Sleep (first draft)

I never have figured out why sleep eludes people at night, but the moment the alarm sounds, it seems there is nothing a person can do except think of sleep.  Tonight is one example.  I have dutifully set my alarm for 6:30 a.m. in the morning.  This is, after all, the best way to ensure I wake up for church.  Regardless of my calculations and planning, I'm still awake at 2:45 a.m.  With only a few hours until the heart-attack, sounding buzzer will sound off in my ears, I'm wide awake and typing on a screen without a care in the world. Naturally, morning will present a different problem.

I will likely roll over as the buzzer sounds, hit the snooze button, and drift off back into some forgettable dream that I'll be having at that time.  In a few bleak moments, the alarm will sound again and I'll find myself once again considering the effects of hitting that snooze button.  If I'm wise, I'll go ahead and get up, face the day, and hope that the result of my early morning bravery will result in a restful slumber in the evening to come.

Consequently, I know what will come to pass.  I'll stumble around, moody, most of the day, complain about something in the evening and once again find myself driven back to the computer screen where I'll type out some other collection of words to pass the time.  

Sometimes I think there should be a magic pill to make people sleep, and then I'm reminded there is such a pill.  In fact, there are several such pills as Ambien, Trazodone, and many other sleep aides right up the non-habit, forming Benadryl.  Naturally, each of those sleep aides comes with a long list of potential side effects, the worst being death.  No thank you, I'll take my chances with a good book, a few minutes in front of a blank computer screen, or even the moody problems of the next day.  Besides, when the day finally does arrive with that sounding buzzer, I can always place my dependence on a caffeine filled drink to brighten the day.  Then, if for some reason I fail to calculate the correct amounts of caffeine needed to keep me awake during the day only, I'll find myself once again wide awake and wondering just what could be keeping me awake all night.

Farm Roads

Note: Farm Roads was written for my kids.  The reader is likely 7-8 years of age.

           

            A farm can be a favorite place for anyone.  I spent hours at my grandparents farm fishing, walking into the woods, and watching the deer.  Of all the things I enjoyed about the farm, my favorite was my own little roads between two large Evergreen Trees.  There I would spend hours making roads from one end to the other with my toy bulldozers, road graders, dump trucks and farm trucks.

            Each year when the weather would get warm, my grandmother would get out her hoe and make the new roads.  She’d drag it and make roads from tree-to-tree.  After she was finished making my roads, I’d conduct farm business.

            I would make a house for each person along the road with small rocks or sticks.  I would grade the roads with the Tonka road grader to ensure just the right size roads.  My road was just like the one that ran in front of my grandparents house, and each time a truck or car would drive by, the dust would swirl up behind them and settle into the bushes along the real road.

                        My road was a great place, and it provided treasures.   I found a toy iron, a glass bottle, horseshoes, lid tops, and countless other little prized possessions.

            One time I got into trouble when the road expanded to the fence line.  My grandmother said there were snakes.  I tried to explain that I needed to get to the woods, but that branch of the road was closed forever.

            I can remember the feel of the dirt, the smell of the grass, and the bark of the Evergreen Trees that peeled away in small pieces.  I remember the way the grass disappeared the closer to the trees I got.

            Each evening, after a hard day on the roads, I’d sit in the bathtub and watch as the dirt of my roads drained away.  My grandmother always said it was just dirt, but to me it was more.  It was the foundation of the roads and I was a grader keeping it all neat like it should be.

            The farm is still there today.  My grandmother’s house is rented to some friends of ours, but the two big Evergreen trees are still there.  A few months ago, I walked over the yard to where my road had been long ago.  The grass had covered the roads I’d made, the trees were a little larger, and the old fence line was now cleared and no longer a place for snakes.  The real gravel road out front of the house had been paved years ago, and cars go much faster now.  The real road is wider, and my little roads are gone. 

