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This is for the Daily Writing Challenge Group |
| Daily Writing Challenge |
| Topic: History Thoughts: I attended a meeting tonight. The topic was historic preservation. I am writing on this topic because I am totally unprepared for the writing challenge tonight. So the topic of history was fresh on my mind. The history that I was discussing tonight was for the preservation of structures, both commercial and residential. It amazes me that there are so many people who do not consider the importance of our past, particularly when it comes to structures. It seems that the older I get the more important the history around me is. Many of the structures in the city that I was meeting with are over one-hundred years old. Consider the events that have taken place while that structure was being used. Consider the families who lived there or the events that happened there. This was brought home to me during a trip that my wife and I made to Fredericksburg. We visited the battlefield at on the outskirts of Fredericksburg. I looked across the battlefield and saw trees across the battlefield. Earlier I saw photographs that were taken during the battlefield. The trees were not there, yet the existing trees were massive. It was remarkable to consider the battlefield as it was and to attempt to visualize the field that way. I also noticed that some of the same homes were existing. |
| Topic: The Christian Paradigm Thoughts: What may appear to be a simple topic, is not simple at all. For any discussion of spiritual matters must consider the paradigm from which the discussion is coming. Matters spiritual, without defining the foundational paradigm, vary tremendously between the paranormal, the mystical, the humanistic, the eastern religions, the Christian, and even the occult. This little philosophical discussion is necessary in order to me to proceed with my discussion. I will offer my comments from the unique view of the Christian paradigm. That in itself is a broad spectrum of belief. Others, who read this, may not agree with the paradigm from which I develop my thoughts, that’s their choice. Any criticism toward this discourse should be from within the limits of this paradigm. Principles and premises that I hold foundational to my paradigm position represent my belief system. Beliefs are the lowest common denominator of the understanding of the paradigm from which we live. The layperson would call them their belief statements. These belief statements are often a product of faith. Faith statements are those statements that require a leap from reason in order to accept. Faith statements are truth because they are accepted as such on their merit alone, without proof from any other source. My faith statements, which comprise my Christian paradigm, are numerous. But I have long ago reduced each one down to the lowest common denominator and have determined that is what I believe. Any discourse on religious topics should be understood from the belief statements that are foundational to my Christian system. These are the things that I believe, not because I stubbornly refuse to budge from any religious dogma, but because I have come to understand that they are truths that support all that I believe within my Christian faith. Again, I do not attempt to prove these basic faith statements. They are not subject to debate, for they are already reduced to their simplest form and have been accepted as they are. A few of my basic belief statements are as follows: The Bible: I believe that the Bible is the inspired word of God. The truths provided therein are divine in their inspiration. God used His Holy Spirit to guide men to document the truths contained therein. The Bible is the inerrant word of God, which means that God’s word to us is not mistaken. Does this mean that there are no errors in the written text? I believe that there are no errors in the original inspired text. The problem is that we do not have the original inspired text. We have early copies of the manuscripts that are in themselves reflective of God’s inspiration, but we do not have the original texts. Until the recent century, the King James Version of the Bible was considered as being inspired. I believe it certainly represents God’s inspiration; but we are deluding ourselves to believe there are no errors in the King James Version of the Bible. Since its publication in 1611, archeology has discovered texts that predate those translated in the King James Version. The marvelous thing is that not a single precept foundational to the Christian faith has been questioned by any archeological find. To the contrary the opposite has occurred. Therefore, I hold as foundational to my faith the guidance of the Holy Spirit as it is conveyed in the Bible. Jesus of Nazareth: I believe that Jesus of Nazareth is the Son of the living God. Jesus is the Christ. He is the third person of the Trinity. Jesus is who He said He is and has come to do what He said He would do. There is no discussion on this matter. It is foundational to my belief. Redemption: God is a god of love who created man to have fellowship with Him. Through man’s own nature he chose to rebel against God. This is the occasion of man’s fall from God’s grace. Because of God’s love for His creation, He has provided a plan for man to be reunited with Himself. Because rebellion from God must carry with it a penalty, man must be judged and found guilty. Our guilt is a great gulf that separates man from a loving God. We are not capable of removing this great gulf. But God is. The only way to reunite man to God is for man to be redeemed. There is no redemption apart from God, for it is only God who can redeem fallen man. Because, of this fact, God chose to enter the world as His Son to pay the cost of man’s sin and by so doing purchase redemption for man. Redemption is found in the sacrificial act of God Himself in the person of Jesus, the Christ. There are a number of other belief statements that must be provided before I can share my understanding of my spiritual positions and truths from the Bible. It is my intent to save these discourses for the weekends. As for now, I must save the rest for another day. Word Count = 853 |
| Topic: God’s Little Gift Thoughts: God gave me a little gift this morning. Well, first of all He let we wake up again. When you reach the ripe ole’ age of 56 you are thankful for that little miracle. But that is not the gift that I’m referring to. It was a very little thing for God, but it meant so much to me. I rode my bicycle this morning. Again to be able to climb on and negotiate my way was a joy. But again, that is not what I’m referring to. As I walked into the glory of His morning, I felt so blessed. There are many reasons that I have for this feeling. I live in a very big house—well it’s big to me. I have a lawn that is well manicured and has shrubs, trees and flowering plants located along the sculptured border of the garden areas. In the summer we have humming birds, robins, and cardinals who treat my yard as their domain. I am more than happy to share it with them. After all it really does not belong to me. My Father has given it to me to care for (see "Encounter in the Garden"  ). I do my best. As I left for my morning ride, I drank in the beauty of God’s creation (see "Invalid Item" ). That was a part of God’s little gift.I peddled slowly, for this was not an aerobic exercise; it was for total pleasure alone. The fresh morning air was filtered by a steady rain that came last night, and it still had a tinge of rain left in it that tickled my senses with its smell. The clouds were still abundant but beginning to break. As I looked to the heavens I could see hints of orange and yellow highlighted across the edges of the clouds, just like God had dipped his brush in vibrant oils and painted the sky for my pleasure. That was a part of God’s little gift. The rain had brought a chill with the slight breeze. As I entered the bike path that led me between the trees, I noticed leaves had fallen during