#metoo

Earlier this week one of my former students posted on Facebook #metoo. I wasn't sure what it was about. As I scrolled down my feed I came across another, this time with an explanation. Women who post this are saying that they have either been sexually harassed or sexually assaulted at sometime in their life. Over the next few days I saw "#metoo" again and again. It was being shared by former students, old university friends, colleagues, and more. I recognized that while many were coming forward and stating what had happened, there were likely many others who, for various valid reasons, remained silent. A couple men that I am friends with shared their thoughts on it. One admitted he had spoken inappropriately of women in the past, the other that he was saddened by it and hoped that nothing he had ever said or done had made people feel uncomfortable. I added my own support, which is what is prompting this blog entry. I stated how in the past my own insecurities caused me to hold my tongue as I overheard some awful discussions about women. We have seen in the last week a once powerful force in Hollywood crash and burn in reputation and credibility as long known truths about his sexual harassment towards women for decades finally "came to light" when it has long been the industries worst-kept secret. And while I am both dismayed at so many women in my life that have endured this horrible treatment and so impressed by their courage in starting the dialogue by uncovering their shame, I cannot help but feel that it will not be enough.

These sort of on-line social media fueled outrages have been going on for years now. Perhaps I have grown cynical in my old age, but I cannot help but feel that these come and go and little ever changes. Schools and concerts get shot up, and gun laws never change. Football players kneel during an anthem to protest police brutality, and critics deflect the issue to soothe their own discomfort. Even with #metoo there are those that will mock it, complain that men are assaulted to, and get upset because their chosen injustice is not being addressed and therefor this one is not worthy of attention. And it continues. So, sadly, I feel that nothing in the long term is going to change in society with regards to this.

And I can't control society.

But I do control myself.

I do have influence I can use.

I can make a difference, albeit a small one.

You see, these movements do not have to cause gargantuan shifts in societal values. They do not have to topple institutions built upon sexual inequality. They only have to cause one high school science teacher to change his own life, and it is not even that big of a change. I just need to make sure that as a father I teach my daughters to stand up for themselves and not allow a man to touch or harass them in any way, that if a man does that he is the one who did something wrong, not them. I can teach my sons to be stand beside women and defend them, not because they are stronger or better than women but because it is the right thing to do. I can encourage students to be more respectful. I can stand up for women when I hear these disparaging remarks made about them. I can believe the brave woman who comes forward and shares her experience when she posts "me too". I can encourage the women in my life to not paint all men with the same brush as the harassers, but that does not mean that men have no role in this. I can own my short comings and stand with those who have been treated unfairly.

Perhaps others will see my example and examine their own life. Perhaps some will come to a realization that they have contributed to this culture when they call the cheerleaders at the football game "hoochie mamas". Maybe they will realize that when they listen to music where the lyrics treat women like objects for their own pleasure that they are in essence disrespecting their sisters, mothers, and daughters, and maybe then they will turn off that music. Maybe some women will find through my words and actions that they have the strength to stand up to the predators and not excuse their deplorable behaviour. There might even be someone that feel motivated by what I said and decide to make a similar stand and inspire others.

You see, we should not try to change society with these movements, because the task is ultimately too big. Instead, we should focus on making the change within ourselves. We should look within to make the world a better place instead of focusing on within others. We should not just stand with women who have experienced these events, but we should stand with men who have always done the right thing. We should hold these men up as examples of what a real man is. We should allow the change to occur within ourselves, and then watch to see if others do the same. We should take a long, hard, and difficult look at ourselves and honestly ask "What can I do better?", and then do it. If we fail in our attempts to change, then we do it again. And even if you are the only one who decided to make the change within themselves and nobody else changes, then know that the world did not have the power to make you a lesser person. Know that you have the strength to be better and that you did it.

Do you want to change the world? Do you want the world to be a better place? Then stop trying to change people. Stop trying to change the world. Stop taking on the impossible task, and do the even more important work on yourself.

That is how we change the world...

...by only changing ourselves.

Bucket List Item: Garth Brooks

Since I was a child I have loved country music. Among the many artists that I grew up loving, a special entertainer burst onto the scene in 1989 that impacted my life. His name is Garth Brooks, and since he hit the status of super star I have wanted to attend one of his live concerts. Well, as of Saturday, September 2, 2017, that item on my bucket list has been checked off.

Along with some good friends, Heather was online as soon as ticket sales for his announced September concerts went on sale earlier this summer. We bought the tickets that could be considered the worst tickets in the arena. They were behind the stage and up. To be honest, I was a little disappointed that we didn't have anything better, but I was going to go and enjoy myself no matter where I was sitting. I had gone almost three decades wanting to see him live, and I felt that it would be worth it.

The six of us arrived at 7 pm (the show started at 7:30), but the throng of fans waiting to go see him was so large it wasn't until almost 8 that we found our seats. There was a delightful lady named Karyn Rochelle who was singing a beautiful acoustic set while we were climbing the stairs to our seats. It turned out that we were in one of the highest rows in the Saddledome. The stage was an oval and for us sitting behind the stage we had a large screen that showed us everything that was happening up front. I noticed how high up we were and my acrophobia started kicking in. As I did my best to enjoy the opening act, I couldn't help but feel my irrational fear of heights gnawing at my insides. I was figuring that it was going to be a long evening.

The opening act finished, and people were heading to the bathrooms and concession stands, as nobody wanted to miss a minute of the big show. When the countdown timer hit on the big screen and we saw the band members in the shadows take their places as the lights went down. The first chord was struck and the crowd went crazy. Then, on cue, the man himself appeared, and we all lost it. He started with one of his most recent hits, "Lay Down and Dance", and then it was hit after hit. The screens around the stage were raised so we could see everything. The floor of the stage itself became a screen, so those of us in the nose bleed seats could experience our own show. I learned that at a Garth Brooks show, every seat is the best seat in the house.

As we danced and sang along with "Two of a Kind", "Two Pina Colodas", and "Rodeo" (which in Calgary is as big as anything), Garth engaged with the audience as only he can. A couple on the floor became engaged, and Garth stopped the show for a moment so he could congratulate them. He then serenaded them with "To Make You Feel My Love". The show continued and it soon became apparent that the crowd knew all the words to each of his songs. The entire stadium transformed into the greatest karaoke party of all time. When Garth began the first lines of "In Another's Eyes" is started searching the stage for where Trisha Yearwood would make her appearance. As far as country music goes, I loved the 80s and 90s era the most, and of all the artists that I have wanted to see perform, Garth was #1, and Trisha Yearwood lands in the Top 5 easily. Her voice is as sweet and melodious as it has ever been, and the lady still has it. While she only sang five songs, it felt as if a lifetime of musical bliss was passing by. Ending with "She's in Love with the Boy", she showed us all that Trisha is still one of the finest voices in music.

