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.

What I Learned at the Park

This evening, Heather and I took the girls to Bowness Park. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was shining brightly, there was a nice breeze that kept the temperature pleasant, and the playground was full of families, everyone enjoying the moment. Barbara was soon talking to other children and asking them to play with her made up games. Hope was happily trotting up and down the toddler structure, a big smile beaming on her face. Instead of hovering over my kids I decided instead to just hang back and watch the girls go.

Gradually, my focus started to shift to the other children and families in the park with us. As I looked around, I started to notice the people around me. There were people of all different kinds with us. A variety of ages and ethnicity. I heard four different languages being spoken (at least), and a number of accents that suggest native languages might have been more. I watched the children play and laugh, no rhyme or reason, just random play and laughter. The noise was almost musical, infectious, and enthralling all at once. I couldn't help but smile.

As the children played, I began to think about how our world is today. Perhaps I am being nostalgic and looking back at the past through rose-colored glasses, but I cannot help but feel that our society has gradually been losing something important. I feel that we are more divided than we ever have been before. I look at how politics, religion, social justice, and economics separates us from each other. We argue with each other more often than not. Technology that was supposed to connect us more seems to keep us apart as we fight and bicker about things that sometimes feel so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. How did we get this way? Have we always secretly been this way, and my eyes are only opening now? Quite frankly, I just don't know.

I thought that while I was in university, our world had bridged divides, removed the things that kept us apart. People could have faith and belief without having to justify it. Communities would come together in tragedies. People celebrated differences more, and compromises were easier to find. We found joy in positivity. Yes, we had problems. There were still some who were marginalized. There were still some who were outcasts. No, it was not a utopia a mere decade or so ago, but it feels like we have lost more ground than we gained. It seems as though we bring one group into inclusion by pushing another one out. We open the proverbial closet for one, and shove another in to fill the void. Many preach tolerance of all, but act as if it is only for those who agree with them. Debate has become who can get the bigger zingers in, and one-liners seems to have replaced rational thought.

And the children played on. I started yearning for a fresh start. Heather walked over, and I said "I wish the world was more like this playground". Heather agreed. Nobody was looking at each other with suspicion or mistrust. The children played with whoever they wanted, however they wanted, for as long as their parents were willing to push back bedtime. Barbara was asking any kid that came by if they wanted to pilot her spaceship (the play structure) while she checked the engines. Nobody talked about not playing with certain children, just to be mindful of everyone so that we all had fun. Soon, Barbara was on the spider web merry-go-round with about a dozen other kids, and she wanted me to make it spin really fast. Soon, all the kids were encouraging me to go faster and faster while their parents watched with smiles and laughs, no phones recording anything. We were a group of people from many backgrounds, just enjoying the nice weather and the time spent with family.

I wish the world could have seen us this evening. We were not necessarily becoming BFFs or anything, but we were united. We didn't know each other's names, but we were pleasantly chatting it up. We watched our own kids and watched out for everyone. For a brief moment, the problems of the world was replaced with the laughter of children. We could be whoever we wanted to be, not just the labels our society placed on us. We could enjoy our families without having to apologize for anything. We just watched our children play together. There were only tears when parents had to tell their kids it was time to go (for Barbara, even the promise of ice cream couldn't hold back the crying). As we left, there were more families coming with their kids, and I expect that they also had fun with everyone.

I climbed into the van, and when I turned the ignition on, the news emanated from the radio with stories of elections and refugees, of politics and economics, of fear and hatred. It did not take me long to replace it with a seemingly fitting Disney hit, "Let It Go", and I wish our world can simply let go of the divisions and intolerance. Next on the playlist was "Rainbow Connection", and I began to hope that we would have more real connections. As we pulled into McDonalds for some well deserved treats, I once again resolved that the only way to change the world is to be that which I want the world to change to. If I want the world to be kind, then I must be kinder. If I want the world to be more accepting, than I must be more accepting. If I want more love in the world, then I must show more love to the world I live in.

I look forward to going back to the park.

Stirring the Pot or Making a Stand

So a few weeks ago I noticed a bit of a trend with articles friends of mine were posting. You see, here in Canada we are less than a week away from the federal election, and more than any other time in history I have found emotions to be running high. One of the main issues that is pushing its way to the front is the idea of national security, but this has de-evolved into a very focused concern with ISIS and radicalised Islamic terrorism. Because there are a lot of legitimately scared people out there, anti-Muslim rhetoric is seeping into what a lot of people are posting. Suffice it to say, I felt prompted to say something about it on Facebook. Here is what I posted on September 23.