the rain last night. They scattered across my path. The wind gently dusted at them before me and as my bike passed over them I heard a crunch beneath my tires. Fall is quickly approaching. Squirrels scampered across my path. I apologized for intruding into their morning. They did not listen but only ran off to do their squirrel thing. All of this was a part of God’s little gift. I parked my bike on the far side or our little lake around which my bike path embraces. I sat and listened to the sounds of the morning. The beauty of an early morning is that you can hear it waking up. Things chatter and make their noises in the wooded areas. Across the tree limbs I can see the squirrels running down the branches jumping from one tree to another. It amazes me that there are no property lines to the creatures who live above us, up in the treetops. They carry on their chores without a concern as to who owns the property beneath them. I get the feeling that they know who it really belongs to. They were part of God’s little gift. I rode on around the path across the little bridge that crosses the little stream that feeds our lake. I stopped on the bridge and leaned against the rail. Using my bike as a seat and the rail to support me, I again drank in the beauty of the morning. Geese and ducks milled about in the water and the nearby shore. I smiled as they bobbed their heads beneath the water, leaving their tails pointing into the sky. They went about their morning feeding, ignoring my presence and permitting me to share this time. I was curious that in small groups of five or six they would often waddle out of the lake and proceed to a small spot for a moment before waddling back to the water where they became graceful as they glided across its surface. I noticed that someone had deposited a considerable amount of feed at that particular spot. I smiled as I confirmed that someone else was enjoying God’s little gift. I thought of my grandkids, about how much they enjoyed feeding the ducks. I thought about how much more this glory of creation means whenever I see it experienced through their eyes. I marvel at how much I love them. They are most assuredly a significant part of God’s little gift. And as I pull back into my drive way, the golden flowering mums that Linda planted greet me. They say good-morning and welcome home. I discover that I am right back where I started, for I feel that I am surely blessed. And indeed I am. Word Count: 825 |
| Topic: Crossroads Thoughts: Have you ever heard the comment, “You’ve come to a cross-roads in your life?” Well, I've heard it said more than once. What does it mean? It means that we've come to a time of decision. It’s just like a fork in the road, except with one more option. There are a number of options that we have when we come to crossroad situations in our lives. We can just stand there. We can choose to proceed; or we can turn back. What we ultimately do will determine, to a great extent, the quality of our lives. The insecure Me turns back. I encounter this Me only at the occasion of very critical crossroads—those that may affect my life or the lives of my loved ones. This is the easiest action for me to do, because it is the most familiar. It is familiar because I have already been down the road that lies behind me. Why is it that I often opt for the familiar rather than the unknown that may promise great potential? I’m not unlike many people who opt for the sure thing. And so the insecure Me looks at the crossroads, which disappear over the horizon, and chooses the sure and familiar way that I've already tread. There is no adventure in this choice; there is no freshness. To walk back and forth on the familiar ways is to settle for less than what you truly desire in your dreams. To that Me, dreams are something to pass the evening hours, not something to be achieved. The indecisive Me just stands there. In my heart, I want to proceed. In my heart I want to achieve my dreams not just dream them. But fear grips the indecisive Me. Because of this fear I don’t proceed down the road ahead of me. The irony of the situation is that I also don’t desire to walk the road behind me either. In my heart I realize that I can only progress in my journey by taking one of the roads in front of me. And so, the indecisive Me stands still, unwilling to retrace the paths that I have walked before, for it is a waste of time. However, the fear of the road ahead--a road of which I cannot be assured of its destination--causes me to stand and face in the direction of my dreams, unwilling to take the chance and take a step in their direction. As you perceive, the confident and assured Me takes advantage of the roads before him and forges down the path. Which path to take is another story. For each path leads to a different destination. But I contend that the destination is not as important as the willingness to proceed down the path, encountering new experiences and developing as I grow. With that said, how one proceeds down the path is important. To run blindly down the path without concern or care for the condition or destination of the path is foolish and likely costly. The old song says, “Fools rush in…” Surely this is so when we ignore the warning signs at the crossroads and plunge blindly forward. Movement for the sake of movement alone is not progress. It is often wasteful and nonproductive. Progress down the roads of our crossroads should be preceded by careful consideration of the nature of the roads as we know them, realizing that there will always be a portion of the road that is unseen. The wise traveler will count the costs at the crossroads; and then boldly strike off down the path that promises the most likey possibility to achieve the dreams at the destination. Unfortunately, life’s journey is filled with crossroads. How we succeed on the journey depends on how we learn to negotiate the crossroads. It is heartening to me to realize that our crossroads are many; and the wrong turn on any one road does not necessarily lead to disaster. No, the successful life it that one that has taken more right choices that incorrect choices. The great truth is that me must encounter crossroads in our life if we are to be expected to grow. We don’t grow when we refuse to walk forward. There are no crossroads when we turn back. And as we look down the roadway of our lives and see the crossoads before us, we will never reach those crossroads if we refuse to take a step. No he only option that we truly have is to take the step down the road. I’m so fortunate that in this life I don’t have to walk alone, for walking with me are my wife and my God. What else could I ask for? Word Count = 800 |
| Topic: Political Responsibility Thoughts: A little over sixty years ago my father stormed through the salty water of the Pacific and up the sandy beach of the island of Okinawa. The men entrenched on that island wanted to kill him and tried with all their ability to do so. My father had friends who were not as lucky as he; he walked off of that island. Many of his buddies did not and are still interred beneath the sandy soil. They died violently, never to come home again. I firmly believe that my father fought for my right to vote in this upcoming election. His buddies died for that right. I’m sure that there are those who would roll their eyes and arch their eyebrows at my sentiments. There are those to whom the concept of fighting for our freedom is an abstract idea, holding little meaning because they haven’t experienced the fear of losing that freedom. Today, young Americans in uniform fight in the stark land of Iraq. To many that represents only a television news item. There is no connection between the conflict in Iraq and the freedom experienced at home. If there were, it would be more than an opportunity to garner partisan political points. If they truly understood, it would be more than financial opportunity and television ratings. If Americans truly understood the magnitude of the sacrifice that our soldiers were making, our election turnout would not be