An oft-ask question is, "How will you be commemorating September 11th?"
I commemorate September 11th with my life. You see, on September 11, 1948, my parents were married. While others commemorate the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and on Shanksville, Pennsylvania, the people lost, the first responders--I celebrate the wedding of my parents in 1948--63 years ago.
I commemorate September 11th--with the pursuit of peace and understanding among people--each day. How? A cliche? No.
Among people is not a nebulous term. I pursue peace and understanding with each individual I meet, know, and love each day. I am not a Pollyanna. Not everyone shares my views and preferences on issues and matters large and small.
I do not claim myself to be a proud American. I wave no flags. I wear no pins. I parade no routes. I do get choked up on Election Day--on- and off-year elections just the same. I do get choked up on Inauguration Day. Party matters not to me. I am not a proud American. I am a committed world citizen.
By definition, I am no patriot--I am not patriotic. I devote my energies in search of peace and toward understanding, rather than in defense of America, and seeking vengeance, or being vigilant against acts of terror. I prefer to be vigilant for acts of peace.
I seek peace each day with each individual I meet that day. I seek not complete agreement. I seek understanding. Different views, different preferences--different perspectives--invite me to deeper understanding.
Seeking peace--seeking understanding--is not grandiose. Peace and understanding are my daily aspirations--one person, one day at a time.
I commemorate the peace and understanding that was married on September 11, 1948. Happy 63rd anniversary, Mom and Dad. Thank you for your example of love--your commitment to peace.
Showing posts with label idealist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label idealist. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Civic Responsibility
More and more, as time goes on, I find myself much less ardent in my advocacy for a given cause. Although if called to label myself politically, I would describe myself as liberal, that does not suffice to describe my perspective. I am far more ardent an advocate for civility, respect, pragmatism, and civic engagement.
I am a resident of St. Paul, Minnesota. As such, I witnessed an irresponsible government shutdown. Irresponsible--the negotiation strategies employed, rather than any of the facts that resulted in the shutdown warrant irresponsible. Time elapsed. Compromise prevailed. Now, the Minnesota State government is open, and operational now. I was not affected directly. I am a friend of a state employee. I am a citizen of Minnesota. Yet, on a day-to-day basis, the shutdown did not have a short-term impact on me.
Civic responsibility. The debt ceiling negotiations. I am not an economist. I do not play one on television. I am a citizen of the United States. I am a recipient of SSDI. Neither of these elements of me may have any part in the debt ceiling negotiations. Yet, both elements lead me to reflection.
Many people are heard to say, "throw the bums out!" in relation to officeholders, who vote for a given piece of legislation, or a given political persuasion. I am not so inclined. I vote on the basis of the current needs at Election Day, and the needs I perceive for the future. I do not vote for a given political candidate as a vote against the opposing candidate. Such an approach does not give anyone the mandate he or she needs to govern. I do not engage in name-calling with regard to a given officeholder, candidate, or political movement. To do so dilutes my integrity, credibility, and influence for my convictions.
Principled pragmatism.
Typical of many college students, I was an idealist. I was a passionate advocate for issues of personal interest, knowledge, and understanding. Had life been perfect, I would have pursued paid work promoting the awareness of disabilities.
With time--with the realities of career disappointments, among other factors--I became more of a pragmatist. College ideals gave way to the need for a job, health insurance, among other things.
Recently, I have listened with disgust to the individuals engaged in the debt ceiling debate. Participants are so firmly entrenched in their principles that there is no room for compromise--for pragmatism.
Principles and pragmatism need not be diametrically opposed. In fact, they are intimates. Principles are the starting point from which negotiations regarding any debate. Yet, at the point that listening, understanding, pragmatism, and compromise are left out of the discourse, principles--however genuinely held they may be--lose their credence.
Civic Responsibility. Principles. Listening. Understanding. Listening. Pragmatism. Compromise. Principled Pragmatism. Civic Responsibility. These need not be complicated undertakings. These are worthy of celebration. When they prevail, we may inhale civility's breath.
I am a resident of St. Paul, Minnesota. As such, I witnessed an irresponsible government shutdown. Irresponsible--the negotiation strategies employed, rather than any of the facts that resulted in the shutdown warrant irresponsible. Time elapsed. Compromise prevailed. Now, the Minnesota State government is open, and operational now. I was not affected directly. I am a friend of a state employee. I am a citizen of Minnesota. Yet, on a day-to-day basis, the shutdown did not have a short-term impact on me.