Garth took over again and it was apparent that we wouldn't be "Going Down Till the Sun Came Up". "The Thunder Rolls" was as Magical as I had imagined it would be, and the when he started to strum the opening chord to "Friends in Low Places", I was finally able to participate in the best bar song of all time. As he sang "The Dance", I couldn't help but cry for the only person I knew who was a bigger Garth Brooks fan, and that was my brother TJ. I was sure he was watching from even higher above us, and enjoying every minute of it. When Garth came back for the house cleaning segment, he started playing the songs that fans had wanted that were not on the main show, and did some amazing cover songs. I got chills when he was singing "Amarillo by Morning" and his fiddle player came on to accompany him. We all sang with "The Piano Man" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today". When the show ended, we proceeded to exit the Saddledome. I can't think of how anyone would have been upset with the show, except, perhaps, that it was over.

What makes the Garth Brooks live show such an event is the artist himself. I have seen several big names perform, and have usually enjoyed every show. Garth adds something extra special to it, however, and it truly is an experience to behold. He makes sure that every seat gets something special. He recently announced that he wanted even the upper most seats made available, setting the price at a reasonable $30 each. Some would argue that he is just trying to milk us out of even more money to line his pockets, but then he said all of those sales would go to the Calgary Flames charity. He wouldn't take a dime from opening those extra seats. All he wants to do is sing with his fans. He is an artist who knows that he is where he is because of his fans. He soaks up the cheers and the love and gives it right back. He is all about the music and the fans. He wants to make sure that everyone enjoys themselves. He also has an infectious energy that lasts the whole night long. I felt tired just watching him, and at the end of it all he did look exhausted yet rejuvenated.

His concert is more than a show, more than a party, more than an event. It is a true legend that must be experienced. I don't know how ling he will keep this up, but go see him if you get the chance.

Oh, and my acrophobia? It was gone by the end of his second song.

Even if it ate at me the whole show, Garth is worth it.

My Thoughts and Prayers...

So there is something that has been bothering me a while, and I think now is as good of time as any to address it. There has been a few postings on social media of a variation of a meme. It involves the tendency of a person who, when they hear of something bad that has happened, will respond with the phrase "my thoughts and prayers are with you/them...". The meme is usually of the vein that suggests that such a posting is pointless, worthless, and void of any intent to do good. They suggest that because those who post that only post that and go on with their lives, doing nothing else to improve the situation. They mock those of us who pray for others as fools who want to pay lip service when others suffering while bringing attention to how thoughtful we are in our social media postings.

Well, those memes have been bothering me for a while now. Thankfully, these only seem to appear in postings from public groups and not from a lot of people that I know, but they do bother me. For a while, I was having trouble figuring out why they bothered me so. Earlier this week, I figured it out.

They bother me because they are right...

...and they are wrong. 

Let me address the first claim. Yes, too often those of us who say this are guilty of only doing only the token show of concern by expressing that we will think about and pray for those who are suffering, and then go on with our lives. One of the messages that I agree with in these memes is that if we have the capability of doing more than just simply wishing them well, then we should be doing more. If you were hungry, I could say that I will pray that you have enough to eat. Better would be to give you some food so that you are not hungry anymore. If you were on fire and I had a hose, I think you would rather that I use that hose to put out the fire that is currently scorching your skin before I start saying a prayer for you. When there is action that one can provide and we instead just offer our "thoughts and prayers", then we are missing the point of prayers. I do believe in God, and I believe that He will often answer our prayers by enlisting others to help out. 

Here is where I think these guys are wrong. I feel they falsely assume some key things whenever someone posts that. First, they assume that the person is only posting it and doing nothing else. Sorry, but in a world where we are constantly yelling at each other that we shouldn't wrongly judge each other, they have just wrongly judged some of us. Last year during the wildfires that destroyed a significant portion of Fort McMurray, I saw many people say that they were praying for the people who had fled their homes and businesses. I then saw, over the next several weeks, those same people talk about how they donated blood, belongings, or money. Some opened their homes to family and friends who were displaced. Others went and volunteered at fund raisers to help out those who were less fortunate. They did post about "thoughts and prayers", but followed up with actions that helped ease the situation of those they were thinking and praying about. They talked the talk, and then walked the walk.

So why do they post about it on social media? Isn't that drawing attention to themselves?


That is yet another faulty assumption. There are many reasons why people post the things that they are doing on Facebook and tweet about it later. Yes, some of us do it to draw attention to ourselves, but more often than not the goal is far greater. They want to draw attention to the cause that they are championing. They want to encourage others to do the same. Some of us cannot help because we know not where we can pitch in. Several times I have been made aware of something I could do because someone else told me about it. I would argue that more often than not the intent is to say more of "come join me" and less of "hey, look at me".

If those who are critical of the people "praying" for those in hardships, may I suggest that they are not aware of the power of prayer. Prayer has long been a way for people to seek strength and balance in their lives. I do believe that God does hear us and answers our prayers. I believe that it is a real power, but even if you do not share that belief, there is still a power in prayer. Let us assume that God does not hear or answer prayers, just for the sake of argument. When a person prays repeatedly for something, their mind focuses on it. So let us say that I am praying for the plight of Syrian refugees. As I pray daily for these people, it means that their plight is in the front of my mind. As I go throughout my day, my thoughts are on them. I am, at the very least, subconsciously thinking about them. If something comes across my attention about Syrian refugees, I am more likely to pay attention to it. If an opportunity arises to assist them, then I am more likely to notice it and act on it. Even if there is no God for you, that does not mean that a belief in God and action towards it cannot bring about good things.

Finally, I think the main reason why some of us post that our thoughts and prayers are with our loved ones going through trials, or for complete strangers, it is because there may literally be nothing else that we can do to help them, but at the very least they are letting them know that they are not alone. I know when I have mentioned that I am having some troubles, and someone else responds with "I'm praying for you", then I know that someone out there is rooting for me. I also know that when there is a terrorist attack in some far off country, some of us feel helpless. So we post that our thoughts and prayers are with the people of that country, others will respond in kind, and then I know that I am not the only one trying to make sense of a harsh world.

I know that there is a God. I know that prayer has a power to it that I cannot fully explain, but can confirm that it is a real thing. Others will scoff and scorn that, and so be it. That is their right. Maybe, if you are one that is tired of seeing such nonsense as "my thoughts and prayers are with (insert group/person here), then perhaps you could do us all a favor. Consider that by insulting these people, mocking them, or just yelling at them, you are really no better. As I already mentioned, sometimes the people offering thoughts and prayers are indeed providing shallow lip service, but please consider that many of us are actually doing something good. It may not be how you would do something, but that does not make it bad. Instead of yelling through your device, perhaps you could instead offer an option for these people to do some truly "meaningful" service. Or, if that is not enough, scroll on. Really, think of what you are doing. Taking moments out of your busy life to insult people, thinking that by shaming them will cause them to change their behavior. History shows that such actions rarely achieve anything positive.