limited to twenty or thirty percent of the total population. If people truly understood the election turnout would be total. That will not happen. There will be people tonight who will not watch the presidential debate. I read a media poll today which indicated that seventy-seven percent of the population has already made up their mind as to who they will be voting for this November. Why should we watch this debate? Because we owe it to those who have paid the ultimate price to be informed. By watching the debate we exercise our freedom of speech. Hopefully, after the debate, when the ‘talking heads’ tell us what we heard, we will exercise our right to ignore them. Political freedom brings responsibility—responsibility to think for ourselves. Unfortunately, we’ve become a lazy people. Many Americans refuse to think for themselves; they passively permit someone else to think for them and draw their conclusions. I’m not sure that I want those kinds of people voting on Election Day. If it were not for the terrible price that has already been paid, I would be quite content to have them stay off the streets until after the polls were closed. However, even a moron has the right to express his/her opinion and to vote their conscience. What disturbs me is the multitude of people who don’t bother to go to the polling place. There are intelligent people who claim that it is some sort of meaningful statement to refrain from voting as a protest. That is absolutely insulting to the legions of Americans who’ve paid for their right with their very blood. There is no option as far as I am concerned. You don’t have to vote for the person I vote for. Each person who is eligible must vote for someone. I’ve also heard it said that, if you don’t vote you don’t have the right to speak against those who were elected. Nonsense! Whether or not you vote does not have any bearing on your right of free speech. It does; however, determine whether or not you are politically responsible. So, what must you do to be politically responsible? First, listen to the arguments and positions with your own ears. Do your own reasoning. It doesn’t have to be correct, just yours. Second, when given the opportunity, vote. Thirdly, respect the right of your neighbor to vote as well. I have not shared who my choice is for president. I am one of the seventy-seven who already know who they will vote for. Regardless of that fact, I will listen to the debates. I will consider the statements made by the candidates. I will go to the polls on Election Day, no early voting for me. I thank those who have died that I may stand in that little booth and make a bunch of black marks on a ballot. I do that because I want to; but I do it also because I believe that it is my responsibility to do so. Word Count = 750 |
| Topic:: Generations Thoughts: Several years ago I experienced two events that caused me to become very aware of my mortality. My father died and then a year later my mother died. Being an only child, I was painfully aware of the feeling of being alone. I have my wife and my children; I have my friends and my business associates. Regardless of the people who wandered in and out of my life, I still had the ever present feeling of being alone. I reasoned that it was a normal reaction for someone who had lost both parents, regardless of the fact that they were advanced in age. I first became aware of this feeling when my own grandchildren quizzed me about my father. It disturbed me that they would never know this man who was bigger than life and influenced my life so. Therefore, I purposed to document my father’s life. I wrote a small biographical piece on my father. During this process I felt it was important to delve into his history a little. This meant that I needed to know more about my grandfather. One thing lead to another and before long I felt the need to trace my roots as far back as I possibly could. The result of this research was a marvelous interest in my family roots. As I traced one family member to another, it dawned on me that I am a part of a rather large group of people. The smallness of my immediate family was greatly expanded with the knowledge of past family members. I now have the Boutwell clan traced relatively accurately back to 1625. The source of this family tree is Adam Boutwell. I find it interesting that the first ancestor was named Adam--kinda Biblical. The European roots are from Wales, where Adam was born. He is known as Captain Adam Boutwell. We suppose that he was the captain of a merchant ship. From this seed has come a multitude of associated family members. Last count is that the number is somewhere around two-thousand relatives. High points in the lineage is documented by a number of particularly interesting individuals. Most of them are connected with historical events. Stephen Boutwell, Adam's great-great grandson, was born around 1752. This ancestor fought in the Revolutionary War. After the war, he moved this line of the Boutwell family to pioneer Illinois. The family was quite prolific in that place and eventually migrated into other areas. Sometime around 1850, my great-great grandfather, Nathaniel, moved his family to northern Texas. His cousin, Alexander, was already in north Texas. Both of these men fought in the Civil War for Texas and the Confederacy. Alexander had a particularly colorful life. My interest in Alexander has been documented in a book that is in progress and posted in my port as "Book- Across the River" . Following the Civil War, because of traumatic events, both Nathaniel and Alexander moved their families across the Red River into Indian Territory.The next relative of significant interest is my father, who grew up in the small rural towns of Oklahoma working in their oil fields. As a young man he enlisted in the Marine Corps and fought in the Pacific in World War II. He landed on Okinawa and remained there for the duration of the battle. After the war he returned home and proceeded to establish himself and his family. However, he did not stay in the United States. For the early years of my life, he worked in Venezuela, in the oil fields there. The generations of my family that spread wide and deep have given me a sense of belonging to something enourmous. When I talk of who my people were, I envision a multitude of personalities with marvelous versatility and diversity. Instead of being contained within a small box I have developed a sense of belonging to a brotherhood that expands beyond conventional limits. They extend into history and make it a vibrant and personal experience that affirms to me that I come from a gene pool of which I am familiar and who have made their mark on history. It is interesting to me that I now see myself linked in the midst of this genealogical chain with my children and grandchildren extending it beyond my influence into their own. Word Count = 725 |
