Near Cripple Creek, CO gold and tellurium occur mixed as tellurite ore. The refining methods in early mining camps could not separate the two elements and so the ore was tossed into piles with the rest of the garbage. A rookie miner grabbed some of this tossed ore thinking it was coal into his stove to keep him warm in the mountains. It didn’t work well but it was cheap so he went through a lot of it mixed with coal dust and other garbage he could scrounge. Jumping ahead of me you probably know what happened. Eventually he had to get the ashes from his stove and in the bottom he found purified gold sitting in little beads mixed in his ashes. He became a very wealthy rookie miner.
On April 21, 2006 the news told us that a man was caught trying to sell his daughter. She was five years old and from a previous marriage where her mother didn’t want her so left her with her father. The father took her and a few years later tried to sell her for $7000. When the father was asked what he was thinking he simply stated that he needed the money for “home improvements.”
Children are tellurite ore. They are more precious than you can imagine yet often end up on the garbage heap for various reasons. Sometimes we simply are too lazy to work at separating the gold from the tellurium. Sometimes we just don’t see the gold at all and sell them for whatever we can get for them. Sometimes we fear discipline and putting our ore through the fire to smelt out the garbage and form something golden pure.
I don’t know what that father was thinking but he needs a smack on the side of the head if not more just to get his mind straight. When you look at your children and/or the children of others look at them a gold waiting to be found and burst into the open. Treat them that preciously and we will have a much richer society as a result.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Using your Muscles
We all know how important it is to use your muscles. Use them or lose them; no pain, no gain; just do it; is it in you; and all those other strong phrases. I can remember taking the cast off my leg for the first time in 4 months after my knee surgery. I had strong legs and my legs were my best asset playing basketball. I had a 42-inch vertical jump as a sophomore in High School. I could stuff a basketball backwards and forwards and my legs put me ahead of my competitors. I landed wrong once … tore my knee into pieces and my basketball career along with it. The doctor cut the cast with one of those cool saws they use and removed the plaster and unwrapped my leg. I looked at my leg and promptly fainted. From the top my leg looked only an inch and a half wide and when I looked from the side I could see all my muscles hanging and waving in the breeze. Four months of total inaction had turned my best asset into a Jello-like mass of flesh.
There is a series of muscles on your face that when you exercise you do more than build there strength … you can lighten up a room and people’s hearts. The strength of these muscles combined can heal, protect and change the course of history. These muscles, when combined in a certain way, form a smile on your face. These muscles must be exercised in both your mouth and your eyes.
I worked third shift when my wife and I were first married. Our oldest son was a baby being fed breakfast in his highchair when I would come home from an exhausting day at work. I would wearily open the front door after 8-10 hours and be greeted by my son exercising those muscles, as he would turn to see me coming in the door. In the shadow of that bright smile everything else melted away: my exhaustion, my complaints, my bills, my weariness. All these were gone with a returned smile.
How’s your exercise going? Are your smiling muscles flabby or buff? Take time for a little exercise to brighten up the day of all those around you. I think you will find your day gets brighter as well.
www.themoralbusiness.com
There is a series of muscles on your face that when you exercise you do more than build there strength … you can lighten up a room and people’s hearts. The strength of these muscles combined can heal, protect and change the course of history. These muscles, when combined in a certain way, form a smile on your face. These muscles must be exercised in both your mouth and your eyes.
I worked third shift when my wife and I were first married. Our oldest son was a baby being fed breakfast in his highchair when I would come home from an exhausting day at work. I would wearily open the front door after 8-10 hours and be greeted by my son exercising those muscles, as he would turn to see me coming in the door. In the shadow of that bright smile everything else melted away: my exhaustion, my complaints, my bills, my weariness. All these were gone with a returned smile.
How’s your exercise going? Are your smiling muscles flabby or buff? Take time for a little exercise to brighten up the day of all those around you. I think you will find your day gets brighter as well.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The Godfather
Many of you who know me know that I am unnaturally drawn to a mafia lifestyle. I love the Godfather movies, Goodfella’s and even The Soprano’s (first two seasons anyway, the next seasons got a little redundant). Maybe that was one of the draws for me moving to Las Vegas …
The whole concept of a “Godfather” is fascinating. Coming out of Roman Catholic tradition the Godfather is more than just a guy who witnesses a baptism for the father and mother. The Godfather is a man who takes responsibility for the religious upbringing of the child. In some places it even means financial and social responsibilities for the child. The Godfather sponsors the baptism, the first communion and even the marriage of the child. The original intent was for the Godfather to take responsibility for the faith of the child.