And if you still can't stop with your disdain for those of us who share our thoughts and prayers, well, I guess there is only one thing I can do for you.

I'll keep you in my prayers.

Head-Smashed-In, Spirit Enlightened

There are moments in our lives when something comes into clarity and enlightens our spirits and souls. These "aha" moments, as they are often called, can come in the most random of times, and are best when unexpected. Sometimes we search for these moments, but I like it when they come right out of the blue. It's like getting a card from someone you haven't heard from in a long time. I had one of those experiences yesterday at a place called Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump.

Let me provide some of you a bit of an education on the place, as it might help you understand what I learned. A buffalo jump is a cliff in the prairies that our indigenous people would use to secure a large amount of food in a short time. They would chase huge herds of buffalo off the cliff so they could then gather enough food to last them through the winters. Head-Smashed-In is located just outside of Fort MacLeod, in southern Alberta. It is a historical heritage site that teaches visitors about the buffalo jump and the Blackfoot people who used it. 

Photo courtesy of Kevin Andrews

Yesterday, Heather and I took the girls and my brother Kevin to go and visit the site. The place is beautiful, with the interpretive center built into the cliff side. After spending some time out on the jump, we went inside and started looking at some of the displays. A video was playing on a loop that took various aspects of the natural environment and how the Blackfoot people were affected by these. They spoke of the buffalo, the sun, water, and other components. The girls were drawn to it, so I sat with them and watched. As they spoke about fire and wind, something occurred to me. In the video it talked about how the wind and fire often caused problems for the Blackfoot. The fire would destroy their campsites and sometimes claim their lives. The wind could make hunting the buffalo difficult as if the wind changed direction, the animal's keen sense of smell could detect their approach. As the video continued it went on to explain that although the Blackfoot people struggled against these natural forces, they learned that the fire and wind brought a lot of good things for them. The grasses that were burned by the fire would grow back, greener than before. The wind brought the rains that they needed on a dry prairie. The people learned to use these forces to help them thrive in this region. 

There was my unexpected "AHA!" moment. It occurred to me that in life, there are different ways that we deal with the hardships that we encounter. Some of us hide from hardships. We do everything we can to avoid them. Others find themselves in difficult times and completely withdraw within ourselves. We let our heads hang low, often with some audible moaning and complaints, and just wait it out. I saw in my own life times where I was both of these types of people. I would lock myself in my room and lose myself in something else, hoping that the hardship would go away. I would sometimes see a challenge before me, and look for a way to not have to face the challenge in the first place. Too many times my life was a pity party as I trudged through the storm that blew around me.

Then there are those of us who accept the challenges and learn to see the benefit of them. They look to use it as an opportunity to grow and improve upon themselves. They lose their job, so they take the opportunity to re-educate themselves. I have seen how some with financial hardships use it to teach their children how to life a more frugal life. I have witnessed those struck by an illness as a reason to do things that they didn't have time to do before. I have had others show me how to take a broken relationship and turn it into something to shape themselves into someone better. Before long they take their hardship and turn it into a tool that not only improves their own life but the lives of those around them. 

I don't imply that these people see a hardship and run head first into it. It's not like they wake up one day hoping to get fired from the job they love or become involved in a car accident. They do not necessarily love the hardship, but instead welcome the lesson that they are about to learn. I look back on my own life and I can honestly say that I am not thankful to have experienced a divorce or the deaths of beloved family members. I am not grateful to have been let go from various jobs over time, nor to have been sick when I would have rather been healthy. I am grateful for the man that I have become because of these hardships. I am thankful that I chose to improve myself under these conditions so that I can be better suited to help others. While I did not enjoy the difficult times, I know that I would be a much lesser man if I had not experienced them. 

I also don't want to suggest that we actively seek out some types of hardships. I will not suggest people smoke just so they can experience cancer, or drink heavily so they can face the consequences of liver damage. I do not recommend that you marry someone with the intent of going through a divorce because it "builds character". I am instead talking about the trials that we find ourselves in. Sometimes we could have avoided it, and while it is easy to beat ourselves up over it, we should learn from our mistakes so that we can avoid them in the future. When the hardships of life that we cannot avoid hit us, we should move forward and do our best at growing from the experience.

Just like the fire, our trials can often result in something better growing from its ashes. Just like the wind, our difficulties can bring something that is greatly missing in our lives. We can discover so many great things that come out of hardship. Think of the all the "greats" in the world. Not a single one of them had a life that was free of difficulty. In fact, it is often the case that the greater the success story, the more challenging the life was. All of the greatest authors had their work rejected. All of the greatest athletes lost in the beginning. All the greatest minds had ideas fall apart. All the greatest leaders faced adversity. People are not happier because they avoided hardships, but because they thrived during them.

So let me leave you with a few tips that I have learned about how to avoid hardships. First, don't go through them alone. Strength is not shown in standing in solitude, but instead in standing with others. You can make a single pencil out of the strongest of materials, but you can still snap it in half. When the pencil is put in a bundle of others, together they become unbreakable. Look to your family and your friends for support. Ask for help instead of just wishing it would come.

Second, help others. I have learned that there is no better way to get through the pain then by lessening the burdens that others carry. When my first wife left me, I was devastated. I decided that for my birthday, I would celebrate it differently. Instead of looking at how miserable my life was, I decided to do everything that day for other people. I looked for ways that I could serve those around me. I was alone in my house, so I spent little time in it. I chose not to look at Facebook or emails. I waited until the next day to check the mail for birthday cards or check the phone messages. Instead, I went a took every opportunity to make the lives of those around me better. What could have been one of the most depressing birthdays of my life became one of the greatest. 

Third, know that hardships are temporary. Life is not going to be a constant celebration of everything wonderful. It will have lows as well as highs. When you are in the lows, know that the path will slope up eventually. The darkness always gives way to the light. For some, like my brother TJ, physical difficulties will not go away, but the hardship leaves when you learn as he did to move forward with hope and joy. 

So, as I continued throughout the historical site that is Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, I smiled at the bit of clarity that was so apparent in such a noble and proud people. For centuries the indigenous people had it figured out. Don't run from your trials. Don't bemoan them all over Facebook. Just lean on those around you and push forward. As we grow in strength, we grow in insight. As we grow in wisdom, we can endure more. The tough things in life do not defeat us unless we allow them to. Instead, we should allow them to refine us. It's wisdom that is centuries old. We would be fools to ignore it.

For Those Who Had to Leave

It's June. A time for graduation. A time for endings and beginnings. A time for change and a time for looking towards the future. For me, it is also a time for looking back to the past and a time for reflection. It is a time for accountability and recognition. As I look upon the group of students that will be crossing the stage at the end of the month, who will receive their high school diplomas, I have to think of those who are not going to be on that stage. 