| Topic: The void. Thoughts: There are times when there simply is nothing there. As I direct myself to this blank page I do so with the knowledge that the words that are going to fill this page are yet to be thought of. The remarkable thing is that, as long as I keep writing, the word commitment to the writing challenge decreases with each newly written word. The void that was total is now beginning to fill slowly but surely. The void that began with nothing slowly starts to take form. Out of the creativity of the mind thoughts begin to form on pages. Paragraphs consisting of introduction sentences, content, and conclusions are developed. The paragraphs tie the thoughts together in a developed pattern that present a story or essay. All of this out of a void. There is something very rewarding about creating something out of nothing. I remember years ago when I was a draftsman. A clean, blank sheet of paper had the marvelous ability to be turned into something meaningful. Lines represented property lines, edges of buildings, locations for landscaping. Engineers and construction workers take the once blank page that now has meaningful information and turn the void into places for people to live, work and play. Out of the void it comes. Voids are not found only on blank pages. There our lives that are also blank. When we live mundane lives that do not receive any outside stimulus of information, a lack of input of relationships, and limited opportunities for recreation our lives may be consider void of personality and character. What we must do is purpose to dispel the possible voids that threaten our lives. We must be proactive in our efforts to dispel the void. We must be informed by reading and researching what we receive as input. We must be creative when we write and when we play. When a child is born they are a blank slate—a void. Immediately they begin to take in input. The void begins to disperse. It is critical that we fill that void with productive and meaningful experiences. What a responsibility that is. We only have one “first opportunity” to fill the void of a new child. Too bad that for some of us the first child is our experiment. The first child is the one we learn on. The void will be filled with something. That is why it is so important that when we fill the void of the new child it is with quality information. Whatever the content, the most important thing to place within the void is love and care. A generous portion of tenderness and sincerity creates a fertile bed for filling voids. That is why teaching is such an important vocation. A teacher has the responsibility and privilege of filling the voids of learning of our children. Just like the blank page that is filled with plans and dreams, so are the blank canvases of out youth’s minds filled with goals and dreams for the future. That in fact is where our future lays. The blank mind of the newborn, when filled with the information of the ages and nurtured by love and nudged with purpose become our future. That is what life is all about. The marvelous thing about writing or creating pieces of art is that the void can never ultimately claim a person if they have created these works. Each poem or story stands as a testament against the void that may take a person physically. As long as there are pieces that still communicate, there can be no final void. I also believe that there is a spiritual void that must be overcome. Without getting deep into theology, there is a great void that separates man from God. We as men and women cannot overcome that great void. It can only be bridged by the action of God Himself. We bridge that great gulf when we exercise our faith. Being a Christian, I believe that it is exercised particularly when it is affirmed that Jesus Christ is who he said he was and did what He said He would do. Word Count = 700 |
| Topic: Exasperation Thoughts: Why is it that others usually do not accomplish a job with the same quality or efficiency as I do? At least that is how I often feel. I don’t know how many times I have heard others profess much of the same theme in one form or another. You know how it goes, “If you want it done right, do it yourself.” It drives me crazy. The problem with being a professional is that it takes years to hone your skills to the point where you are considered as being the expert. As the expert, I do my craft as well or better than anyone that I know. Unfortunately, being the boss means that I can’t always be the one doing the work. I have to let others do it. That’s what economy of scale is all about. Instead of one of me doing things, I hire several people who can do the same thing that I do and then I make more money and they get bonuses and everyone is happy. That’s how it works in theory. However, in real life I find that it takes them twice as long to do a job that I’m not satisfied with. That is where the exasperation comes in. My tendency is to rush in and say, “Here, let me do that.” But that defeats the purpose for having employees. So, I must watch the deed being done, realizing that there is more than one way to do it, realizing that their way is certainly not my way. That is exasperating. The dictionary definition of exasperation includes: “annoyingly frustrating.” Yes that’s it. It’s unbelievably annoying to permit things to be done less than as I feel they should be. Could it possibly be that I tend to micro-manage. Of course it could. But how do you keep from doing that when you know that each wasted moment or delayed assignment costs money? Beats me. But I know that I must refrain. I must permit those who are learning to continue to learn. And for that I am somewhat penalized, for their rate to the client is much less than mine. So, I must stand back and let them do it their way, just as I watched my children learn to ride their bicycles. But that does not make the experience for me any the less exasperating. I have found that the best way for me to counter exasperation is to not be present. I must leave the room, leave the office, and even sometimes leave the city. Left to their own designs my professionals successfully accomplish the assignments. However, I must admit that one of my associates has as much experience as I do and is extremely capable. I must concede that the best approach to my personal experiences regarding exasperation is to not place myself in the position to be exasperated. With effort, I believe that I can do that with my employees. A part of exasperation comes with the business. Especially when it is caused by clients. This form, although just as frustrating, has the benefit of at least being profitable. As a consultant I am paid to be the expert. I am paid to solve the problem. The most exasperating part of my business is when the advice that I give, and which they pay serious money for, is totally ignored. There are times when a client is bound and determined to shoot themselves in the foot. No matter how much you may warn them, they insist of shooting their own foot. I suppose the thing that makes it truly exasperating, is that it is totally out of my control. When I was younger, one of my bosses told me that there isn’t anything that could do that he could not fix. That is a good lesson for me to learn. Let others make the mistakes. Especially if I know how to fix them. However, as long as the mistake is not too grievous. Word Count = 675 |
| Topic: Diversity Thoughts: If everybody looked the same, acted the same, thought the same, and felt the same this would certainly be a boring and mundane world. We are fortunate that people are not the same. Our differences make us unique. They make us interesting. They also make me crazy. Sometimes, I like people to agree with me—OK, maybe not totally, but to a great degree. This desire for agreement is most sought after in my writing. There are times when I think I am simply brilliant; granted, those are fleeting and exceptional moments. I post a piece and then wait for the glorious reviews. I’m fortunate when a couple of 5.0 ratings appear. I then usually feel quite smug about myself, which is an unbecoming trait. Then in the midst of my smugness I receive a 3.0 rating that blasts my brilliant piece as being shallow and misguided. What are they thinking? Do they not know how good this is? Perhaps I should inform them that, until their inappropriate 3.0 rating, the piece had received 5.0 ratings. I read their review and, considering their arguments, totally disagree. How in the world can they come to that conclusion? I must reign in my bruised ego and affirm that what has occurred is not a bad thing. It’s actually a good thing. Our actions and comments should always cause people to respond. We must be prepared to receive comments that we feel are unreasonable. They are a mark of diversity. It’s this very diversity that helps us to experience positive growth. Constructive growth occurs when we hurtle barriers and stumble over stumbling blocks. It’s the barriers and stumbling block that teach us how to adjust and make course corrections. If all we receive in life is sugar-coated 5.0s, we encounter no opportunities to make changes, effect refinements, apply the polish. I have come to accept that all comments are a learning opportunity. Please