            When I left, I saw something beside the largest tree.   It wasn’t mine, but there was a plastic dump truck.  There were no play roads, but then again, I guess this young kid would have to find a way to make a paved road now for his farm road.

An American Apology to the President of Afghanistan

Since President Obama has set the tone, that America should apologize to the President of Afghanistan for the burning of the Quran.  It is imperative that each American follows this outstanding example and expresses an apology to the President of Afghanistan as well.

Please feel free to share and follow my example as we collectively apologize to President Karzai.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the father who cries because his baby girl, a soldier fighting for your country, will never come home.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the child, who places his toys on his father’s gravestone, trying to remember what his daddy looked like before dying for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the high school graduate whose grandfather never came home because he died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the husband who will never hear his wife’s laughter again because she died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the wife of the husband who died in the first days of fighting the Taliban so you could be President.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the daughter who tries to remember her mother who died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

I will share this apology with the parents as they stand beside their eighteen year old son's flag draped coffin that came home from your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the veteran as he is trying to learn to walk again with new legs because he left his real ones in your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the blind veteran because she can no longer read having given her sight fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the soldier who saw his Bible burned in battle fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the construction worker’s widow who lost her husband working in your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with the survivors of September 11 who watched as family members burned to death from terrorist supported by for your religion and your countrymen.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Quran.

            I will share this apology with my children who sleep safe tonight because our military keeps watch and burns books, regardless of their origin, nature, or meaning, when they hold coded messages for terrorist to use and attack this country.

Mr. President, I am sorry.  I have tried to find a reason, a way, and an option to apologize and follow my President’s example.  However, after much consideration to those men and women still fighting in your country, so you can be President, I can not in good conscience express an apology for the burning of a coded, terrorist used, book called the Quran.  Instead, I must apology to those military people having to hear such an outlandish apology from our President.  You are in power today because those men and women died, bled and fought for your country.  There can be no apology for the men and women of the United States Military giving you your freedom while protecting mine.

So, to the women and men of the United States Military, I am sorry that our President apologized for your actions and thank you for burning those coded Qurans.

Since President Obama has set the tone, that America should apologize to the President of Afghanistan for the burning of the Koran.  It is imperative that each American follows this outstanding example and expresses an apology to the President of Afghanistan as well.

Please feel free to share and follow my example as we collectively apologize to President Karzai.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the father who cries because his baby girl, a soldier fighting for your country, will never come home.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the child, who places his toys on his father’s gravestone, trying to remember what his daddy looked like before dieing for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the high school graduate whose grandfather never came home because he died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the husband who will never hear his wife’s laughter again because she died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the wife of the husband who died in the first days of fighting the Taliban so you could be President.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the daughter who tries to remember her mother who died fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

I will share this apology with the parents as they stand beside their eighteen year old son's flag draped coffin that came home from your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the veteran as he is trying to learn to walk again with new legs because he left his real ones in your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the blind veteran because she can no longer read having given her sight fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the soldier who saw his Bible burned in battle fighting for your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the construction worker’s widow who lost her husband working in your country.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with the survivors of September 11 who watched as family members burned to death from terrorist supported by for your religion and your countrymen.

Mr. President, I am sorry our military burned the Koran.

            I will share this apology with my children who sleep safe tonight because our military keeps watch and burns books, regardless of their origin, nature, or meaning, when they hold coded messages for terrorist to use and attack this country.

Mr. President, I am sorry.  I have tried to find a reason, a way, and an option to apologize and follow my President’s example.  However, after much consideration to those men and women still fighting in your country, so you can be President, I can not in good conscience express an apology for the burning of a coded, terrorist used, book called the Koran.  Instead, I must apology to those military people having to hear such an outlandish apology from our President.  You are in power today because those men and women died, bled and fought for your country.  There can be no apology for the men and women of the United States Military giving you your freedom while protecting mine.

So, to the women and men of the United States Military, I am sorry that our President apologized for your actions and thank you for burning those coded Korans.