Civic responsibility. The debt ceiling negotiations. I am not an economist. I do not play one on television. I am a citizen of the United States. I am a recipient of SSDI. Neither of these elements of me may have any part in the debt ceiling negotiations. Yet, both elements lead me to reflection.
Many people are heard to say, "throw the bums out!" in relation to officeholders, who vote for a given piece of legislation, or a given political persuasion. I am not so inclined. I vote on the basis of the current needs at Election Day, and the needs I perceive for the future. I do not vote for a given political candidate as a vote against the opposing candidate. Such an approach does not give anyone the mandate he or she needs to govern. I do not engage in name-calling with regard to a given officeholder, candidate, or political movement. To do so dilutes my integrity, credibility, and influence for my convictions.
Principled pragmatism.
Typical of many college students, I was an idealist. I was a passionate advocate for issues of personal interest, knowledge, and understanding. Had life been perfect, I would have pursued paid work promoting the awareness of disabilities.
With time--with the realities of career disappointments, among other factors--I became more of a pragmatist. College ideals gave way to the need for a job, health insurance, among other things.
Recently, I have listened with disgust to the individuals engaged in the debt ceiling debate. Participants are so firmly entrenched in their principles that there is no room for compromise--for pragmatism.
Principles and pragmatism need not be diametrically opposed. In fact, they are intimates. Principles are the starting point from which negotiations regarding any debate. Yet, at the point that listening, understanding, pragmatism, and compromise are left out of the discourse, principles--however genuinely held they may be--lose their credence.
Civic Responsibility. Principles. Listening. Understanding. Listening. Pragmatism. Compromise. Principled Pragmatism. Civic Responsibility. These need not be complicated undertakings. These are worthy of celebration. When they prevail, we may inhale civility's breath.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Betty Ford
Oh, gosh. Betty Ford died today.
My heart skipped a beat--sank--upon reading that former First Lady Betty Ford died today at the age of 93. She served in office--as the First Lady--when I was a teenager. Several years after my grandmother died of breast cancer--at a time when breast cancer ravaged the spirits of women, whose tissues it invaded--Betty Ford gave voice to the disease.
Betty Ford was not an abrasive woman. She abided by the expectations of her generation. She lived the realities of a demanding political life--the wife of a long-time U.S. Representative. She raised four children. She did not do so begrudgingly. She was not seeking a career beyond her young family. Her public career--her sphere of influence--would be broadened beyond what could have been imagined by anyone, thanks to the Ford family entry into the nation's history.
Yet, at the same time, Betty Ford was hardly a spineless wallflower. In the best sense of the word, Betty Ford was an opportunist--a graceful opportunist. She took her life experiences--her personal challenges--and transformed them into sources of help from which others so challenged could find practical help, and personal strength. Just as Betty Ford was the face of a country learning how to articulate what Gloria Steinem, and others advocated--women's rights. Betty Ford was comfortable giving voice to uncomfortable social realities of our time together--marijuana, addiction, premarital sex, and abortion, among others. Betty Ford gave a face--literally--to putt
Obituaries, and memorials offered for individuals, who have died recently--Betty Ford, can seem maudlin. Yet, maudlinness survives only when we fail to ignite in our spirits the essence of Betty Ford in our own lives. How did we know her? When did we meet her? Did Betty Ford give voice to values--issues--of import to us? Did Betty Ford teach us anything about ourselves--about our world?
My heart skipped a beat--sank--upon reading that former First Lady Betty Ford died today at the age of 93. She served in office--as the First Lady--when I was a teenager. Several years after my grandmother died of breast cancer--at a time when breast cancer ravaged the spirits of women, whose tissues it invaded--Betty Ford gave voice to the disease.
Betty Ford was not an abrasive woman. She abided by the expectations of her generation. She lived the realities of a demanding political life--the wife of a long-time U.S. Representative. She raised four children. She did not do so begrudgingly. She was not seeking a career beyond her young family. Her public career--her sphere of influence--would be broadened beyond what could have been imagined by anyone, thanks to the Ford family entry into the nation's history.
Yet, at the same time, Betty Ford was hardly a spineless wallflower. In the best sense of the word, Betty Ford was an opportunist--a graceful opportunist. She took her life experiences--her personal challenges--and transformed them into sources of help from which others so challenged could find practical help, and personal strength. Just as Betty Ford was the face of a country learning how to articulate what Gloria Steinem, and others advocated--women's rights. Betty Ford was comfortable giving voice to uncomfortable social realities of our time together--marijuana, addiction, premarital sex, and abortion, among others. Betty Ford gave a face--literally--to putt
Obituaries, and memorials offered for individuals, who have died recently--Betty Ford, can seem maudlin. Yet, maudlinness survives only when we fail to ignite in our spirits the essence of Betty Ford in our own lives. How did we know her? When did we meet her? Did Betty Ford give voice to values--issues--of import to us? Did Betty Ford teach us anything about ourselves--about our world?