understand that I don’t have to agree with all of them; I certainly don’t have to like them. But I can absolutely learn from them. Simply because one or two readers call the piece shallow and misguided does not mean they’re correct. In fact it’s not a question of right or wrong. The question is, “How do I use the rating system in Writing.com?” Now, some of the author’s say, “The ratings are not important. It’s the reviews that are really meaningful.” True, the reviews are extremely important. But it’s the ratings that quantify our work. Ratings are the measure of appreciation. Regardless of how accurate people are to the rating system, it provides a measure of how people receive the work. First of all, I must concede that I will not receive all 5.0s. Correct use of the system indicates that we will not. Therefore, I consider the majority rule. If I wish my pieces to be received favorably, and I do, I measure that reception by how the majority rate it. For example, I have a piece ("Invalid Item" ) that has received a very good rating. It has received thirty-two total ratings to date. Of those thirty-two, twenty-two have been 5.0s; eight have been 4.5s, and two have been 4.0s. I could rant and rave about how unreasonable and wrong the two 4.0s are and I would be wrong by doing that. Remember, it is our diversity that makes us unique. So, I accept that there are two unique people who think much differently than the majority; they were motivated to express themselves. I feel comfortable with the piece that I wrote. I’ll probably not change a thing. The good thing is that the 4.0s made me think about my piece, evaluate it, and consider refinements. We are all different. I am glad we are. I will not be threatened by the differences but will embrace them as opportunities to grow. Word Count = 650 |
| Topic: Honesty Thoughts: My father had a saying that I remember. He said, “A man is only as good as his word.” Truth and honesty are very closely related. In our warped world today, it’s not unusual for us to not trust people. My father also taught that we trust people until they give us reason not to. I want to live in a world where we can trust people. I want to give my neighbor the benefit of the doubt. That's a dangerous thing to do. When we trust people we leave ourselves venerable to dishonest and selfish people. They care only for their gain. Our alternative is to doubt everyone, which I’m unwilling to do. If I do that, life is diminished. My humanity is sacrificed when I decide to distrust everyone. I don’t know when that happened to our world. However, I remember a time when keys were left in cars, when the doors to our homes were left unlocked, and when we could safely walk our streets at night. Crime didn't preoccupy our lifestyle. It was a time when our children could walk to school without being abducted and abused. I don’t know where that time went, but I know that I want it back. How do we do that? Well, I believe that a critical element is found in the family unit. Our families are broken. We live in an age of the single parent or multiple parent family. There is little commitment to the family. There is little commitment to the marriage institution. It’s interesting that very few of my grandson’s baseball team-mates live with their mom and dad. Usually mom is there, but dad is somewhere else. In addition, they have brothers and sisters who each have different dads. Honesty in our families begins with the marriage contract. Vows are said with fingers crossed. Relationships are entered into with the understanding that there is a way out. We need not respect these vows; it seems nobody does anymore. One may think that this is unrelated to the topic of ‘honesty’. But it has everything to do with it. How can we expect our families to learn about trust and honesty if the first promise in marriage is taken lightly? Our children learn to be honest by our example. I learned about honesty not because my father told me about honesty, but because I watched him live it. I heard him say that a man was only as good as his word, and then he showed me what it meant. I saw him drive fifty miles to return fifty cents that was overpaid to him in change. Today people would call that foolish. I called it honesty. My father didn’t fudge on his taxes. He didn’t claim extra on insurance claims. He never claimed a day of unemployment or welfare. And he believed that bankruptcy was stealing. He paid those who worked for him an honest wage and expected to be paid well for an honest days work. On the occasion of my first job, he told me it was most important to “make a hand.” To take advantage of my employer was dishonest and was stealing. My children had a functional family. My wife and I have been married for thirty-eight years. We’ve always been honest with each other. My children have learned by example. Moreover, our grandchildren are learning likewise. Their families are not fragmented; they have the influence of grandparents as well as parents. They learn not because we tell them to be honest, but because they watch us. They know no different. Unfortunately, they live in a warped world. Fortunately, they have the protection and influence of a solid family. Word Count = 625 |
| Topic: Procrastination Thoughts: The best example of procrastination is this entry tonight. I got up early this morning and immediately logged onto Writing.com. I leisurely surfed along. I thought, “Now would be a good opportunity to prepare my journal entry.” I then decided to do it later on that morning. In the afternoon I worked on various reviews and on Chapter 13 of my Book, Across the River. A thought glanced through my mind, “Better work on the journal entry.” Nope, I’ll wait until after dinner. In the early evening, sometime around 6:00PM, Linda and I paid a visit to a surprise birthday party for a good friend. We did not tarry for we had an appointment with other friends to watch a movie. Somewhere through the movie, at about 9:30 PM CST, I glanced at my watch. I had an hour-and-a-half to get this piece written. The movie continued and I lost track of the story line for I’m thinking, “What in the world is my topic for the thought” tonight?” I haven’t a clue. All I know is that my friends love to visit and after the movie we will sit around and talk about scores of mundane topics. Eventually our friends go home. That sounds terrible, but my mind is elsewhere. I would be rotten company, but I successfully faked it. I know, that is terrible of me. So now I log onto the computer. I have 30 minutes to whip out something brilliant. My mind concedes that brilliant is not the goal for tonight. Legible will do. Why do we procrastinate? Perhaps it is like mountains. We do it because we can. I know that I do not enjoy the pressure that facing the deadline without the product produces. My stress level raises; my attention to other issues is totally lost; and worst yet, the quality of my work drops like a rock. Procrastination is not profitable. In fact, when it is related to my business, procrastination costs me money. When I procrastinate, I find that I get to do things over again. The second time I do them, I do them right. That is because I then have the time to do them well. It's strange that procrastination gives us ample of time to prepare before-hand to do a task. You would think that with all that extra time of preparation the product would be extra good. But just the opposite happens. I compress the quality time into a pancake thin period that gives me no flexibility to create. Therefore the biggest problem with procrastination is that it tends to stifle creativity. When I write I find that I must first get the words on the page. After they are on the page, then can I begin to refine the ideas and manipulate the word pictures? But that takes time. Time that simply is not available for last minute projects. There is no creativity in spur of the moment pieces. There are simply random thoughts spewed on the page with a hope that some of the material will make a little sense. A universal truth about procrastination is that it is not a learned trait. No, procrastination comes naturally. Our natural tendency is to do only that amount of work that will permit us to survive. It is therefore an un-natural act to plan ahead. If we are fortunate we will be taught by parents and teachers that our general health and welfare is best served when we plan ahead. Procrastination is not a problem. It is a bad habit. Word Count = 600 |