One of the unfortunate things about teaching is that there are students that, for one reason or another, leave and complete their schooling at another school. Some leave because of other courses that they want to take that we don't offer here. Some leave because of changes in their family life that makes it better for them to go to school somewhere closer. Sadly, some leave because they faced a certain type of hardship that I wish nobody faced at my school. They left because they were bullied and picked on. A handful of their classmates decided, for some unknown rationale, that this student deserved to be treated like trash. They believed stories about the kid without even checking to see if they were factual, and then decided to take it upon themselves that to make their life miserable. When these students leave and go to another school, a part of me cries. A part of me wishes that I had the power to sweep away their hurt so that they can stay. I teach in a school that values good character, and I feel deeply saddened when my students fail that portion of life by bullying others. 

It is to those students that felt that they had to leave that I would like to address. I have no idea if you will ever read it. I have no idea if you would even care to. Still, maybe what I will say will resonate with someone. Maybe what I say will help someone. Maybe this will help one person choose kindness over cruelty. One can hope. 

I want you to know that I get why you left. I don't like it, but I get it. I support it, even. In many of those cases, as much as I wished that could have stayed that last year or two, I know you left for something better for you. You were not safe from torment here, no matter how hard I tried to make it so. You felt that you needed a fresh start. I agree with you. In a perfect world, I would send away the ones who pushed you out so we could keep the delightful light that you brought to us. Then again, if this world was perfect there would be no reason for you to have left in the first place. In a perfect world, those people would have treated you with the love, dignity, and respect that you deserve. So this world is not perfect, and you left.

I wish that I could have done more for you here. Whenever bullying is brought up in the circles of social media there is a loud voice that demands the pound of flesh from bullies as the only acceptable solution. Schools, in their view, never do enough to stop bullying. What is not understood by these individuals is that it is rarely so cut and dry. Bullies are insidious. They are discreet. They hide in plain sight. They rely on whispers and secret notes, midnight texts and anonymous social media accounts to inflict their harm. Sometimes they falsely accuse their targets as the bully, and it is difficult to tell who is being truthful. When we do catch it, we deal with it as swiftly as possible, but too often it becomes a case of your word against theirs. So while I could not stop them from hurting you, I tried to heal the wounds. I attempted to give you a place and a person that would be a haven for you, but I know that is not always enough. Please know that when you left, I prayed for you. That seemed about all that was left that I could do.

I also want you to know that there is something better that comes. Maybe you already found that. When I was in high school, I did not have the option to leave. I survived thanks to a loving family, caring teachers, and a few good friends. I learned that after I left that place where I had experienced so much hurt that the world was much larger, and that there was a place for me. I could get away from the taunts and harassment and be myself in a way I never could before. I discovered that there are happy endings and joyful moments. I found that more of the world is kinder than what I had known. I learned how small those bullies really were. I discovered that I was stronger and smarter and more valued than I had ever believed. I did hard things and grew from them. I had adventures on my terms, not theirs. I learned that life is more than the gossip and social ranks that perpetuate our lives at times. It sounds cliche, but it really does get better. There will still be bullies and hard times, but you hopefully are learning how to cope. Sometimes it involves making a stand, and sometimes it means going somewhere else. Sometimes it means calling out for help, and sometimes it means just enduring until its over. 

So at the end of this school year, I hope that your life is better. I hope that you are happier. I hope that you have learned some of the things that I learned when I was your age (yes, I actually was a teen once). I hope that you will be able to use the pain you experienced as a reminder, that it will help you respond more with kindness than with harshness. Most of all, I hope you remember that I am rooting for you.

Post #101

When I looked at my Might Elroy blog today, I realized two things. One, I needed to write something before the month ended. Two, my last blog was my 100th posting in this blog. I will admit that the Mighty Elroy has evolved a lot over the years. It used to be a way to keep people up to date with what was going on. I had Top 10 lists for most of the early ones, but that has been largely replaced. Over time I started to use this blog as a means of speaking my mind and using my voice in a way that I have never done before. I never expected my blog to become anything substantial in the limitless world of the internet, and so far that expectation has been largely met. Still, it is nice to know that some of my posts have been read by a few hundred individuals, some of them being strangers. So to celebrate this recent achievement, I thought I would share a few things I learned as I blogged.

1. Simply talking is no guarantee that you will be heard. I have noticed that the blogs that I share via social media seem to generate the most page views. When I put forth an effort to advertise myself a bit, people will be more likely to listen. I think the same is true in life. Many times we find ourselves speaking without anyone else listening. That is not always a bad thing, but it is also worth noting. Just saying something is often not enough to be heard. You have to put yourself out there in the process.

2. You can discuss the difficult topics without being difficult. I have addressed a few noteworthy topics in this blog. Everything from misogyny to how zoos treat their animals, from showing compassion and tolerance to gun violence.  I have shown my dislike of President Trump and my disappointment in the general decline of morals and values in our society. Yet, even touching on these sometimes controversial topics, I have always tried to avoid causing others grief. I have not always been successful, but I think I succeed more often than I don't in those regards. However, even if you try to avoid being difficult...

3. You cannot apologize for giving a message that may be difficult for some to hear. Sometimes I can deliver a message that I feel is important without ruffling other people's proverbial feathers. Other times, however, people are going to get their feathers ruffled no matter how you say something. Hey, I think treating all Muslims with suspicion and fear is misguided and wrong. If my saying so makes you uncomfortable, then I am not worried about that. Perhaps you needed to be challenged in that manner. I have learned that my greatest growth and change comes when I have been challenged and made to feel uncomfortable. 

4. Surprises still happen. I have been surprised by how many people have read and shared my blog, by who has read and shared my blog, and by where they are from. Sometimes I write something and it is hardly looked at, Sometimes I write something and the unlikely happening of more than 100 people read it. I am not sure what the magic formula is, but it is nice to know that I can still be pleasantly surprised.

5. Nice matters a lot too. Sometimes my blog posts that mean the most to people are the ones that are about relatively small things, such as a fun day at the park that taught me a valuable insight. My most read blog was a tribute to an actor that was important to me growing up. Bring the niceness. It does more good than you may think it will.

6. Final thing I have learned, is that blogging is fun. Sometimes it can be uncomfortable as you put a piece of yourself out there, but it is fun. If nothing else, you make a mark. It may not be a significant mark, but you have made one.

I hope you enjoyed everything I have written so far, and that you will continue to enjoy what I put forward in the future. 

Old Friends, New Tradition

A month ago an idea popped into my head. I went to a closet and took out a large plastic bin. Opening the lid, I gazed down at an ensemble from my childhood. One by one, I pulled these memories from their storage bin and looked upon them. These were some of my friends as I was growing up. They were companions on many great adventures. We would explore the world from the top bunk of my bedroom. We would fend off the bad guys with our wit and strength. We would face perils and dangers by sticking together. As I placed each one on the floor beside me, I smiled sadly at a childhood that, while not always good, was mostly comfortable. During the difficult times, these valiant compatriots would be there for me.