Getting the parents help with the religious upbringing of children is a great idea. Churches today have lost that concept, the sense that we are responsible for the children within our church. Now don’t get me wrong … I am not a socialist … I believe that the reason the government has had to take over the support of children, widows, and poor is because the church has been sleeping on the job. Support for the hungry and hurting is the responsibility of the church family NOT the government.
Now Coppola and Puzo distorted the whole Godfather principal with their movies by making it power related and extremely dichotic. They made it a play on the conflict between good and bad within all of us. But the Godfather and Godmother ideal is a great one … and one that all our churches and other families need to adopt.
After all “A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.” (Vito Corleone in the Godfather, Part 1)
www.themoralbusiness.com
The whole concept of a “Godfather” is fascinating. Coming out of Roman Catholic tradition the Godfather is more than just a guy who witnesses a baptism for the father and mother. The Godfather is a man who takes responsibility for the religious upbringing of the child. In some places it even means financial and social responsibilities for the child. The Godfather sponsors the baptism, the first communion and even the marriage of the child. The original intent was for the Godfather to take responsibility for the faith of the child.
Getting the parents help with the religious upbringing of children is a great idea. Churches today have lost that concept, the sense that we are responsible for the children within our church. Now don’t get me wrong … I am not a socialist … I believe that the reason the government has had to take over the support of children, widows, and poor is because the church has been sleeping on the job. Support for the hungry and hurting is the responsibility of the church family NOT the government.
Now Coppola and Puzo distorted the whole Godfather principal with their movies by making it power related and extremely dichotic. They made it a play on the conflict between good and bad within all of us. But the Godfather and Godmother ideal is a great one … and one that all our churches and other families need to adopt.
After all “A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.” (Vito Corleone in the Godfather, Part 1)
www.themoralbusiness.com
SEX
There … did I get your attention? Why does that little three letter word fill our minds with all sorts of good and bad images? Sex.
What is it? Now wait … I am not talking about the act itself, I’m talking about your characterization of it. Is sex a privilege? Is sex a right for all humans? Is sex simply a biological act? Is sex surface, feel good activity? Is sex a deep, heart felt action? What is sex?
As I write this Canada has just approved the first license for a gay couple to get married. Is this simply an effort to legitimize sex? Is this a long overdue step into the 21st Century?
I am asked, as a Pastor, to do “commitment” ceremonies between gay and lesbian couples as well as heterosexual couples wishing to do without the legal document for one reason or another.
Sex ruins lives and fulfills them. Sex consummates peasants and brings down presidents. Sex drives the pharmaceutical industry and the advertising industry. Sex sells cars, bars and jars of lotions. Sex.
There are only two ways to look at sex. The first way is through biological eyes. These eyes see sex as simply an act for pleasure between two consenting adults. It gives you pleasure and when no one is hurt then it must be good. Therefore there is no difference between homo’ and hetero’ sex. There is no difference between married and single. The second way to look at sex is through biblical eyes. These eyes see sex NOT as something evil, but as something amazing, beautiful and special. Something that is so special and powerful that it can ONLY be contained in a committed marriage relationship. That is the only structure that can control the power of sex. In fact, the Bible calls that flesh-bond (sex) stronger than any family bond you may have. So the person(s) you have had sex with are now closer than your parents and siblings. A VERY strong bond!
So how would you characterize sex: biologically or biblically? These are really the only two ways. All of your actions are determined by these views. What you watch on TV, what you do in private, where you go, who you see, what you sacrifice; all are determined by your view of sex.
www.themoralbusiness.com
What is it? Now wait … I am not talking about the act itself, I’m talking about your characterization of it. Is sex a privilege? Is sex a right for all humans? Is sex simply a biological act? Is sex surface, feel good activity? Is sex a deep, heart felt action? What is sex?
As I write this Canada has just approved the first license for a gay couple to get married. Is this simply an effort to legitimize sex? Is this a long overdue step into the 21st Century?
I am asked, as a Pastor, to do “commitment” ceremonies between gay and lesbian couples as well as heterosexual couples wishing to do without the legal document for one reason or another.
Sex ruins lives and fulfills them. Sex consummates peasants and brings down presidents. Sex drives the pharmaceutical industry and the advertising industry. Sex sells cars, bars and jars of lotions. Sex.
There are only two ways to look at sex. The first way is through biological eyes. These eyes see sex as simply an act for pleasure between two consenting adults. It gives you pleasure and when no one is hurt then it must be good. Therefore there is no difference between homo’ and hetero’ sex. There is no difference between married and single. The second way to look at sex is through biblical eyes. These eyes see sex NOT as something evil, but as something amazing, beautiful and special. Something that is so special and powerful that it can ONLY be contained in a committed marriage relationship. That is the only structure that can control the power of sex. In fact, the Bible calls that flesh-bond (sex) stronger than any family bond you may have. So the person(s) you have had sex with are now closer than your parents and siblings. A VERY strong bond!