| Topic: Catch-up Thoughts: I have determined that America’s favorite game is not football or baseball. No, it is “catch-up”. This is an amazingly versatile game. You don’t have to be in good physical condition to play it. You don’t have to be financially well off. You don’t even need to know the rules to the game. Catch-up is a very expensive game. It’s best played after you determine that you’ve spent your last dollar on groceries. It’s also a game of surprises. There are numerous forms of catch-up. In fact, there are more forms of catch-up than I am able to discuss in this little discourse. There’s the holiday version. It’s primarily played as a result of Christmas. Corporate America is its sponsor. Sometime around August, Corporate America begins to advertise Christmas. You may have thought the purpose of Christmas was to celebrate the birth of Jesus—silly you. The purpose of Christmas is to buy ridiculous stuff that we really don’t need, for the purpose of overextending ourselves financially so that we can play catch-up. Closely associated with holiday catch-up is vacation catch-up. Places like Disney World and Las Vegas are prime sponsors of vacation catch-up. They say vacation catch-up is very therapeutic. They say that you have fun playing this version. However, it’s curious that there is nothing material that is exchanged, except money—yours. But of course, money is the baseballs and gloves of the game. That’s what we use to play catch-up. There’s the medical form of catch-up. There are two versions of this game. There’s the involuntary version, such as a heart attack. This is not a fun version, but it is played by millions of unfortunates. There’s the voluntary version of the game, such as braces. My son and daughter-in-law are playing this version. Their oldest son has been selected to receive five-thousand dollars worth of braces. What fun, they’re speechless at their fortune. There’s governmental catch-up. Not wanting us to feel neglected, the IRS has selected a number of us to play the governmental version of catch-up. This is a very easy version to play. There’s just one rule: give them however much they want. This is an easy rule to follow because if you don’t follow it they will come and take it anyway. I’ve enjoyed the kinder, gentler IRS. They smile when they take your possessions. What nice people. There’s automotive catch-up. This version teaches us versatility. There is more than one way to get to work in the morning. You can take the bus. You can use your wife’s car. You can ride in with your neighbor. What you don’t do is use your own car, because it is at the shop having a new motor put in. And forget about that little ‘do-dad’ that you were planning on buying for yourself when you made the last car payment. This extra three-thousand dollars will keep you playing automotive catch-up for months. There’s Super catch-up. That’s where you play all the versions at once, including education catch-up, alimony catch-up, homeowner catch-up, and my wife’s personal favorite: clothing catch-up. I’ve been a little silly with this piece. But it seems that I’ve been playing this frustrating game all my life. As my earning potential increased, so did my responsibilities. As my age increased, I added the version called retirement catch-up. Unfortunately, I’ve not had much time for that version. Gee, I wonder why. Word Count = 575 |
| Topic: Birthdays Thoughts: Birthdays are strange things. When you’re young you look forward to them with excitement and expectation. When you’re older you don’t look forward to them at all. Today is my birthday. There will be no celebration. There hasn’t been for years. There is a reason for that. My children are boys. Boys are not generally as sensitive to special events as are girls. If any fuss is made it will be because of the emotional make-up of my daughters-in-law. It isn’t that my boys don’t care for their parents. No, both their mother and I are certainly loved. It’s just that celebrations are not one of their strong suits—unless it’s a super bowl party. So I’ll pass this day without any fanfare, except from my wife. It will not escape her. After thirty-seven years of marriage she will apply just the right amount of emphasis on this day. How does she do it? Although birthdays are somewhat dreaded. I’m pleased that I still have them, when you consider the alternative. Today I’m fifty-six. At this age, my body has demonstrated the signs of growing older. I have the distinction of having specialist for doctors. I have a cardiac specialist; he has placed me on medication. I have a rheumatologist, who has placed me on medication. And I have a primary care physician, who has placed me on medication. That’s what happens when you grow older; you collect doctors. I am insistent, however, that I will not discuss ailments and medication. I’m saving that for my seventieth birthday. Although my body insists on being fifty-six, my mind is in open rebellion. In my mind I’m really twenty-one. Albeit, it is a much more mature twenty-one than when it really was twenty-one. I believe our minds do not age the same as bodies. Minds generally age slowly. That’s the great redeeming quality about growing older. I just look older; that’s all. Writing.com is a perfect example of that conclusion. When I browse through a port, I don’t receive an immediate impression as to the author’s age. I make some guesses. I get a perception of general age, like young or older. Unless it is revealed in the bio or a posted biographical piece, the age isn’t a factor in my overall impression from the posted material. That’s because what I see in Writing.com are people’s minds. I don’t see the physical body. Nor do I observe social status. The writer may be rich or poor, but it’s the mind that is evident by the writing. As such the age of the body, or even the social standing, doesn’t impact my impression of the person. People interact more as equals. Birthdays don’t have the same meaning when I consider people’s minds. I conclude this dissertation on birthdays to say that I don’t mind birthdays. I’m glad I have them. But the simple counting of physical years does not necessarily correspond to the mental age of the person. The ability to create and communicate is the true measure of youth. I have accepted the slow shut-down of the physical systems. But I will forever resist the cessation of the mind. And I count my blessings that in the recesses of my mind I am still twenty-one. Word Count = 550 |