Live Life!

Have you ever just stopped to think about your life?  I mean really stop, sit down, and think about all the things that make you who you are?  If you haven’t, then you should.  If you have, then maybe you should again. 

We live in a rapidly changing world.  We live in a world where what is new today is old before it reaches us, today.  We live in a world where we expect instant gratification.  Credit cards have given us the instant means to buy what we want, when we want, and how we want it.  To make matters worst, the drive through window has given us the means to eat when we want and how we want.  We could be labeled easily as an instant generation.  When we want something, we want it now.  We don’t want to wait.  Face it, faster is better for who we are.  We want emails instantly, faster internet, faster communication, television all the time.  Unfortunately, in this hoopla of instant satisfaction, something gets left out and that something is life.

If you think back, most people around forty and older can remember a time before the drive through windows, before the internet boom, and before the instant gratification of credit cards.  I can remember has a child saving my allowance for several weeks to buy a special science fiction toy.  I can remember having to decide whether to buy a comic book or a magazine.  I can remember having to stay home to watch a show, and I can remember when the first drive through windows appeared.  But something more important along with all those decisions.  There was life.

Life happened daily.  Children played outside, families had meals together, television time was limited and Saturday morning was about the only time to watch cartoons.  We didn’t have gyms on every corner operating all night long, and in fact most people did not even belong to a gym.  Exercise came from work, walking places, playing games outside, or riding bikes places.  Talking was face-to-face and if you did have a friend around the world, you waited for a letter to arrive and then returned one.    Sadly, there are just some things about life that are gone now.  Or are they?  Maybe they are not so much gone as simply dormant or hidden behind our fast paced, credit and internet fueled lives.  Maybe if we reach deep within our lives we can find life again.

So how can this be done?  I can hear the voices now, “I have bills,” “deadlines,” “things that have to be done.”  Where can I find “life” in all this?  It will take work, but you can find life again.  Here’s a kick start for you:  Take one Saturday (or your day off) with your family.  If you don’t have a family, do it alone.  Take this one day and drop the following items out of your routine:

            No pager, cell phone, radio, internet, television, IPad, Itouch, or anything else electronic.

            No fast food, drive through, shopping, bill paying, work, or review of your current spending.

That being done, now you need to do some of the following:

            Go for a walk, sit back and watch the clouds, cook something on the grill…maybe hot dogs, something easy.  Play a board game with your family, play cards with your family, make homemade ice cream, take a picnic to the park, swing on a swing, feed the ducks at the park, read a book, talk with your spouse (only about life, not work, just something not related to the fast-paced world), go fishing, take some pictures, make tea, shoot a bb gun, shoot a sling shot, ride a bike, etc. 

At the end of the day, you should have avoided all the areas we said “No” to at first and focused on something related to “some of the following”.  Now at the end of the day, get a pen and pad (yeah, those things you write with by hand) and write about your day.  Write how you felt, what you thought, what you did.  If possible, get each person in the family to do this.  Share it with them.  After you have written it, put it away in a sealed envelop.  Go now to your digital calendar or your phone or whatever it is that reminds you to do something and make an appointment to stop, put everything away, open your envelope and read about your day again in twenty days.

In twenty days a funny thing will happen.  You’ll be going about all your fast paced life when that little phone, or IPad goes off with a reminder and it says, “Open your envelope and read about your day.”  You’ll do it and you’ll most likely realized that with the exception of forced exercise or forced situations, you have not just stopped to enjoy the things you did twenty days before.  You’re going to realize that you lived “life” that day.  You’re going to miss that day; you’re going to long for that day like you do for Christmas morning when you were a kid after Santa visited.  You’re going to feel something for that day that is missing on day number twenty.  Now you need to make time each day to have a “life”.  And maybe, just maybe if you try really hard, you’ll find that you can make more days to live “life” each week.  Life is truly good, but without living it, you’ll never know.