OK, I need to get something off of my chest. I apologize for the length of the following status update. I know that many will see the length of this and scroll down to something more entertaining and easier to absorb, and so be it. This is not one of those manipulative “If you really care about X you will like and share” postings, but I do ask you to give this a read because I feel it is an important message that is not being heard enough these days. I thank all of you in advance who will bear with me and read the whole thing, and I understand why some of you won’t.

I have seen a lot of posts these last several weeks on the growing crisis in the Middle East and Europe with respect to refugees. In many of these posts, I am seeing a disturbing trend in these articles that makes me wonder if some of my friends are actually fully reading these articles before sharing them. These articles are reporting on terrible things some of these refugees are doing in Europe. There are implications that some of the refugees being ISIS members who are using this tragedy to infiltrate western countries and continue their war from within (I point out that the articles range in numbers from a few to the majority). There is rampant speculation and mistrust towards Muslims in these articles, and this is what worries me the most. In these articles they talk about the threat that Muslims pose. Note, these articles are not saying "radical Muslims", "extremist Muslims", are even "some Muslims". They say Muslims, as if all Muslims threaten our lives and culture.

To my friends that have fallen into this trap of scaremongering (either unknowingly or willfully), I ask you to consider my perspective. I prefer not to say that I have Muslim friends, because I simply see them as friends. I hate saying I teach Muslim students, because they are simply my students. I don't like saying that I have "Muslim neighbours" because to me, they are my neighbours. However, since many people are talking about Muslims in general terms, then I will speak on behalf of my friends, students, and neighbours who happen to be of the Muslim faith. What I have to say is STOP LUMPING THEM INTO THE SAME GROUP AS THOSE WHO ARE SPREADING TERROR! These are people that I love and respect, because, big surprise, they love and respect me. Many of them have moved to this country to find a better way of life and have sacrificed much to adapt to this country and its culture. They are good, honest people who simply want to live their life and practice their religion in peace. Yes, there are Muslims who try to impose their values and views on others, but that is true of EVERY GROUP, whether it be cultural, religious, or other. They do not deserve to be told to "change the way you dress, the way you speak, etc. or get out of our country". They do not deserve it! Besides, as North Americans, who are we, all immigrants in our own right, to make such a demand when the indigenous peoples of this land were subjugated to our way of life in what was often a brutal and violent manner?

To my friends, I ask you to be careful of what you are posting. When you share articles that discriminate against Muslims, you are participating in the discrimination of people that I care about, and this puts me on the defensive. You are hating my brothers and sisters. You are hating my friends and co-workers. You are hating my students, who I see as my kids. I look at the history of my own church and the rampant mistrust and discrimination that was used against its early members, and ask why should I do the same to another group? I do not forget that in the early days of my church, Mormons were chased from their homes, their leaders beaten and murdered, false charges brought up against its membership, told that they do not belong, to stop imposing their values on others and be like everyone else or be forced to leave. I will not forget that in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave there was an extermination order issued against the members of my church in the state of Missouri. Because I do not forget about this, I will not stand silent when another group of people are facing lies, prejudices, and fear tactics to turn popular opinion against them. Stop feeding the fear. If you really want to stand against those who are inflicting terror against the world (ISIS, Boko Haram, and other extremist groups), then you will stop generalizing that all Muslims are the same. You might as well say that all Christians are like the KKK, or all Vietnamese are like the Viet Cong, or all Russians are commies, or all those who vote conservative are racist intolerant bigots. They aren’t. Please note that when you share a story that says “Are you worried about what Muslims are doing to your country?” or “Muslims will not assimilate into our culture” you are, in fact, implying that you believe that all Muslims are doing this. I hate to break it to you so bluntly, but if that is how you truly feel about Muslims, you are one word: WRONG.

I want you to know that if you are sharing these lies to make a stand for what you believe is “right”, then, my dear friend (and I am sincere with that label), I do not stand with you. I still love you and will call you friend, but on this I stand with the good Muslim people of my community who go to work, try to live their beliefs to the best of their abilities, and every day go about their business. I am not standing with the terrorists. I am not standing with those who are committing despicable acts. I am standing with the people who are being falsely and unjustly painted with the same brush as a terrorist. I am standing with the people I know. I am standing with my Muslim students who give me Christmas presents every year for being their teacher. I am standing with my Muslim friend who came to the open house of my church’s temple in Calgary three years ago. I am standing with my Muslim neighbours who give to the food drive I help organize each year. I am standing with those who would stand with me when people accuse me of being things that I am not because of my religion. You are free to think that I am naïve, or foolish, or a bleeding heart. You might dismiss this as a rambling that is misguided. You may think “When those Muslims hurt someone he loves he will get no sympathy from me because I told him to not trust them”, and I get it. Again, if that is how you think of me, know that you are mistaken. Some of you will likely read this and continue posting and sharing the hate. I can’t stop you. But maybe, just maybe, what I am saying is causing you to rethink a few things. Just maybe this lengthy read might stir inside of you something will cause you to see a woman in a hijab in a different light. Maybe you will delete the articles you have shared from your timeline, and just maybe, you will see my friends, students, and neighbours as I see them. They are children of God, just like you and me. We are brothers and sisters. If we want to stand against the terrorists, then we should embrace the Muslim members of our communities, get to know them, and befriend them more. For those that have endured to the end of this, I thank you.