There was Bob, a handsome brown bear wearing a blue jacket. Robert the Rabbit with his brown coveralls. Husky, a white dog that is definitely looking his age, much like a grizzled veteran of many play times. Next out was Kermit the Frog and Cookie Monster, both of whom had the black ink of their pupils faded with time (losing their eyesight in their old age, I suppose). Bert and Ernie followed, both looking worn and loved. Marty the Monkey with his sown on green hat. Actually, I thought to myself, I have to reconsider his name. Marty the Chimp. That's more like it. Marty doesn't have a tail, but he does look like a monkey rather than an ape. OK, he lost his tail in an accident before finding his way to my bedroom. That works.

Last, I pull out my four favourites. First, Barney the Bison. He is looking as solid and trustworthy as ever. Still missing one of his felt hooves, but that is Barney. Not only was Barney strong, but he was wise and compassionate. Next is Susie Bunny. She was an Easter gift from my grandparents, I think. Her gray fur shows a bald patch in a couple places, but her pink jelly-bean-like nose is as bright as ever. She was adventurous and fun. Sammy Seal follows, All white with a black  nose. He was always the playful one, often getting himself into trouble that the others would help him out of. He has fiercely loyal, and became quite responsible as he grew older. Last is the smallest, a little lion I named Lambert, after the old Disney cartoon. Lambert is brown with a frilly colourful collar. He was the youngest of the group, quite often unsure of himself. I guess that is why I identified with him so much. Though he was the smallest and weakest of the clan, he was also the bravest. He was the one who faced his fears the most often, and he was looked upon fondly by the others.

I looked over my old friends. I greeted each one with a bit of sadness, as I had not taken the time to look at them in years. I speak to them, believing that they will respond while knowing that they cannot. They speak back to me. They are excited to see me. They understand that they have been put away but not forgotten. They know that they were loved my me, and still are. They seem...smaller than I remembered. They are happy that I am doing well. I chuckle and hold Barney close, remembering the feelings and emotions without remembering the specifics and details. The stories and adventures are all blurred in the annals of time, but the feelings are rekindled.

A pair of pitter-pattering feet run into the room. Two little angelic faces look up at me.

"What's that Daddy?" Barbara says.

"What dat, Daddy?" Hope echoes.

"These are some old friends of mine," I explain. "When I was a little boy, they comforted me when I was lonely. They protected me when I was scared. They stayed with me when I was sick. I hadn't seen them for a long time, so I thought I would have a little visit."

"Can I see one?" Barbara asked.

"I see!" Hope demanded.

I look down at my old friends. They seem to wink at me, as if to tell me what they want.

I look at Hope's bed, full of stuffed toys given to her in just three short years. Barbara's bed is fuller still. Surely they wouldn't want these old things, not when they have stuffies that are newer and less worn. Still, they look excited about seeing Daddy's past. I smile. I know exactly what comes next. In all honesty, I was hoping that this would happen as it did.

"Barbara, this is Barney Bison and Susie Bunny," I said as I handed over my two cherished friends. "And Hope, this is Sammy Seal and Lambert Lion."

Each daughter takes her two new toys into their arms. Hope, being not quite three years old, looks at Sammy and Lambert with curiosity, and then hugs them close to her chest when she sees her big sister do the same with Barney and Susie. Hope climbs into her bed with her new toys and gets ready to go to sleep. Barbara runs to her mother and shows her "Daddy's friends". I pack up the rest of the crew, wondering if and when they will be passed on to someone from the next generation of kin. Barbara passes by, going into her room. She looks at me and tells me "Don't worry Daddy. I'll take care of them and you can visit whenever you want!".

Smiling, I thank her for her generous offer. In the days following, Hope has Sammy and Lambert as part of her collection. Nothing special. Barbara, however, has taken a special shine to Susie and Barney. They are important to her, and she gives me regular updates. Sometimes I see her put them to bed in a makeshift cot of blankets that she spreads out on the flood. Often, they accompany her into our room in the mornings when she wakes up before us. She always lets me know she is taking good care of my friends. That's nice, because they took good care of me.

I must confess, I miss parts of my childhood. These stuffed toys, decades old now, were important to me because other parts of my childhood were not. They provided friendship, outlets for imagination, and hours of enjoyment. I know they are just inanimate objects, but they were there when human friends were not. Yes, I was teased by some when they found out I had "dolls". After a while, I just kept that part of my life to myself. Something that was mine alone, and now is shared with my daughters. I hope that the girls will get the same happiness from them, without the loneliness that necessitated it. I know that ultimately they will end up discarded at some point. Maybe not with the girls, but eventually. Not much lasts forever in this world. Not my friends, not my childhood. But how long things like this last is not what is most important. Instead, it is the impact on our lives that matters. For me, a small collection of stuffed toys brought happiness. For my daughters and grandchildren, perhaps the magic can continue.

If nothing else, it was a nice moment.

One of Those Blogs

I have been blogging for quite a few years now. Some times I take it quite seriously, other times, not so much. My blog evolved from an online journal that allowed friends and family to stay updated with the happenings of my life, to a forum where I would share things that I found interesting, to more lately a place for me to share some of my thoughts and perspectives. I have tackled issues such as misogyny, racism, religious persecution, the role of education, zoos, and other interesting topics. As I was pondering about the subject of my next posting, I realized that there was one popular blog topic that I have yet write about. In fact, I am surprised that I have not written about this yet. This type of blog comes in many different forms and styles, and covers a myriad of different subjects, but it is one that bears addressing. I am talking about the Guilt Blog.

You know what I'm talking about, right? Pick any given topic, from parenting to carpooling, from diet and exercise to tipping. Research blog posts on that topic, and you will undoubtedly find an entire Google page full of blogs that will tell you that everything you know or do with regards to that topic is one thing: WRONG! Yup, you are sleeping incorrectly. Everything you do as a parent will in some way traumatize your children. Every kind of food is both good and bad for you, depending on who you ask, but regardless of which you are eating it wrong. You are worshiping God wrong, you are going to church wrong, you are a fool for believing or not believing. Every exercise known to man (and a few that aren't) are both going to give you the body that you always dreamed of having and are preparing you for an untimely premature death. And politics, oh, politics. According to bloggers everywhere there is no end to the conspiracies and ideals around political viewpoints. Everything is both "alternative facts" and "gospel truth". I am likely guilty of this myself at times. It is just so easy when you are writing on the internet to present your opinions as "factual". Sure, when discussing things like compassion, bullying and human rights, it is easy to assume that you have reached a moral high ground. When I read these types of blogs, it is easy to have other people convince you and form your opinion for you. We see something that we are doing that suddenly, when a certain type of light is shone upon it, becomes the worst thing ever you could do. These viewpoints are often backed up with convincing arguments, the type that are stated with so much confidence and statistics (65% of which are likely made up anyways), that we start to doubt if we are good and wholesome people. Opinion pieces and editorials have become some strange sort of litmus test towards how you are doing in all aspects of your life. It is mind boggling at best, and destructive to the soul at its worst.