Friday, June 17, 2011
Three Young Lives
I have never given birth to any children...not that I remember, anyway. I am 51. Maternal instincts are not within my self-concept.
Yet, something quite unfamiliar is beating in me--the impulse to knock some sense into the heads of three guys, who have yet to make firm declarations of their life pursuits. To call them "boys" is inaccurate. They are in their 20s, and lower 30s. Don't get me wrong--I love these guys. Yet, "young men" exceeds their current beings. Certainly, "men" is beyond of the reach of these individuals today.
In my 20s, I was an Idealist with a capital "I." Work pulverized my Idealism, replacing it with necessary Pragmatism, with a capital "P."
A tone is creeping into my thoughts. "When I was your age...," "Listen to me, I have experience...," "Mom and Dad worked hard to live the life they enjoy now," "There is a point at which you need to put issues from your past in the past OR transform those issues into forces to serve you and others toward a better future...."
When I was in my 20s, and early 30s, I am sure my parents were thinking some of those same thoughts. They had lived through my father's year in Korea. They raised three children. They were involved in professional associations, and served in public office. They were active in their community--dedicated to creating a better world. Not with bravado. They did so with simple, clear acts rooted in deep convictions.
My grandparents of their son and daughter. It was a different time. They were proud. Their children had exceeded their achievements. One grandfather completed the eighth grade. When he sought certification to be a public accountant--a CPA--Pops went to a high school instructor. He tested his way to deem his worthiness to pursue a career. He did not test out of responsibility to education, he was tested into--proven to possess the requisite passion for--a career in accountancy. One grandmother followed the work of her time--a teacher. Ray--I'm too young to be called Grandpa--was rooted in the family logging and papermill work. Later, he worked on the railroad. One grandmother volunteered her gifts in a state hospital. She fulfilled expectations of her time--motherhood. Yet, I wonder. Had times been different might she have unwrapped her gifts--made her way into medicine? We will never know.
With all of that said, I don't know how to stifle the tone in my thoughts. Where is Archie Bunker when you need him?
I do not know what contributions my three young guys will make to the world. They have the intellect. Yet, to date, they lack the aptitude to apply their intellect--to make use of their gifts.
Technology has marvelous applications that improve many people's lives. Yet, my three guys do not know the meaning of "white noise." They lack the recognition requisite to tap technology's marvels.
They like settle for white noise. They like don't listen to the world around them. They like don't look to see where they may offer themselves--their gifts. Are they guys of their time? Only with time may we know.
Never have I conceived a child. I am not a mother. Yet, an unfamiliar impulse is beating in me--an unfamiliar tone is creeping into my thoughts.
Yet, something quite unfamiliar is beating in me--the impulse to knock some sense into the heads of three guys, who have yet to make firm declarations of their life pursuits. To call them "boys" is inaccurate. They are in their 20s, and lower 30s. Don't get me wrong--I love these guys. Yet, "young men" exceeds their current beings. Certainly, "men" is beyond of the reach of these individuals today.
In my 20s, I was an Idealist with a capital "I." Work pulverized my Idealism, replacing it with necessary Pragmatism, with a capital "P."
A tone is creeping into my thoughts. "When I was your age...," "Listen to me, I have experience...," "Mom and Dad worked hard to live the life they enjoy now," "There is a point at which you need to put issues from your past in the past OR transform those issues into forces to serve you and others toward a better future...."
When I was in my 20s, and early 30s, I am sure my parents were thinking some of those same thoughts. They had lived through my father's year in Korea. They raised three children. They were involved in professional associations, and served in public office. They were active in their community--dedicated to creating a better world. Not with bravado. They did so with simple, clear acts rooted in deep convictions.
My grandparents of their son and daughter. It was a different time. They were proud. Their children had exceeded their achievements. One grandfather completed the eighth grade. When he sought certification to be a public accountant--a CPA--Pops went to a high school instructor. He tested his way to deem his worthiness to pursue a career. He did not test out of responsibility to education, he was tested into--proven to possess the requisite passion for--a career in accountancy. One grandmother followed the work of her time--a teacher. Ray--I'm too young to be called Grandpa--was rooted in the family logging and papermill work. Later, he worked on the railroad. One grandmother volunteered her gifts in a state hospital. She fulfilled expectations of her time--motherhood. Yet, I wonder. Had times been different might she have unwrapped her gifts--made her way into medicine? We will never know.
