Honey versus Vinegar

Some days, humanity amazes me, for better or worse.  Today was, unfortunately, worse.  The Gardening Beauty and I came home from running errands and we were immediately accosted by our retired next door neighbor.  Our very nice duplex neighbor had inadvertently backed his trailer ever so slightly onto her property, by the barest of margins, and she wanted to know where he was.  We guessed he was in his apartment and roused him.  He came out and she, loaded for bear, unloaded on him.

This is where some history is in order… she has lived next door to our duplex for 30 years, and has had some really bad experiences thanks to drug addicts, goofballs, thoughtless cretins and completely insane tenants who have revolved through our place.  She is understandably wary of anyone connected to our duplex.  The thing is, and she seems to forget this, we are NOT them.  We are relatively reasonable and understanding and willing to compromise, if she would just calm down and give us a chance.  And so is Nice Guy Neighbor.

So, she unloaded and had just about spent all her ammunition and was headed toward the land of reason, when her daughter emerged from the house and turned up the negative energy by a factor of 100.  She began ranting and raving about Nice Guy Neighbor destroying her property (not HER property, by the way, but when you’re a hundred and eighty pounds of whack-a-doodle, facts mean very little, apparently).  At this point,  the Gardening Beauty had enough and entered the fray.  That is when the neighbor’s daughter began the most childish behavior I have ever personally witnessed from an alleged “adult”.  The mocking tone, condescension and outright hatred came right out of the bully playbook from grade school.  I stood by and witnessed until she began insulting the Gardening Beauty.  That was enough and I attempted to defuse the situation.

I tried to use a reasonable tone and asked her if she might get what she wants by softening her approach.  Her response?  “This has nothing to do with you!  Mind your own business!”  Then she turned to Nice Guy Neighbor and said, in a tone that can only be approximated by the most spoiled, bratty child you have ever seen, “You want me to ask nice?  Fine.  Will you Puh-leeze move your truck?”  Well, sorry, I tried reason, but obviously, she was unwilling to listen. It was like being thrust into the middle of some second rate reality TV show predicated on conflict and the lowest common denominator.   The only thing I could think to say was, “Are you a child?”  Obviously, that helped things not one bit.  She railed and ranted and raved on.  Meanwhile, all Nice Guy Neighbor wanted to know was where exactly the property line was so that he could avoid any issues in the future. (But he was very quickly losing his cool, as well)

Finally, she marched off in a huff, her negative energy spent and dripping all over us.  We turned to our retired neighbor and talked reasonably to her, and she responded reasonably.  Her excuse for her daughter?  “She was just defending her mom.”  I left it unsaid that she had not done a very good job.  In any case, the Gardening Beauty approached her and asked, “Can we start again?  I want us to be neighbors”  (Such a good heart in that one)  The neighbor agreed, we talked for a short time, assured her that if she had any concerns, that she should feel ok raising them to us in a respectful manner, and parted… well… neighbors of a sort.

I feel bad for giving up on her daughter, but there are some people who are just, for lack of a better word, icky.  There were a million approaches that would have been productive and positive, and she ignored all of them and jumped to full-on jerk.  And when faced with someone who was willing to maintain a reasonable tone with her, she doubled-down on the stupid.  Somehow, I am sure she is someone I am not interested in ever getting to know.  And that is sad.  When being nice is so easy and being a jerk takes so much work, why would anyone opt for the latter?

Not Your Father’s Faith

How can you believe in an imaginary man in the sky?

It’s a valid question, and on the face of it, sounds ridiculous.  The easiest answer might be that I was raised a believer, but that shortchanges the doubts and struggles that have shaped my life.  There was a point where I seriously doubted the existence of God, but not because I fell into a dark place.  I began doubting him when my life seemed in a very good place.  Why do I need God when things are going well?  My mind opened to the beauty of logic and reason.  And they are beautiful, truly beautiful.  Logic and reason show the best of humanity, and so do compassion and emotion.  Most of the obstacles we continually throw in our path as the human race is when we get these things out of balance.  We become so passionate that we do not step back and use our reason to evaluate the reality around us.  Or, we become so detached that we miss the joy and excitement of being engaged in life and open to impossibilities.