Since it looks like I will be making a guilt blog about guilt blogs. let me identify the typical, almost cliche tricks of the trade. First, use of smarmy humor (let's see...ah, yes. Stating that 65% of statistics are made up. Smarmy humor, check). Second, quotation marks and capitalized words for emphasis (WRONG! and "alternative facts". Check!). Third, numbered lists to provide bullet points for people to check off (Hey, that's what I'm doing right now! Check!). Finally, a picture with a quote from the blog to provide a quick little literary equivalent of a sound bite. Hmmmm, don't have that yet. Well, here we go.

Finally, a picture with a quote from the blog to provide the literary equivalent of a sound bite

OK, one more list. When I read through these types of blogs, I find that by using some critical thinking skills and remembering some important reminders I can emerge from the end of the article with my esteem and self-worth intact. Here we go.

1. Don't forget, the vast majority of these are opinions of other people. Yes, the person may be a celebrity, a family member, or an expert in their field, but typically they are opinions. Quite often opinions are going to be shared by like-minded people, but that does not mean that they are necessarily correct. Nor does it mean that they are wrong. They are just one person's perspective that may or may not be relevant to you.

2. Understand the bias of the writer. Each writer has a bias, and it is very difficult to avoid it when writing. When it comes to these types of blog posts, it is impossible. If you can get to the root of the bias, it might help you understand where the writer is coming from. This can help you sort out what advice is good, and what is useless to you at the present moment.

3. Take only what will help you. I think that if after reading the article you feel that you are a horrible person who will only be redeemed if you do everything that the article you just read tells you to do, then you are not being helped by the article. Read through the article and ask yourself what in that article is actually something that can help you. Maybe something in the article is actually something that can help you improve. Great! That does not mean that every word is written especially for you. Just take the few things that provide you what you need and leave the rest.

4. Don't confuse finding improvements to make in your life with being a failure. Is it possible that I have made mistakes when raising my children? Yes, absolutely it is. In fact, I can guarantee it and provide you lists of evidence to support that statement. Does that make me a bad father? I hope not. So if I read an article about parenting and find one suggestion that makes sense to me to implement to try to be a better parent, this does not imply that I am a bad parent. Now, if you are constantly smacking your kids around in drunken stupors while depriving them of adequate food, then yes, you are a bad parent. Actually, you are a horrible parent and likely a horrible human being. But since that is likely not to be the case with you, then accept that you are not perfect and move on with your life. Make an improvement as you see fit, but please do not assume that you are the worst at everything because you can do a little better here and there. 

So, I hope my guilt blog helps you with future guilt blogs. And if you disagree with anything that I have written here, well, that is just fine by me. All I'm saying is, be true to yourself.

Educate Yourself

I came across a video a while back. It was shared by a guy I knew several years ago. The video features an angry young man who was voicing his disappointment about the education he received in school. During his rap (for that is how many youth choose to express themselves these days) he went on to denounce the educational institution and its teachers for filling up his mind with useless information instead of teaching him more important life skills. He decried and derided the wonders of the world around him that he was taught, things like how the cells, which are the building blocks of life, work, or the properties of light that allow us to see and live. He claims that the literary works of Shakespeare and the lessons of history are trivial. He laments the lack of knowledge in the law, finances, and how to get a job. I found his educational tirade, to be honest, annoying. At the time I was not sure what exactly was irking me so much, but I felt I needed to know more about this young man and what message he was trying to share.

I noticed that the video ended rather abruptly, so I went on YouTube to see if there wasn't a full length video available. Well, I did, and he goes on to rant about how the school system had failed him. At the end of his video, he gave a very poignant message: "Don't stay in school!". Yup, that was one very angry young man. To an extent, I get where he is coming from. He wants his learning to be relevant. He wants to learn the skills in life that are necessary to be successful in life. He wants to learn things that will be useful. However, and this is the main aspect of my writing today, he seemed to be willing to place the blame on every person involved in the system except for the most important one. You see, he believed that the school, his teachers, the parents, and everyone else at fault for this, but never once did he consider the most important source of failure in his anger. He didn't look at himself.

I have been teaching for 15 years now. I have literally had the pleasure of seeing thousands of students come and go in my classroom. I would regularly have students ask the universal question: "Why do I have to learn this stuff?", although sometimes they used stronger words for "stuff". Now, as a teacher, I will happily claim that not everything that we teach in school is going to be applicable in the day-to-day life of our students. I will also admit that there are important skills and knowledge that we do not teach in school, but I would suggest that such deficiencies are small. I also feel that different school systems will have different curriculum, and it may well be that this young man went to a school system that had many problems in that department. Having said all that, if I had the opportunity to sit down with this chap, I would ask him a few pointed questions.

First, I would ask him what he feels is the role of the education system and schools is. By the sound of things, I suppose he would say that the school is to teach him everything that he would ever need in life. I would follow up by asking what those things were. He would likely give me the list of things he rapped about. I would counter with how he knew he would need those things. It sounds like he didn't know what he needed until after he was done with school. So I would then suggest that perhaps it is not the school's job to anticipate what every single student is ever going to need and then teach that student exactly what was needed. It is a herculean task at best. Instead, perhaps, I would offer that the job of an educational system is not to give students exactly what they think they will need, but instead to teach them how to give themselves what they will need. The job of a school is to teach you one important skill that will prepare you for your whole life and all of its challenges. My job, as a teacher, is to teach my students how to learn. 

Now, this may be where some teachers and school systems fall short. I would agree that there is likely those within my profession who will disagree with me on this. Just hear me out for a moment. While this may seem like a simple task, it is by no means simple. To teach someone else to learn is going to take years. It is going to take failures. It is going to take work. Most importantly, it is going to take the student buying in to the idea. I remember a student I had many years ago in Saskatchewan. At the time I was teaching in a small rural school where everybody had to take chemistry and biology. I was the teacher of those classes. This particular young lady stayed behind after the first class and asked if I had a minute. She went on to explain to me that she did not like chemistry and biology. She did not need the courses for what she wanted to to, which was to become an architect. Like this young man, she did not want to waste her time with things that were going to be useless to her in the future. She then looked at me, waiting for me to say something. I could tell that she was of a strong spirit, and one who would not take kindly to the general platitudes that teachers give to students. I thought about it for a moment. I then carefully chose my next words.

"So what are you going to do about the situation?" I asked her. 

She seemed a bit surprised by this response. I went on to explain to her that in this situation, I could not lobby to ask her to be taken out of the course. If I did that with her, then other students would likely line up and demand that they also be allowed to do something else. Even if I thought that she could do some distance learning program, the principal would not allow it, and the principal had the final say. I told her that I appreciated her honesty and hoped that she would be equally appreciative of my position, so again, I asked her what she was going to do about it. I elaborated by suggesting she look for how to make the best out of this situation. 

