer, but don't fear heart disease. He points out that more people die of heart related illnesses each year in the US and that it concerns us, but we don't have nearly the level of fear and dread that we have for cancer. Other statistics he offers are that we have a horrid fear of snakes and spiders. He says we shouldn't fear bites from reptiles and arachnids, because less than ten people die of either one each year in the US. On the other hand we should fear mosquitoes which cause over a million deaths world-wide each year. These tiny creatures not only cause death, but some horrible painful and debilitating diseases.
My late father-in-law, a veteran of World War II, had a deathly fear of thunderstorms. Once during the war, a Japanese war plane dropped seven bombs on the beach where he was camped. The next morning as he stepped off the craters from the shore to his tent, the eighth bomb would have hit his tent. Can you imagine how loud those bombs were a few feet from where he had been asleep? He had good reason to fear lightning and thunder.
I have my own issues with fear. And so do you. But we would all do well to heed the advice of the psalmist David, "When we're afraid, we should trust in God." We should also consider the experience of Rose Jackson, "There was no time to be afraid."
It's interesting the things that help us with our fears. One of my phobias is getting lost in a big city. I related an experience of getting lost in Atlanta to my counselor and she said, "You weren't lost. You knew where you were all along. You were in Atlanta, a city about 90 miles south of here". Amazingly, I have found great comfort in that.
Although she didn't say so in the interview, Rose Jackson probably had plenty of time to be afraid after the war. But hopefully she, like David, and all of us, can not have time for fear. During the Great Depression, Franklin D. Roosevelt said, "We have nothing to fear but fear itself," But left unchecked phobophobia, the fear of fear, can be a terrible thing. "What time I am afraid?" With effort and help, no time.
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