In any case, why do I believe in the guy in the sky?  Well, the fact is… I don’t.  He’s not a guy, and he’s not in the sky, and he’s not a he… or a she.  He or she or God can be manifested in whatever form you need.  God is God.  One truth of which I am absolutely certain is that God exists all around us and works through us.  Yes, it defies reason to believe that something ephemeral exists that guides and watches and loves, but I have discovered, to my delight, that part of faith is the emotion of belief.  For example, I have been deeply moved for the past five weeks at church, which is a somewhat new experience for me.  Now, you may explain it away as coincidence, as the result of meditation (because that IS part of worship) and reflection, or as a psychological mind trick, but for me, it is more.    I have not experienced that kind of emotional connection to my faith since… well… ever.  But for some reason, my heart, or ears, or brain, have been open lately to the very real emotional effect that inspiration can cause.  Either the message of the pastor has made a personal connection, or a lyric in a hymn or song has moved me to tears because of the emotional connection it has created in me, or maybe, something bigger than that is at work.  I am not vain enough to believe that God makes time for little old me, but apparently, even sparrows do not escape his attention.  I am a bit larger than a sparrow.  So, maybe the twisted, craggy trail of my life has led here:  a place where my faith feels renewed in ways I never expected.  It’s not anything like a conversion event, and God did not appear to me.  I just feel… good, when I go to church, when I think about my faith, when I think about why we’re here and what set this whole crazy think in motion.

Let me be clear here.  The universe is 13.8 billion years old and the earth is millions of years old.  It was not all done in one week, even though I am sure God could have done it that way.  But why?  I believe in science, and I believe it because not believing it would be like not believing that the earth revolves around the sun.  It does, even though at one time, it was considered blasphemous to say so.  That is ridiculous.  God gave us reason so that we might understand the world around us and take care of his creation.  This conflict between reason and emotion is silly to me.  They both exist and fit together and that works for me.  It is not necessary for me to believe in a God that created the world in a week, and it is not necessary for me to believe that all this incredibly complex universe came into being through a series of random events.  Sometimes, we find out that what we firmly believed might not be true.  So, we think about it, work it out, and move on with new knowledge.  Why is either side so intent on being immovable?  Granted, I see much more immobility on the part of those who rely on faith, but I suppose that is because faith is such a personal, and emotional thing.

I’m rambling.  Probably semi-incoherently, but I will most definitely revisit these ideas again.  Just needed to open up about what I believe.  Maybe I just believe in love and compassion.  Maybe I just believe that we as human beings are capable of good.  Maybe… But I do find comfort in believing in something beyond reason and emotion and the present.

This Olde House

There are few things that sadden me as much as seeing a house and yard in a sad state of disrepair.  Imagine investing hundreds of thousands of dollars, enduring the nail-biting of the mortgage process, the upheaval of the moving process – only to allow your house and yard to deteriorate.  Is it a lack of respect for your own property?  A lack of responsibility? A lack of money? I just don’t know.

While out walking Miss Poops-a-Lot, we encountered a couple homes in an otherwise nice area of town that were in ridiculously bad states of repair.  And we both were crestfallen.  We cannot afford our own home, so when we see someone who has allowed (or maybe been forced by finances) their property to become a junkyard or a cesspool or a blight, it makes us sad.  Now, we aren’t talking about someone not mowing their lawn, or having some peeling paint.  These were full on areas of sadness.  Yards that were full of bald dirt patches, houses with cracked windows and yards that were full of junk – and that’s a charitable description.

I do know there are millions of people who would love to own their own homes but cannot get a mortgage, or refuse to take the poison mortgages that precipitated the housing bust.  They would care for their lawns and gardens, maintain the places they live, and take part in the community instead of insulating themselves behind a wall of debris and disrepair.