She thought about it for a moment, and then gave me this reply:

"I guess I could just work really hard, get as high a mark as I can to help me get scholarships, and then not worry about having to take these courses again."

I was only a second year teacher, and it would take me a few more years teaching before I would realize how profound her response was, although I did feel that her answer was about as excellent as one could get. I told her I liked her answer and that I would be here to help her in any way that I could. She thanked me (but to be honest, I think she may have been a bit disappointed at the time), and went on her way. 

Over the next couple years I did my best to teach her biology and chemistry. While she was not at the top of her class, she was consistently in the 80s and 90s. Her demeanor in class changed over the two years I taught her. She showed a lot of growth and aptitude for the material. For the very last unit exam of Biology 30 I asked that class an open-ended question: "what was the most important thing that you learned in biology these last two years". After the test, I read each one and shared them with the class. many of them were about things like genetics, organ systems, or ecology. Several were humorous. A few were just straightforward and brief. Hers, however, I didn't share, but I did ask her to stay afterwards. I told her that I didn't read hers out loud to the class because it was my favourite. She had written that the most important thing she had learned was that she could actually come to enjoy biology and chemistry, and that despite her poor attitude in the beginning she appreciated my patience and enthusiasm that allowed her to come to love biology and chemistry. She learned that she could enjoy learning about things that she didn't necessarily need to know, and that she could be good at it. I told her that because of this experience she was going to be successful at anything she put her mind to doing in the future. Part of learning is to open our minds to things that we hadn't considered being important, to discover that to learn about more than just what we think we will need can bring fulfillment.

Going back to the angry young man in the video that prompted this blog entry, I would ask him why he didn't choose to pursue the knowledge in the areas that he wanted to know. If learning how to pay taxes was so important, did he ask anybody to teach him that? If he wanted to learn parenting skills, did he sit at home and expect someone to come along to show him the way? If he wanted to learn about taking care of himself, did he ask someone to help him? Or did he expect the world to cater to his desires? I have noticed that in today's world many of us (not just young people) are accustomed to having everything that we want as close to instantaneous as possible. We seem to feel more entitled for what we want and need and are less willing to put forth any effort in getting what we desire. I felt that this young man felt cheated by the system, but what did he do to fix it? As far as I could tell, he dyed his hair, learned how to rap, and made a YouTube video to whine about his problems. Part of learning means that we learn how to take responsibility for our future. It means we are ultimately responsible for our education. If the system fails us, then we need to actively seek out the knowledge and training that we desire. We don't sit at our pity party and expect the world to give us everything we want.

I couldn't help but find it ironic that he was rapping about how useless Shakespeare's classics were. Right there was one of the most striking examples of how out of touch this young man was. Shakespeare was a master of using rhyming and rhythm to convey messages and commentary about the world around him. This young man was using the current evolution of Shakespeare's way of communicating to complain about having to learn Shakespeare. Part of learning is to know where we have been. We learn of history to learn of past mistakes. We learn of past ideas and approaches to appreciate how far we have come.

I hope that if I ever get the chance to talk to this young fellow about his angst that he will keep an open mind. I hope that he will listen to what I have to say. I hope he will see that I do not entirely disagree with him, but that in a large way he is mostly angry with himself. Too often I have had to tell students that if they think they deserve the best things in life, they must also be willing to give the best of themselves. And most importantly, I hope he chooses to change his final message from "Don't stay in school" to "educate yourself".

I'm Not Supposed to Be Here

The place: Hamburg Germany. The time, the middle of the Second World War. A man, Heinrich Hassforther, was at work in his government office. One of his responsibilities was to process lists of people. Sometimes those lists were suspected enemies of the Nazi state. Reasons for being on this list are many. It may have been hiding a Jewish family, or even befriending one. It might have been for listening to the BBC on the radio. If you had said something that could be considered anything less than full devotion to the Fuhrer, your neighbors could report you and you could find yourself on this list. Again and again the lists would come across Heinrich's desk. He would drink his coffee, read the names on the list, and forward it to the appropriate department in the government. Heinrich was a man of simple pleasures. He was not a fan of the Nazi regime and what it stood for. He had no personal issues with many people, but he did not see himself as someone influential enough to cause any great amount of change. His first wife, Margarethe, had died weeks before the war had started. His eldest son, Walter, had been conscripted into the army. He was sent to the Russian front, where at the age of 20 he was killed by a sniper as he relieved his lookout man in the tank he was assigned to. This would turn out to be a blessing as most soldiers in that tank division died a more drawn out and excruciating death due to exposure and starvation. Heinrich felt sad for the loss of his son in a war he did not believe in, but he was a common man with a common job and couldn't do anything to prevent Walter from serving in the army. His second child, Annmarie, was married to Heinz Beckmann. At least Heinz had enlisted in the merchant marines before the war started, so the chances of him dying in combat were low. Annmarie, being younger and more idealistic, was doing some small things to stand against the hatred that had engulfed their country. She had organized some of her neighbors in knitting mittens, scarfs, and other items of clothing, and then in the dead of night would sneak them into the outdoor pens where the Russian POWs were being held. The fact that his daughter was trying to keep the same people who were responsible for her brother's death from freezing during the cold winter nights was not lost on Heinrich.

One particular morning Heinrich came to his desk and proceeded to go through the papers in his pile. Page after page, name after name, he read. He would take a sip from his coffee every time that he felt his attention start to wander. Another sheet, another list of names. Once in a while a name would show up that appeared to be familiar. Most of the time he would not be able to identify the familiarity he felt. Was it an old school friend? The name of the son of his neighbor three doors down from his? The baker that he bought bread from for several years before they had moved? Not everyone on these lists would disappear. At least, Heinrich believed such to be true, but he knew full well that many of them did. What happened to those who did disappear was always up to speculation. Some were rumored to have been quietly disposed of on the outskirts of town. Others felt that they were sent to some of the work camps that the Jews and other undesirables were sent to. Some, he suspected, would catch wind of the SS coming for them and escaped into the countryside. A few would even claim that those who disappeared were simply relocated to another town where their skills could better serve the war movement. Still, there were those who would...

Heinrich stopped, and reread the last two names he had come across on the sheet of paper in his hand.

"Beckmann, Annmarie...Beckmann, Heinz".