So how would you characterize sex: biologically or biblically? These are really the only two ways. All of your actions are determined by these views. What you watch on TV, what you do in private, where you go, who you see, what you sacrifice; all are determined by your view of sex.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Cockroaches
I walked out onto my patio last night and flipped the outside light on. Scampering across the concrete, almost too fast to see, were a plethora of cockroaches. Some large, some small, some black, some yellow, some brownish-red, some winged, some even looked like they were smiling at me. They streaked across the floor faster than Neo dodging bullets, and hid again in the dark recesses of the flower bed and cracks in the concrete.
I am often asked why God created cockroaches. And if they were before the Fall or if they were a result of sin and disobedience. Like God said to Adam, “By the sweat of your brow you will tend your crops and you will be plagued by big, ugly, disgusting, multi-legged, smiling creatures.” The fact is … I don’t know. While now they are an ugly nuisance they might have been created to be cute little creatures.
What I find interesting is the fact that people “believe” there must be a purpose to cockroaches. There must be a reason for them to exist. There must be a purpose for why we have mosquitoes, duckbilled platypuses, ostriches, and cockroaches. Why is that interesting? It is interesting because our world claims that all of this came by chance and by millions of accidents billions of years ago. We claim there is no purpose, no intelligence, simply survival and mutation. It is interesting because we claim no God then believe in purpose and design.
So is there a reason for cockroaches? Maybe. Is there a reason for the universe and all that happens therein? Absolutely! Do we completely understand that reasoning? Partially, but not completely.
So next time I walk out onto my patio in see the scampering bugs, I will pause … contemplate our place in the universe and the intelligence in the design … then squash them for the nasty nuisance they are.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I am often asked why God created cockroaches. And if they were before the Fall or if they were a result of sin and disobedience. Like God said to Adam, “By the sweat of your brow you will tend your crops and you will be plagued by big, ugly, disgusting, multi-legged, smiling creatures.” The fact is … I don’t know. While now they are an ugly nuisance they might have been created to be cute little creatures.
What I find interesting is the fact that people “believe” there must be a purpose to cockroaches. There must be a reason for them to exist. There must be a purpose for why we have mosquitoes, duckbilled platypuses, ostriches, and cockroaches. Why is that interesting? It is interesting because our world claims that all of this came by chance and by millions of accidents billions of years ago. We claim there is no purpose, no intelligence, simply survival and mutation. It is interesting because we claim no God then believe in purpose and design.
So is there a reason for cockroaches? Maybe. Is there a reason for the universe and all that happens therein? Absolutely! Do we completely understand that reasoning? Partially, but not completely.
So next time I walk out onto my patio in see the scampering bugs, I will pause … contemplate our place in the universe and the intelligence in the design … then squash them for the nasty nuisance they are.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Mundane Miracles
Every now and again I am struck by the miracles of life. Many of these miracles you will find in the mundane things. I’ve opined about my fingernails and navel fuzz in the past. One thing that has been on my mind lately is a chair. Chairs. I think we take chairs for granted. Chairs are everywhere and we don’t even notice them until we cannot find them.
The DMV is notoriously short on chairs, so is the doctor’s office and just about any party you’ve ever been to. I am sitting on a chair right now. It is a Herman Miller high back office chair on wheels. I’ve tried other chairs but they don’t seem to “fit” me the way this one does. You sit in 4 – 5 different chairs every day. From your bedroom dressing chair, to your kitchen chair, to your vehicle, to you office chair, break room chair, to your home easy chair. There are thousands of different kinds, shapes and colors of chairs.
I thought I would look up the history of the chair so I went to our modern “know-it-all” the Internet. I could not find a thing about the history of the chair. Every search I tried came up with the “chair” of some college department. So here’s how I think the history of the chair came about.
Adam and Eve were wandering around the garden and life was good. They never got tired of walking and standing because well … they never got tired. Then they disobeyed God and started to get tired. Adam now toiled over the weed infested garden and got tired. A tree fell close to his garden and he laid his newly fashioned hoe up against it and sat down. “Hey!” and an idea was born. His thoughts were interrupted by Eve in yelling about her sore back from her pregnancy. Adam came running. “If I just could quit standing for a while. This baby is killing me!” Adam found two trees down in the perfect position and Eve could recline in comfort. “How’d you find this?” she asked. “I was tired so I just sat down and viola!” Eve replied, “You are such a lazy boy!” and the rest is history.