With all of that said, I don't know how to stifle the tone in my thoughts. Where is Archie Bunker when you need him?
I do not know what contributions my three young guys will make to the world. They have the intellect. Yet, to date, they lack the aptitude to apply their intellect--to make use of their gifts.
Technology has marvelous applications that improve many people's lives. Yet, my three guys do not know the meaning of "white noise." They lack the recognition requisite to tap technology's marvels.
They like settle for white noise. They like don't listen to the world around them. They like don't look to see where they may offer themselves--their gifts. Are they guys of their time? Only with time may we know.
Never have I conceived a child. I am not a mother. Yet, an unfamiliar impulse is beating in me--an unfamiliar tone is creeping into my thoughts.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
A Convergence of Ages--Family Ages
This weekend three generations spanning sixty years converged. An evening gathering. I sat, and listened as an aunt, and a daughter. Though old enough to be so, I am not a mother. My daughter's eyes were clarified. No one may defy age forever. My head knows this truth. My daughter's eyes saw what the youngest in our gathering did not see--did not want to see or hear of his elders.
Though I have been blessed with a strong bond with my nephews, life circumstances do not give me the vehicle necessary to convey the importance of working. I am a poor example to my nephews of the commitment to the less glamorous parts of life--the substance of the working life. Rarely am I speechless. Rarely am I at a loss for how to communicate what needs to be said in a gentle, but diplomatic manner.
I recognize the fallacy of the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Yet, there must be some such question that is not laden with condescension, and implications of disrespect. What is the question? I believe myself to be an open-minded person, who strives to avoid the pitfalls of being judgmental. Yet, I am frightened by the cluelessness I am witnessing. Is what I am experiencing just my time for what all "older generations" of youth experience?
I guess if I am questioning what the proper question of those younger than I, then I should hardly expect to have any answers. So, I ponder.
Though I have been blessed with a strong bond with my nephews, life circumstances do not give me the vehicle necessary to convey the importance of working. I am a poor example to my nephews of the commitment to the less glamorous parts of life--the substance of the working life. Rarely am I speechless. Rarely am I at a loss for how to communicate what needs to be said in a gentle, but diplomatic manner.
I recognize the fallacy of the question, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Yet, there must be some such question that is not laden with condescension, and implications of disrespect. What is the question? I believe myself to be an open-minded person, who strives to avoid the pitfalls of being judgmental. Yet, I am frightened by the cluelessness I am witnessing. Is what I am experiencing just my time for what all "older generations" of youth experience?
I guess if I am questioning what the proper question of those younger than I, then I should hardly expect to have any answers. So, I ponder.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Perfection's Exhaustion
Were you to ask me in younger days, I would have proclaimed myself to be an idealist. I had principles that were contrary to the norm. I was a fool enough to believe that I could conquer the norm with my enthusiasm. To some degree, I did. Yet, life's realities had other designs on me.
I fought losing idealism as a compromise in my beliefs--a wholly unacceptable compromise. I fought being a realist--a pragmatist. That was an evil option I was determined to avoid at all costs. I did not recognize what the nature or magnitude of those costs might be.
I fought losing idealism as a compromise in my beliefs--a wholly unacceptable compromise. I fought being a realist--a pragmatist. That was an evil option I was determined to avoid at all costs. I did not recognize what the nature or magnitude of those costs might be.
This week I have spoke with a number of people, whom I think of as pragmatists--realists--reminded me of those two extremes. Today reminded me to reevaluate how I understand myself.
Today's cold is having the unexpected effect of clarifying my misconception--of who the realists are, and who the idealists are. One is not better than the other. It is a balance between those two extremes that comes the closest to offering any modicum of fulfillment.
My friends express an idealism that I don't know how to reconcile. Life is not perfect. Seeking to find just the right life path to live one's principles does not guarantee a "happy"--a fulfilling life. My friends are not alone in wanting to find that perfect life--that life without compromise.
Being idealistic is exhausting. It is not to say the investment should never be made. Quite to the contrary. Being idealistic is pragmatism's antidote. Idealism is a vaccine protecting a person from being infected with cynicism.
But, pragmatism is not the enemy--not idealism's antagonist. I go to bed tonight exhausted by the idealist's demand for the perfect life's path. I know no perfect pursuit, which is free of compromise.
Is it possible that what we view as living a compromised life is in truth our perfection, rather than a pristine pursuit of an idyllic life to which we should aspire?
Is it possible that what we view as living a compromised life is in truth our perfection, rather than a pristine pursuit of an idyllic life to which we should aspire?
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