Heinrich stared at the names. His daughter. Her husband. Their names seemed to shine out to him despite being typed in the same font as countless others had been. Heinrich looked around to see if any of his co-workers or superiors were watching him. He looked at the names again, and checked the address in a vain hope that another couple with the exact same names living in a different part of the country had been put on this list. With sadness he verified that they were indeed the names of his daughter and son-in-law. He looked at the paper with a concern that seemed to envelop him. He had a job to do, and doing that job had kept him unnoticed by those who were compiling these lists. He wondered if anyone knew that he was the father of this young woman. The idea that this was somehow a test of his loyalty, that someone was watching to see if he would choose country over kin. He looked around again. No one seemed to be paying him any attention. He set the piece of paper down on his desk, and lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

He hesitated. An idea began to form within his desperation. He looked down at the black liquid and saw a glimmer of hope. It would be easy to make this look like an accident. He was known for being accurate and rarely made an error in his work. Was he not owed one little slip up every now and then? It would not be too out of character of him, for everyone loses their focus once in a while. An egg gets dropped while baking, a toe gets stubbed while walking, a list of names gets ruined with a coffee spill...

Deciding on his course of action, Heinrich lowered the cup onto the desk, He set the paper with the names of his daughter and her husband beside it. Then, as normal looking as possible, he reached across his desk and bumped his arm against the cup, knocking it over. Its contents covered the corner of his desk, including the list of names that contained his future. Uttering a few cuss words, he swept the soggy papers into the trash bin nest to his desk, fetched some rags, and cleaned up the rest of the mess. The entire internal dilemma seemed to last an eternity for Heinrich, when in reality it had taken perhaps a full minute. Still, Heinrich had to still himself and calm himself down. He looked around again. Nobody seemed to have noticed the entire ordeal. Everyone had their faces down towards the report they were working on or the assignment they had been given. Heinrich took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and willed his nerves to calm down. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes, took the next sheet of paper and began to read through the names.

It was a significant amount of time before Heinrich felt that the worst was behind him. Never again did the names "Annmarie and Heinz Beckmann" appear on his lists. He made sure to tell them to be extra careful with their activities and with what they said in public. It wasn't until after the war that he told his daughter what had happened. By that time, Heinz and Annmarie had their two children born, a daughter named Barbara and a son named Michel. As Germany rebuilt itself out of the ashes of war and tyranny, many of its citizens looked across the ocean for a new start. For Heinz and Annmarie, Canada called out to them. They emigrated to Canada in 1954, to Toronto. Barbara would meet a nice young man named Charles while she attended university. When she had finished her education degree, they married. She taught a few years in Toronto while Charles finished some grad studies, and they moved west to Alberta. After a couple of miscarriages, they were blessed to welcome a little girl into their lives. a couple of years later they waited for their next child to be born.

On a day in late June, in Edmonton, Alberta, a small baby boy was born to Charles and Barbara. Unlike their experience with their daughter, some serious complications arose. Barbara's health was shattered due in some part to negligence of the hospital staff. In addition to that, the baby boy was struggling with his own health issues. The doctors told Charles and Barbara to give the baby a name quickly, for it was looking like he would not survive for long. Barbara would not accept the doctor's diagnosis. She stayed up as late as she was physically able to, feeding her son as much as he would take. When she became so exhausted, her loving husband would take over so she could catch a few moments of sleep. As soon as she was awake again, she took the little boy back into her arms and continued to care for him. While the baby's health eventually recovered, her health did not. She was saddened to learn that she would never be able to conceive anymore children. She never complained about any of this, as she wanted to make sure that her son was raised properly. She did not see the cost to her health to be a great sacrifice when compared to the life of her son.

Now those of you that know me quite well may have figured out the connection between these two stories and the title of this post. For those of you that are still wondering, let me tell you.

I'm not supposed to be here.

I will confess that some of the details are my own interpretation and imaginings of the events that happened to my great-grandfather, Heinrich. What we do know is that he did work in a government office, he did process the names of those who were suspected enemies of the state, and he did make a list disappear when he found the names of his daughter and son-in-law on it. I am not sure when it happened. I think it was after his son Walter had died (that part of the story is as true as I know it to be), although it could have happened before. I do not know with any certainty what thoughts went through his head, nor exactly how he destroyed the list. I do not know for certain what would have happened to Heinz and Annmarie Beckmann had Heinrich processed the list with their names on it like he should have done. The vast majority of those people were never heard from again, so I can make a safe assumption that they likely would not have had their two children. This means that Barbara Beckmann, my mother, would not have been born. This means that I would not have been born to Charles and Barbara Andrews.

That's one reason why I am not supposed to be here.

The other has to do with my own birth. Yup, the baby boy was me. These details I am more certain of, as both of my parents have shared them with me on several occasions. I was not given all the details at once, and as I have aged I have been told more (a few details I have left out for my own reasons). Suffice it to say, the medical professionals had pleaded with my mother to focus on her own health, as  my life was likely not going to be a long one. For people who knew my mother, they would not be surprised at her stubbornness. I do not know for certain if I would have lived or not had my mother not tried to do everything she could to keep me alive, but my odds were not good.

The second reason why I am not supposed to be here.

There are likely a thousand more reasons as to why I should not be here. A choice made by an ancestor, a mistake averted by a stranger. I think of the only car accident I have been involved in which had I been traveling a little faster would have ended up more on the tragic side than it did. I think of narrowly avoiding being trampled by a rather large and panicky cow when I was 13. I think of a choice I almost made as a teenager that would have ended my life much sooner than expected, and how grateful I am to have chosen differently. Some may suggest that I am exaggerating the events I described to imbue some sort of glorious purpose of my existence. So be it. Think what you will, but know this: I share these stories for a few reasons.

First, to provide a record of these events for my children and future grandchildren (fingers crossed). Second, to share a part of who I am with those who are interested. And third, to share a message. These two stories are connected by lineage, but I see another thread that needs to addressed. Too often we face choices in our lives that, while important to us in the here and now, can have an impact on the future that is harder to envision. My great grandfather could have been caught in his small act of defiance, but he chose to act in that manner anyways. My mother could have been excused for giving up on the seemingly lost cause of her sickly infant, but she chose to act in the manner that she did anyways. I do not know if my great grandfather knows of the good he did by allowing my grandparents to have a family. I do not know if my mother realizes the number of lives I have touched for good because of her sacrifice in giving me life. I do not know fully how I impact my student who is struggling against depression, my family member who has fallen on hard times and is receiving assistance from me, or if the time I took to brighten a complete stranger's day with an act of kindness will lead to some wonderful in that person's life. What I do know is that the chances that wonderful things will develop from the good things I try to do each day will be zero if I do nothing. I may not save the soul if I try, but I know I won't save it if I walk on by and do nothing. I never met my great grandfather, but he is a hero to me. My mother has been gone for over 15 years, and she is a hero to me. There are so many who have touched my life in ways that they may never know or understand who are heroes to me.

If I have been such a person to you, then take a moment to silently thank Heinrich Herman Hassforther and Barbara Magdalena Andrews for their parts in making me who I am today. Are you looking for a miracle? Have I blessed your life in any significant way? Have I done anything that has made your life brighter and happier? If I have, then you have your miracle, because as I stated before, I'm not supposed to be here.