I thank God for chairs. I thank God for human creativity and ingenuity. Next time you sit down to relax have a little prayer in that sigh of relief.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The DMV is notoriously short on chairs, so is the doctor’s office and just about any party you’ve ever been to. I am sitting on a chair right now. It is a Herman Miller high back office chair on wheels. I’ve tried other chairs but they don’t seem to “fit” me the way this one does. You sit in 4 – 5 different chairs every day. From your bedroom dressing chair, to your kitchen chair, to your vehicle, to you office chair, break room chair, to your home easy chair. There are thousands of different kinds, shapes and colors of chairs.
I thought I would look up the history of the chair so I went to our modern “know-it-all” the Internet. I could not find a thing about the history of the chair. Every search I tried came up with the “chair” of some college department. So here’s how I think the history of the chair came about.
Adam and Eve were wandering around the garden and life was good. They never got tired of walking and standing because well … they never got tired. Then they disobeyed God and started to get tired. Adam now toiled over the weed infested garden and got tired. A tree fell close to his garden and he laid his newly fashioned hoe up against it and sat down. “Hey!” and an idea was born. His thoughts were interrupted by Eve in yelling about her sore back from her pregnancy. Adam came running. “If I just could quit standing for a while. This baby is killing me!” Adam found two trees down in the perfect position and Eve could recline in comfort. “How’d you find this?” she asked. “I was tired so I just sat down and viola!” Eve replied, “You are such a lazy boy!” and the rest is history.
I thank God for chairs. I thank God for human creativity and ingenuity. Next time you sit down to relax have a little prayer in that sigh of relief.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
My Battle with Ockham
While digging a trench next to my house I found it filling up with water. While I knew there were water pipes close by I could not imagine that I ruptured them with how carefully I dug the trench. Yet the trench was filling with water. So I dug some more to find the close by water pipes and found they were not ruptured. The next possibility was the pipes I was laying were bringing water from some other leak somewhere, but the pipe was dry.
Now what?
After a few days of being stymied I noticed a tree on the opposite side of my house which had a divot around it full of water even though the rest of the trees were dry. The water main from the road to my house was under that tree. I dug it up and found a leak in the main. This leak had been soaking my yard, finding its way to the other side of my house to fill the trench I had dug. Fixing the main leak fixed my trench problem 50 foot away.
In 1300’s William of Ockham proposed his famous “razor” stating that the simplest plausible explanation for a problem is the best. Not in my case, in fact I find more often than not the complicated solution is more likely true. I would like to propose the Wunderink Razor which simply states: “It’s never easy.” Or as Rosanna Rosanna Danna would always say, “it’s always something.’” My wife might ask me to do a “easy” job around the house. But that easy job takes five trips to the local Home Depot, two new tools, and countless band-aids. It’s never easy.
I find the same with people. When someone is angry at me it usually isn’t the easy answer that is the best. If there is a simple, easy reason like spilled milk on the table where mom gets angry, chances are it isn’t the spilled milk. The mom was ignored by the dad in the morning, the baby has a slight temperature, the car needs to go in the shop, the working at home is slow getting started, the kids are loud and fighting, the in-laws are coming soon with their demands, and THEN the milk is spilled. It’s never easy.
Maybe in the 1300’s in Ockham’s world the easiest answer was the best but today … I think Wunderink’s Razor works better. It’s never easy.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Now what?
After a few days of being stymied I noticed a tree on the opposite side of my house which had a divot around it full of water even though the rest of the trees were dry. The water main from the road to my house was under that tree. I dug it up and found a leak in the main. This leak had been soaking my yard, finding its way to the other side of my house to fill the trench I had dug. Fixing the main leak fixed my trench problem 50 foot away.
In 1300’s William of Ockham proposed his famous “razor” stating that the simplest plausible explanation for a problem is the best. Not in my case, in fact I find more often than not the complicated solution is more likely true. I would like to propose the Wunderink Razor which simply states: “It’s never easy.” Or as Rosanna Rosanna Danna would always say, “it’s always something.’” My wife might ask me to do a “easy” job around the house. But that easy job takes five trips to the local Home Depot, two new tools, and countless band-aids. It’s never easy.
I find the same with people. When someone is angry at me it usually isn’t the easy answer that is the best. If there is a simple, easy reason like spilled milk on the table where mom gets angry, chances are it isn’t the spilled milk. The mom was ignored by the dad in the morning, the baby has a slight temperature, the car needs to go in the shop, the working at home is slow getting started, the kids are loud and fighting, the in-laws are coming soon with their demands, and THEN the milk is spilled. It’s never easy.