Topic: Experience Thoughts: Several years ago, I watched my grandson labor over the building blocks that we kept for him to play with, during his frequent visits. He gave his undivided attention to the multi-colored blocks scatted about him, as he built his little creations. He would turn each one over and then over again, searching for its proper position on the stack. The building blocks were perfectly square. All their surfaces were the same. During his efforts, he would furrow his little brow and concentrate on each block. His dedication to the task brought a smile to my face as I mused at how difficult he was making his chore. Over time things changed. As he grew older his efforts with the blocks diminished. Today he has generally lost interest in the simple little blocks. When he occasionally plays with the blocks, he stacks them quickly and effectively. It appears that his delight comes as he brings them crashing down and not when he builds them up. This simple little story has more than one lesson to learn. It is obvious that we must labor through life to gain the experience of living it. Experience provides us with the ability to live life more effectively and to accomplish greater things. It’s only when we labor over the building blocks of our lives that we gain the experience of building and growing. Unfortunately, it appears that some people still delight in bringing their lives crashing down around their feet. They then look around and wonder what happened. We alone are responsible for the building blocks of our lives. What we do with them is up to us. I am caused to wonder. What changed in my grandson’s life that allowed him to build with his blocks more efficiently as he grew older? It wasn’t the blocks. They have always been the same. They are amazingly simple. It’s what he did with them that became complicated. Over the years he built sturdier and taller structures, to the point where I had to buy a second set of blocks to accommodate his creations. We do the very same thing in our lives. We constantly add to the building material of our lives with more and more experiences. That’s good. That’s how we learn. But as we add building blocks to our lives, we must be careful that they are placed securely and orderly upon the others that we have laid before. There’s marvelous variety in how we stack our building blocks. The potential is endless. Our actions must always be positively building the structure of our life. If it is not, then we are tearing them down. And, unfortunately, when they come down they often bring down the good ones also. Life doesn’t need to be complicated. Consider it as a box of building blocks. Our experiences are like those blocks. Place one on top of the other. The ones on the bottom support the ones on top. If we are very careful we will use all the blocks in the box and can be proud of the thing that we have built. Word Count = 525 |
| Topic: Escape Thoughts: I love what I do for a living. Many may envy my situation. I don’t have a boss to answer to. To many it appears that I can come and go as I see fit. If I make a really stupid mistake, no one says anything. No one criticizes what I do, at least not to my face. I get the biggest office, the newest car, the most expensive computer. My granddaughter says, “You sure are lucky to be the boss, Grandpa.” I have to agree with her. I consider myself fortunate indeed. I consider myself fortunate that, when I quit my job and started this company, my savings were not completely depleted, just mostly. I consider myself fortunate that I was able to earn a two year Masters degree in eight years. I consider myself fortunate that the bank and the IRS worked with me when times were difficult in the early days of the company. I consider myself fortunate that they did not take my home. I consider myself fortunate that my health has permitted me to work twelve to sixteen hours a day for the last sixteen years. I consider myself fortunate that I have been able to take off two weeks during that period and now can spend my week-ends with my family. I consider myself fortunate to be able to have enough money to make the payroll for my employees, even though I often must wait in order to pay myself. I consider myself fortunate that when all the bills have been paid, there is something left over that I can have. So, I guess my granddaughter is right, I have certainly been lucky. So as I sit in this Hyatt Resort Suite, I consider myself lucky. Even so, I have come here to escape my office. I ran away with my wife to this little place. Unfortunately, I don’t do that very well. Before I left this morning, I attended a meeting until ten o’clock. I dropped by my office to take care of a few things. Finally, on my way out of town, I made three cell calls to clients until my cell phone lost the connection. Before logging on to Writing.com, I wrote a letter to a client and emailed it. I don’t think I’m doing this escaping thing right. Someone said once that I am a ‘work-a-holic.' I disagree. A work-a-holic is obsessed with working, would rather do it than anything else. I love my work, but please realize that I certainly would chose to do something else with my time if I could. I work to survive—just like everybody else. The scary thing about owning the company is that other people are depending on you. I have to work so that their family can be provided for. The next few days will likely be a departure from my usually well organized and planned journal entries. That is because I am practicing escaping. Word Count = 500 |
| Topic: Religion or Relationship? Thoughts: They say that there are two topics that shouldn’t be discussed with strangers: politics and religion. Both of these generally consist of very strongly held personal positions. A forceful presentation of these views can often alienate or erect barriers that are difficult to overcome. I took a course in religious philosophy when I was in college. I was intrigued to be informed that all philosophy presents a religious position. An individual’s philosophical position is either based on the premise that there is a God or there is not. I was also intrigued to discover the arguments that are presented regarding the lack of God, as well as in support of God, were not in any way new arguments. Smarter men than me have long ago presented the arguments that I thought were original with me. I determined that I cannot, will not, be able to win my argument regarding religion. As long as I deal with the reasoning of religion, I am destined to never have the answer. My understanding of religion is satisfied only when I reduce it to a matter of faith. There is a point in time when I must concede that I am unable to reason my way through this issue. In a sense it becomes unreasonable. My scientific mind cannot arrive at a successful conclusion to the experiment. That is a root of the problem. Scientific minds cannot understand God by scientific proof alone. I cannot mix the yellow liquid with the blue liquid and every time come up with a green liquid, as science would have me do. No, the proof of God isn’t scientific. As Josh McDowell has said, the proof of God is legal. We believe in God because of the witnesses that support the argument. There are more ancient documents that corroborate the writings that comprise our Bible than any other book. There is more proof that Paul wrote his epistles to the churches than there is that Homer wrote the Odyssey. There is more proof of the accuracy of the text of the Gospels than the text of the Magna Carta. Yet, no one doubts the authorship of the Odyssey nor the text of the Magna Carta. Why is that? Can it be because the Bible is more than a literary document or a legal instrument? Can it be that the Bible provides an opportunity to enter into a relationship with a living God? People aren’t willing to accept that premise. They’re not willing because it requires that they enter into a relationship, rather than remain outside the limits of the relationship examining it only with cold academic documentation. One is an academic investigation; the other is an exercise in faith. One represents an academic study of religion; the other represents a relationship with the living God. Word Count= 475 |