Whatever happened to the dream of owning a home?  In the 50s and 60s, home ownership was an accessible reality for a wide majority of the middle class.  Now, it seems like a hallucinatory dream for most.  Plus, the costs of maintenance have become prohibitive.  Frankly, who can afford to own a home?  Some decide to rent so that the financial emergencies of a broken furnace or burst pipes are not theirs alone to shoulder.  So, it is especially egregious when I hear of a landlord who allows their property to fall into disrepair.  They are exploiting their renters, pure and simple.

Why do we sometimes show such disdain for our surroundings?  Thankfully, there is a movement in gardening and renovation and building that utilizes local materials, natural landscaping and a deep respect for the micro-ecosystem in each local.  I hope things keep moving in that direction so that the pride of ownership becomes real and immediate and we can reconnect with our world.

Bibliophile

There is no place where I feel quite as comfortable as a library.  Many a long day have been spent in the company of musty and colorful tomes of history, lore, legend and hilarity.  I love books.  Love them.  The tactile experience of a book is as much a part of me as my soul.  There is no anticipation and excitement that equals the banquet of knowledge that you encounter in a library.  It’s all there for you, at your fingertips.

Make no mistake, I am not some Luddite who disdains technology.  I like the fact that almost all the knowledge of the world are transmittable across the world via the internet, and believe it is one of the true intellectual revolutions of my lifetime.  However, today I acquired a library card for the first time in many years, and it took me back to a place of intense enjoyment, comfort and pleasure.  There is no smell, or sensation, that equals the atmosphere of a library.  It’s not an electricity, as that would run counter to the placidity of the place.  No, it is more like a well worn pair of shoes, or an old coat.  It is familiar in a way that can only be fully appreciated by being away from it for a time.

My spirit, my love for learning, was renewed by just walking by and browsing through the reams of bound paper neatly cataloged on their shelves.  The catalog system has changed since my halcyon childhood days (Dewey Decimal reigned supreme, then), but it is still remarkably easy to find what inspires you.  Storehouses of knowledge, that is what they truly are to me.  And I adore knowledge.  Truly, madly, deeply.

All thanks to a library card.

Hey There, Stranger!

It’s been too long since I last utilized my blog.  There have been times that I have composed lucid, eloquent posts in my head during my drive to and from work, but, alas, they never made it from my brain to here.  It turns out public radio is great inspiration for thought.  Hopefully, I will be able to render you speechless with my incredible mental gymnastics more often on here.  Or at least you’ll get a good laugh out of it.

The Gardening Beauty and I are enjoying life right now.  Miss Poops-a-Lot keeps us laughing and on our toes, and offers cuddles just when we need them.  Today, we found what we believe will be our church home here.  We both were raised in the Wisconsin Synod, which is quite conservative.  I was fortunate that my previous church had wonderful and friendly members and a decent man as pastor.  However,  I was never able to reconcile the synod’s stance on women and gays with my own.  They take these stances based upon their belief that the Bible states that women are subject to their husbands and may not take official positions in the church, and that homosexuality is a sin.  I have serious issues with both these positions.

So the last two weeks we attended a very nice church.  It’s situated just outside of town in a beautiful spot.  They are a small but active congregation, and the one thing that struck us immediately was that there was a nice mix of older and younger members.  Unfortunately, many churches are either tilted toward the very young (kids and twenty-somethings) or have grown old.  There seemed to be a vibrant feeling to this church and it began with the pastor.  She is in her 30s and very personable.  Her sermons, both weeks, have struck a chord in both of us and moved us deeply, which is what a sermon should do.  The members have been very kind and welcoming.  I have a singing voice that stands out, so some made kind comments on my hymn singing, which is nice to hear and maybe makes it easier to approach us as it gives folks an excuse to say hello.