Maybe in the 1300’s in Ockham’s world the easiest answer was the best but today … I think Wunderink’s Razor works better. It’s never easy.
www.themoralbusiness.com
The Story of a Person
This is the story of a person. A person who got up before 5 am every morning to do something this person didn’t want to do. A person who smiles and laughs when the other isn’t funny or even pleasant to be around. A person who never got paid in full for the work they did. A person who is required to push pleasure into the background and keep pain up front. A person who goes where they don’t want to go, sees things they don’t want to see and does what they don’t want to do. A person who, when tired, angry, weary, annoyed, not understanding, seeing no benefit, getting nothing out of it, would rather be home sleeping, still does the thing.
Do you know the person? Have you seen this person? No? This is the person we should all strive to be. It is the person we admire the most but are usually the least like. It is the person we are “sometimes” and that gives us a little peace with the fact that we are not at all times. We admire this person but complain when we must be like them.
I witnessed the retirement of a man who was a person like this. This man worked for 54 years for one company. That is not that unusual but what is unusual is the fact that in the 54 years he didn’t have one sick day. In those 54 years he put all seven of his children through college. Four of them were daughters that he paid for their marriage. Six of them used him as a bank to finance their first homes. In those 54 years he stayed married to the same women for 52 and buried her next to an open spot for him someday. This person did all of this and more with the wage of a janitor who, when retired, made the largest salary of his life: an astounding $22,000 a year! Amazing and almost unbelievable.
We admire this person and many others like him. The grandmother who, instead of retiring, takes the role of raising her grandchildren when the parent can’t or won’t. The mom who works two full time jobs to provide for a fatherless home. The athletes who give up adolescence for the love of competition. We admire them but we just don’t want to be them. We appreciate them but we don’t want to do what they do.
This is the story of a person that I have trouble finding and don’t see as often as I should. I miss them.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Do you know the person? Have you seen this person? No? This is the person we should all strive to be. It is the person we admire the most but are usually the least like. It is the person we are “sometimes” and that gives us a little peace with the fact that we are not at all times. We admire this person but complain when we must be like them.
I witnessed the retirement of a man who was a person like this. This man worked for 54 years for one company. That is not that unusual but what is unusual is the fact that in the 54 years he didn’t have one sick day. In those 54 years he put all seven of his children through college. Four of them were daughters that he paid for their marriage. Six of them used him as a bank to finance their first homes. In those 54 years he stayed married to the same women for 52 and buried her next to an open spot for him someday. This person did all of this and more with the wage of a janitor who, when retired, made the largest salary of his life: an astounding $22,000 a year! Amazing and almost unbelievable.
We admire this person and many others like him. The grandmother who, instead of retiring, takes the role of raising her grandchildren when the parent can’t or won’t. The mom who works two full time jobs to provide for a fatherless home. The athletes who give up adolescence for the love of competition. We admire them but we just don’t want to be them. We appreciate them but we don’t want to do what they do.
This is the story of a person that I have trouble finding and don’t see as often as I should. I miss them.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Easy Money
I got three more in the mail today! Boy! If I would just cash these things in I would be a millionaire! I’m sure you get them too. Those official looking window envelopes with “Pay to the Order of …” in the window that compels you to open. Simply sign the back and deposit for easy money to use on anything you wish. It’s tax deductible since it is attached to your home as another low-interest mortgage. I am sure you, like me, run right to the bank when we get them.
Also in my mail is a few blank checks attached to my credit card statement. Already having my name on them all I have to do is write whatever I want in “Pay to the Order of …” blank and send it off, or cash it. Nice.
I remember a time when I couldn’t get credit even if it was already biting my backside. Try to get a rental car without a credit card, or reserve a hotel. Now I could get 3-4 cards a week plus add a 2nd, 3rd, 4th and even a 5th mortgage onto my home. Easy money!
It used to be the junk mail was full of “You may have already won …!” or “Call now for one of five prizes you’ve already won!” My wife and I got a nice set of luggage from one of those once. (Hint: take young kids along with you, let them run wild and your time will be cut REAL short.) Now our junk mail is full of blank checks promising easy money and low interest.
I don’t know if it is because my wife and I are “approaching” middle age and a relatively stable income or whether scams have just changed their tack. And now you HAVE to shred all these blank checks to make sure that no one else takes advantage of these “great” offers. Easy money.
As I have now passed through that time of high interest debt that it seems we all have to experience at least once, I realize that easy money really isn’t that easy. There is no replacement for hard money. Money that it took time and energy to accumulate. Money that is a result of schooling, expertise, and a dedicated amount of time. Easy money breeds accounting incompetence.
My best investment advice is this … buy a paper shredder. You’ll be amazed at the dividends.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Also in my mail is a few blank checks attached to my credit card statement. Already having my name on them all I have to do is write whatever I want in “Pay to the Order of …” blank and send it off, or cash it. Nice.
I remember a time when I couldn’t get credit even if it was already biting my backside. Try to get a rental car without a credit card, or reserve a hotel. Now I could get 3-4 cards a week plus add a 2nd, 3rd, 4th and even a 5th mortgage onto my home. Easy money!