So there it is. Likely the longest Facebook status update I have ever posted. The overwhelming response has been positive, with most people agreeing with what I said. There were even some that had been sharing some of these worrisome articles that responded in a good manner, agreeing with the gist of what I was saying. I don't know how many people changed their viewpoints on the topic, but many felt that what I had said was something that needed to be said. 

There were a few that were... shall we say, a bit offended at my stand. So be it. It was argued that what I said was divisive. Maybe so, but only to the point where I separated those who understand the fallacy of judging an entire group of people based on the actions of a few and those who cannot or will not let go of their fears or prejudices. More than that, I said what needed to be said. Since that time I have learned that there is a gradual turning around on this subject. More people are becoming aware of the anti-Muslim sentiments and are making their own stands against it. More are realizing the true divisiveness in this issue, and are coming together instead. That gives me hope. As I said in my earlier post, I cannot stand with those who will judge an entire community based on the actions of a few. I have been the victim of that in the past, and I know the harm it causes first hand. I will continue to hope that things will improve. For those who have caused me offence in this experience, I wish them well and forgive them, but I cannot trust them until I see true signs of change. For those I have offended, I hope they will find it in their hearts to forgive myself and others, but there is little I can do to force the issue. I will continue to stand against the evils in the world, whether it be ISIS or the intolerance of those around me. Some may accuse me of being prideful, arrogant, or self-righteous for what I have said. I suspect that they feel this way in order to suppress the twinge they felt in their conscience that suggests that I hit a bit too close to home in them. In the end, a conversation I had with a trusted friend and colleague brought out a great thought. I would rather be accused of loving too freely than to be accused of hating too easily.

My Top Ten List is a list of Ten Things I learned through this experience:

10. We all have valid reasons for believing what do. Even though I disagreed with the anger of one friend, I understood where it came from and accept it.

9. The dangers of "Black and White" thinking. First, there are things in this world that are right, and things that are wrong. Abusing a child is wrong. Rape is wrong. Comforting a crying child is right. Forgiving others is right. Having said that, there is a risk involved with seeing everything as Black or White, Right or Wrong, with no middle ground or spectrum. The danger is not being able to see the beauty in all the colour that is in the world. 

8. Making a stand can be divisive. At least, that was one thing I was accused of. I didn't think so, but maybe there is some truth to it. It separated those that will see people for who they truly are from those that will judge and hate an entire group based on the actions of a few.

7. Making a stand can be unifying. So often we worry about the differences we have with others. So often we get caught up over how we disagree with who someone else votes for, or whether or not we see eye-to-eye with someone on all things. When a stand is made on solid moral ground, we see others of all walks come together to stand with you. Of that I am thankful.

6. What's done is done, what's said is said. You may not have liked the outcome to your fullest liking, but you can't undo that which you have done. Accept it and move on.

5. It is hard to let go (but should still be encouraged). Some people have deep-seeded reasons for how they feel, for better or for worse. We cannot expect others to let go immediately of their fears or prejudices, but that doesn't mean that we stop encouraging them.

4. Spring cleaning can be done at any time. We need to periodically do an inventory of our life and start getting rid of things that bring us down. That can include relationships. If nothing else, this event helped me remove some negative influences in my life.

3. Standing alone often speaks for the many. One of the main comments I received over and over was the idea that what I had the courage to say was a message that many were hoping would be said. When we take that first step to speak out, we may initially feel that we will be alone on this matter. What ends up happening is that we find we are surrounded by many who agree with us standing by us. 

2. Standing for what is right has a cost, but that shouldn't make the stand any less right. Seldom is this type of stand easy to make. Seldom is it popular. Many instances in history show that making a stand for what is right will lead to a cost. This time around, it likely cost me some respect and friendship in the eyes of a few. I said some hard things, that is true. I felt compelled to say them, and I do not regret what I did for a moment. 

1. Take courage. I debated what I was going to write for quite a while. I wrote and edited the original post several times before it was something I felt good about posting. Some suggested that maybe I should not have posted it at all if it made even one person upset. I just couldn't. For too long those thoughts had rolled around in my brain. For too long I had seen people that, for the most part, were sharing ideas that I felt were hidden and not truly their own. It took courage to post what I did. It was the right thing to do. I sense many people were positively affected by this. It brings me peace to know that good has come of this.