| Topic: Despair I often spend moments reading the Bible. I’m constantly amazed by the remarkable truths that are found there. Psalms 109 was written by David when he was in deep despair. David was in danger of being killed by King Saul. Just like David, there are times when I look at life and determine that it is unfair and has dealt me an unreasonable hand. I wonder why God has done this to me; I find myself despairing. As I consider David, it would not have been unexpected to find him angry at God for being placed in the tenuous position that he was in. But in the very midst of that situation is found this Psalm of David. There are times in life when it appears that the only sound is the sound of my accusers; the only words I hear are those words spoken against me. I am fortunate that those times, although intense, are not enduring. They do not last forever. But that is little solace to me when I am walking in the valley of those times. The David, of the Old Testament, experienced this feeling. Perhaps that is what makes David so beloved. He’s been where I've been and I’ve been where he's been. But it is remarkable that, in the depths of David’s situation, the very first words of Psalm 109 have to do with his relationship with God. David begins with “God of my praise”. It’s remarkable to me to note that David was still praising God at that time. I’m afraid that my spirit wouldn’t be one of praise. No, I tend to accuse and blame and complain. David, however, was praising. What does that say about his relationship to God as compared with mine? It causes me to feel ashamed. But even in the tender relationship that David had with God, I noticed that he still admonishes God into action. It appears that even for David, God seemed to tarry longer than He should, for David proclaims to God to not be silent. I can understand David’s concern. In difficult times, dark times, lonely times, the strength that I need comes with a word from God. I want to be reassured that He is still there; although, I know that He has never gone away. When I’m confused, what I need most is a word from God. When I seek guidance, what I need most is a word from God. When I’m heartbroken, what soothes my soul is a word from God. So I understand David when he begins his Psalm with, “Lord, do not be silent.” For with the sound of God’s word, my despair evaporates. Word Count= 450 |
| Topic: Blips Blips are also known as surprises, detours, roadblocks, hurdles or any other word or concept that inserts an interruption into our well ordered life. We can have large blimps like, “Dear, be seated. We are going to have a baby.”—major blip. They can be minor irritant blips like, “Dear, what’s it mean when this ‘engine’ light comes on? It really is very pretty.” We must realize that they are a very real part of life. They are unavoidable, like acne. We cannot ignore blips. Saying they aren’t there will not make them go away. A great truth in life is that we must realize that our charge is to learn how to deal with blips. We all do that differently. My children believe that they have discovered the sure solution for dealing with life’s blips. “Caution, blip ahead! Call Dad!” It warms my heart to realize that they are still dependent on me and my wife. But it also wears me out. Both of my children, who are grown men with children of their own refused, when they were young, to take “Blip Prevention” in life’s classroom. But then why should they as long as mom and dad handle their blips for them. I have been blipping (the art of handling blips) for years. I actually began blipping at the tender age of eighteen, when my wife, Linda, and I decided that we would play ‘grown-up’ and get married—monumental blip. Fortunately, in our early naïveté we knew no better. But my innocent, young bride and I quickly became master blippist. Our parents, having mastered blipping during the depression, realized that we would need to learn to handle blips on our own. With self-control forged by blipping during their own childhood they left us to our own resources. They knew that we must face our blips head-on and learn the old fashion way. We did. My greatest fear is that my boys will never master the art of blipping. Now that they have children of their own, we are heartened when we see them conquer minor blips. Unfortunately, they continually require assistance on the really major blips. And after all, that is what parents are for. However, I still look forward to the time when they will become blip-sufficient. I envision that the day will come when I lay on my deathbed, take my child’s hand, and admonish them to, “Go out there and win one for the Blipper.” I only pray that at that time they’ll know how. Word Count: 425 |
| Topic: Blank Pages Thoughts: What can be more challenging or frustrating to a writer than a blank page? Of course it all depends on the motivation of the moment as to how it will be received. To an inspired writer, the blank page is sculpture waiting for the waste to be chipped away and the masterpiece to be exposed. When I have an idea, there is often little need to outline the story. My mind and my fingers work in synchronized partnership to whittle away at the birthing story. Once finished I read the material as a first-timer and am amazed that I did that. In those moments the blank page is nothing more than a canvas to receive the media. The blankness is neither intimidating nor discouraging, but rather beckons me to fill its barren whiteness with words that create ideas and images that communicate. What a wonderful experience it is, with which those who write can identify. In those moments, when I am uninspired and totally clueless as to what I should write, the blank page is an uninviting and desolate desert. The whiteness of its colorless surface is blinding. The promise that words will magically appear, that mean something, is lost to me. No matter how much I stare at the page, inspiration just does not come. In those moments it seems my mind matches the blankness of the page. It is then that I must get down to work. And don’t be mistaken, it is work, pure and simple. I get out my writer’s tool chest. I first exercise my mind with some writing calisthenics. I randomly throw words on the page. At times they are just words. At times they are phrases—not even complete sentences. I develop it by putting an idea or two together. I look for a thread hidden among the words and ideas, just a tiny thread of thought that may tie them together. Often it is not there. No problem, it was just an exercise—calisthenics. But occasionally, there is a shimmer of a thought there, a hint of an idea. I nudge it with a few more words. Introduce it with a simple thought; expand on it with a few more thoughts. I sit back and realize that it’s a full-blown idea. Fingers and mind can now do their magic on the beckoning blank page. Word Count = 400 |
| Topic: Security Thoughts: There cannot be total peace or happiness in a life that is not secure. One may enjoy a measure of those things, but the gnawing feeling of uncertainty will eventually cast a shadow over the life that is not secure. There are at least four areas in our lives that must be secure in order to have significant peace and happiness. These consist of our financial situation, our physical situation, our relationships, and our spirituality. What level of security is desired? I believe that we should reach a point where we are reasonably confident that we have attained and hopefully increased our fair portion in those areas. Financial security then, for me, is the assurance that I can live at my present lifestyle for the remainder of my life. Physical security is being self-sufficient and completely mobile, having the ability to reason and communicate, this of course includes writing. Security in my relationships is having family who love me, friends who like me, and associates who respect me. And lastly, but in no where least, spiritual security is having an intimate relationship with God. Can I have all of that? I don't know. I can have much of it. Financial security has been a battle all my life. I am confident that I can live the remainder of my life at a lower standard than I now live. That may be good enough. However, I don't want to settle for good enough. Physical security is an elusive goal. As we get older our systems decrease in efficiency. Eventually, we all lose this goal. Security in relationships has been attained. I am quite fortunate in that area. Likewise, spiritual security has also been assured. So, what is my conclusion regarding security? I'm content at where I stand--not totally satisfied, but content. Does that mean that I'm not happy?--not at all. But it means that the peace of my being, although tremendous, is not yet complete. I can experience love--and do. I can love and be loved. I can be happy--and am. And, I am physically and mentally healthy. One could conclude that I've attained an optimum level of security in life--well, I'm getting there. Word Count = 375 |
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