It used to be the junk mail was full of “You may have already won …!” or “Call now for one of five prizes you’ve already won!” My wife and I got a nice set of luggage from one of those once. (Hint: take young kids along with you, let them run wild and your time will be cut REAL short.) Now our junk mail is full of blank checks promising easy money and low interest.
I don’t know if it is because my wife and I are “approaching” middle age and a relatively stable income or whether scams have just changed their tack. And now you HAVE to shred all these blank checks to make sure that no one else takes advantage of these “great” offers. Easy money.
As I have now passed through that time of high interest debt that it seems we all have to experience at least once, I realize that easy money really isn’t that easy. There is no replacement for hard money. Money that it took time and energy to accumulate. Money that is a result of schooling, expertise, and a dedicated amount of time. Easy money breeds accounting incompetence.
My best investment advice is this … buy a paper shredder. You’ll be amazed at the dividends.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Blood
An amazing liquid is blood. Blood carries oxygen and nutrients like a grey hound bus to your body, deposits it and heads back to the heart loaded with so much garbage to be filtered and sent packing. Blood gathers together to form a wall preventing itself from draining out of your body and begins the healing process.
Blood is a name for family. Blood is a vital part of many religious services. Blood is evidence. But blood also carries alcohol and drugs. Blood gets thinned, gets tainted, and gets deadly with diseases and viruses.
An amazing liquid is blood. There are doctors who specialize in it. Specialists who doctor in it, nurses who draw it, drawers full of it and horror stories flooded with it.
Leeches were once on the cusp of modern medicine because they drew blood, all of us would be in line for a good bleeding once a year or so to keep us healthy. Someday soon “opening up” a person for surgery will be primitive and donating blood will be leech-like.
Fearfully and wonderfully put together is blood. But also is an amazing thing that blood feeds our brains so we can think up these modern ways of using (or not using) blood to heal and protect.
Next time you give blood, next time you bleed think of how amazing that liquid is. Think of how wonderfully put together we are and finally say a little prayer of thanks for the creative ability injected into us by our maker.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Blood is a name for family. Blood is a vital part of many religious services. Blood is evidence. But blood also carries alcohol and drugs. Blood gets thinned, gets tainted, and gets deadly with diseases and viruses.
An amazing liquid is blood. There are doctors who specialize in it. Specialists who doctor in it, nurses who draw it, drawers full of it and horror stories flooded with it.
Leeches were once on the cusp of modern medicine because they drew blood, all of us would be in line for a good bleeding once a year or so to keep us healthy. Someday soon “opening up” a person for surgery will be primitive and donating blood will be leech-like.
Fearfully and wonderfully put together is blood. But also is an amazing thing that blood feeds our brains so we can think up these modern ways of using (or not using) blood to heal and protect.
Next time you give blood, next time you bleed think of how amazing that liquid is. Think of how wonderfully put together we are and finally say a little prayer of thanks for the creative ability injected into us by our maker.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Let’s Talk Sex
For almost 40 years now the sexual revolution has had it’s impact on America. In the 60’s an advisory group including clergy would preview every new Hollywood movie to see if it was appropriate. This was even before it was given a rating (G, PG, or R. PG13 and X didn’t exist yet). Television was closely monitored and protected. Now … well, you know what has happened as much as I do. Protection of children from explicit material WAS in the hands of government and media but now it is in the hands of parents and teachers. We have heard the mantra repeated over and over again in various forms that tell us: “The more information our kids have the better decision they can make about their own sexuality.”
To that, I politely say, “hogwash!” I believe the last forty years have taught us that what kids need is LESS information about sex. MORE information has brought us a nation of oversexed kids. MORE information has brought us a nation where kids don’t even know that they DON’T have to have sex. Most think that right now it is a requirement of high school graduation, and certainly a requirement of entrance into college. You don’t believe me? Look at every survey of teen sexuality and you will find that kids are having sex at a younger age and with more and more partners – both male and female. Teens will look at you with blank eyes when you ask them why they are having sex with a person they really don’t even know – it is like asking them why they breath air. MORE information on sex has given our kids an extremely educated confusion.