Then, this afternoon we attended a local trade show put on by the city business league.  While taking with the pastor there (the church had a booth set up), we discovered that they have a community garden from which they donate to local food shelves.  That immediately appealed to the Gardening Beauty and the charity impressed both of us.  This is a church that lives and breathes what I have always felt is at the core of Christianity – love for God and for one another.  In fact, I feel a vibrant feeling of love from this church and believe attending this church will have a positive impact for us.  And hopefully we can help them in their mission.  It makes me smile just thinking about the people we have already met and the good things we have experienced so far.

It feels good to find a home.

Cold Dead Hands? Seriously?

There are some perceptions that are so incorrect, so wrong-headed, that they must be addressed.  Let me be clear… the government is not coming to seize your guns.  If they wanted your guns, they would have come and taken them already.  Do you know why?  Because the government has tanks, and fully-automatic weapons, and jets and missiles and drones and all kinds of weapons we as citizens do not have.  If the U.S. government actually wanted to become a tyranny over this issue, it could have done it any time.  And it could do it easily.

No, what the government, and specifically the President, wants, is to reform the unmitigated disaster that is current gun regulation. How do I know it’s a disaster?  Because while the NRA claims guns don’t kill people, the truth is that people with guns do, and they do it very efficiently and in breathtaking numbers here in the United States.  I am not naive enough to believe that making certain kinds of guns illegal will end violence.  But I do know that extremely permissive regulations are a complete and tragic failure.  And yet, the political arm of the NRA still insists that it is not the number of guns and the lack of background checks and tracking that is an issue.  Apparently, we need MORE guns.  Yeah, that didn’t work during the Cold War and it isn’t working now.

The Executive Orders that Obama signed are not ground-breaking, nor do they threaten, in any way, the rights granted in the Second Amendment.  The idea that background checks should be necessary before purchasing a firearm is not prohibitive.  Inconvenient, yes.  But then, so is standing in line at the DMV.  Yet, we deal with it.  The fact the ATF is operating without a director is appalling.  And what exactly is tyrannical in calling for increased emphasis on safe and responsible gun ownership?  These are common sense ideas, aren’t they?

Speaking of the Second Amendment, here is what it actually says: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”  Regulation is part and parcel of the Amendment!  The government is well within its scope to regulate the commerce and possession of firearms.  That does not mean it is trespassing on the right to own them.  And as for the idea that an armed citizenry is the last defense against government tyranny… well, I’ll leave that for another post.

Here is a question – if you want to own firearms, should you be required to have a license and purchase firearms liability insurance?  And should you be required to take every possible step to ensure the safety of everyone else?  That is what we demand for car ownership, so why is it such a radical idea to demand that for firearms ownership?

Why is it so scandalous to demand that the government, gun shops and gun owners do everything in their power to make sure guns do not end up on the black market, or end up in the hands of those struggling with mental illness?   A national database would aid law enforcement in tracking guns.  Of course, there are those who fear that will become a means for the government to easily seize all weapons.

The truth is that there is no simple solution to address the violence that has made the US one of the most dangerous places in world to live.  But the larger tragedy would be to allow that to continue without making any effort.  I believe that it will take sensible and enforceable gun regulation and a dedicated commitment to make mental health services available to everyone.  Unfortunately, the NRA has preached and misinformed so vehemently against any kind of gun regulation, and has buried its head so deeply up Congress’ backside via lobbyists,  that even sensible gun regulation appears to be a pipe dream.

Reboot

It has been a significant amount of time since my last post. And so much has occurred both on a personal and societal level. Election season has come and gone, a string of tragedies have shaken our faith in humanity, a few people close to me have died, true love has been found. There is so much about which t write and my reservoir has filled again. I look forward to jumping back in with both feet and by turns inspire (really?0 and infuriate (probably) anyone who reads.

Until then, Merry Christmas, and I hope the end of this year brings peace and happiness, or at the very least a bright shining moment or two.