I am tired of it. I am tired of seeing sex on almost every TV show. I am tired of seeing it in magazines and movies and music videos. I am tired of it. I am becoming more and more convinced that the problem is too much information. I long for the days when teens were embarrassed about sex, when teen pregnancy was a stigma and feared. I know … I know … you can always turn off the TV, turn off the radio, and even quit going to places that promote it. But I am afraid we cannot close Pandora’s Box again. It took one generation to get into sex – it will take many generations to make it proper again. But it is time to start.
www.themoralbusiness.com
To that, I politely say, “hogwash!” I believe the last forty years have taught us that what kids need is LESS information about sex. MORE information has brought us a nation of oversexed kids. MORE information has brought us a nation where kids don’t even know that they DON’T have to have sex. Most think that right now it is a requirement of high school graduation, and certainly a requirement of entrance into college. You don’t believe me? Look at every survey of teen sexuality and you will find that kids are having sex at a younger age and with more and more partners – both male and female. Teens will look at you with blank eyes when you ask them why they are having sex with a person they really don’t even know – it is like asking them why they breath air. MORE information on sex has given our kids an extremely educated confusion.
I am tired of it. I am tired of seeing sex on almost every TV show. I am tired of seeing it in magazines and movies and music videos. I am tired of it. I am becoming more and more convinced that the problem is too much information. I long for the days when teens were embarrassed about sex, when teen pregnancy was a stigma and feared. I know … I know … you can always turn off the TV, turn off the radio, and even quit going to places that promote it. But I am afraid we cannot close Pandora’s Box again. It took one generation to get into sex – it will take many generations to make it proper again. But it is time to start.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Taking a Walk
Sometimes I am absentminded. I will forget things. I am coming to believe that I have a limited amount of hard drive in my mind and things need to be downloaded for anything new to be stored. So I left my key in my truck and locked the door. Frankie and my kids were all unavailable for picking up my key from home so I thought it was a nice day for a walk.
My office is only three miles from my home but I drive everyday, sometimes 2-3 times in a day back and forth, but I have never walked it. In my truck the world passes by more like television then like reality. The windows provide a view of the world where I can be there, but unattached, unengaged and distracted with my own thoughts.
At first all I noticed was the cars whipping by too close for comfort. I noticed the garbage piled up on the fences, broken bottles and plastic remainders of a long ago accident. After another half mile I noticed the smells. I smelled trees and shrubs along the way, smelled the wet sand and pavement and many more things. Pine trees trimmed to allow someone shorter than six feet to pass uninterrupted shaded the sidewalk but I am one inch taller than that and so the needles brushed my hair back as I passed underneath. Wayne Newton’s ranch is on the way and I had the opportunity to stop and watch his horses and spindly-legged colts romp around in the sprinklers watering their dinner.
I walked through my own neighborhood enjoying the homes and smell of freshly mowed lawns. Neighbors said, “How’s it goin’” as I passed, we talked briefly. In my neighborhood park, kids were playing basketball and practicing soccer or just sitting in the grass enjoying the sunshine. It was a beautiful day … and I was in it. Let me say that again. It was a beautiful day and I was IN it. I wasn’t driving by watching it from my windshield … I was IN it.
Maybe being a little absent minded wasn’t too bad after all. Quit driving by your community and neighbors, get IN your community. Smell the smells, see the sights and walk the roads. That is one big step in turning a house into a home and turning a bunch of houses into a neighborhood.
www.themoralbusiness.com
My office is only three miles from my home but I drive everyday, sometimes 2-3 times in a day back and forth, but I have never walked it. In my truck the world passes by more like television then like reality. The windows provide a view of the world where I can be there, but unattached, unengaged and distracted with my own thoughts.
At first all I noticed was the cars whipping by too close for comfort. I noticed the garbage piled up on the fences, broken bottles and plastic remainders of a long ago accident. After another half mile I noticed the smells. I smelled trees and shrubs along the way, smelled the wet sand and pavement and many more things. Pine trees trimmed to allow someone shorter than six feet to pass uninterrupted shaded the sidewalk but I am one inch taller than that and so the needles brushed my hair back as I passed underneath. Wayne Newton’s ranch is on the way and I had the opportunity to stop and watch his horses and spindly-legged colts romp around in the sprinklers watering their dinner.
I walked through my own neighborhood enjoying the homes and smell of freshly mowed lawns. Neighbors said, “How’s it goin’” as I passed, we talked briefly. In my neighborhood park, kids were playing basketball and practicing soccer or just sitting in the grass enjoying the sunshine. It was a beautiful day … and I was in it. Let me say that again. It was a beautiful day and I was IN it. I wasn’t driving by watching it from my windshield … I was IN it.
Maybe being a little absent minded wasn’t too bad after all. Quit driving by your community and neighbors, get IN your community. Smell the smells, see the sights and walk the roads. That is one big step in turning a house into a home and turning a bunch of houses into a neighborhood.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Thursday, April 13, 2006
The Sliver
We have all had them. Slivers. I have huge “farmer” hands as opposed to thin-fingered “artists” hands so I have a hard time finding gloves to fit. The largest gloves out there I can, after a few hours, get onto my hands but don’t allow me to move my fingers. So usually I work bare-handed when I work outside in the yard or on a construction project. So I get a lot of slivers, A LOT of slivers.
I have taken to naming my slivers. First you have the 2x4. That is the sliver that is the size of a 2x4, hurts a lot and bleeds a lot but is easy to remove. Then you have the dagger. The dagger is the kind of sliver that just kind of slips in at an angle into your skin and breaks off. It is shaped like a dagger, usually not too deep, not too painful, just annoying and normally you can remove it by pincer-ing your fingernails. Next is the mole. The mole is that sliver that is small and gets under you skin, it is an annoying, nagging pain. You cannot get this mole without the use of a pin and tweezers. Lastly you have the bullet sliver. This sliver goes straight down into you skin and no matter how much digging with a pin or a tweezers you do; you cannot find it or dislodge it. It is there to stay.
My last sliver was a bullet. It was buried into a part of my hand that I used frequently so every time it held something the bullet sent a shock through my hand reminding me it was still there. I dug and dug trying to get it out, even thinking I had it a few times, but to no avail. Nothing short of going to an emergency room would have gotten it out of my hand. So I decided to do the only thing I could do … I ignored it.
I ignored it and it healed over, with the sliver inside. Eventually I forgot it as the reminders got less and less intense. A month later I looked at my hand and found a little black spot surrounded by white, pimple-like puss. With a little pinch and a wipe I had that long forgotten bullet sliver on the end of my finger. I looked at it remembering all the pain it caused me and all the time I spent digging at it. Then I threw it away.
Now the lesson I learned from this was NOT “if you ignore a problem it will go away.” The lesson I learned was about how amazing our bodies are. I spent all that time and energy and, if I would have gone to the emergency room, all that money to do what my body and a little time took care of on its own. We are really “fearfully and wonderfully made.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
I have taken to naming my slivers. First you have the 2x4. That is the sliver that is the size of a 2x4, hurts a lot and bleeds a lot but is easy to remove. Then you have the dagger. The dagger is the kind of sliver that just kind of slips in at an angle into your skin and breaks off. It is shaped like a dagger, usually not too deep, not too painful, just annoying and normally you can remove it by pincer-ing your fingernails. Next is the mole. The mole is that sliver that is small and gets under you skin, it is an annoying, nagging pain. You cannot get this mole without the use of a pin and tweezers. Lastly you have the bullet sliver. This sliver goes straight down into you skin and no matter how much digging with a pin or a tweezers you do; you cannot find it or dislodge it. It is there to stay.
My last sliver was a bullet. It was buried into a part of my hand that I used frequently so every time it held something the bullet sent a shock through my hand reminding me it was still there. I dug and dug trying to get it out, even thinking I had it a few times, but to no avail. Nothing short of going to an emergency room would have gotten it out of my hand. So I decided to do the only thing I could do … I ignored it.
I ignored it and it healed over, with the sliver inside. Eventually I forgot it as the reminders got less and less intense. A month later I looked at my hand and found a little black spot surrounded by white, pimple-like puss. With a little pinch and a wipe I had that long forgotten bullet sliver on the end of my finger. I looked at it remembering all the pain it caused me and all the time I spent digging at it. Then I threw it away.
Now the lesson I learned from this was NOT “if you ignore a problem it will go away.” The lesson I learned was about how amazing our bodies are. I spent all that time and energy and, if I would have gone to the emergency room, all that money to do what my body and a little time took care of on its own. We are really “fearfully and wonderfully made.”
www.themoralbusiness.com
Red Paint
It was a cool, fall, Saturday morning in Michigan. A few friends from work and I were crawling through the woods hunting strangers dressed in camouflage jackets, hats, pants and even face paint. In the large course I spent the first fifteen minutes wandering by myself. I was about to give up finding anything that moved so I started shooting trees and remarking on the pretty yellow splatter on the white birch. While I was examining the yellow I was suddenly felt a jolt in my shoulder and wetness splatter my ear and jaw. I looked and I was hit … red paint covered my left side and stuck like goop in my hair. A big smile crossed a camouflaged face that I never saw before that moment. I slowly walked to the corral for dead people to wait out the rest of the game. I joined my friends, all of us nice, clean cut, intelligent businessmen now splattered with red paint and sad faces. “I never even got a shot off,” one said. I answered: “I killed a birch tree.”
In the next game we hung together and decided that our friendship would protect us from the red splatter. We crawled through the underbrush, grubbing up our elbows and knees with dirt. We scanned the trees and woods for the enemy. We saw some movement and four of us unloaded on the bush where we saw the movement. A little bunny rabbit hopped away with a confused look on its face and little yellow paint spots all over it. We looked at each other and laughed. Then … “BAP … BAP … BAPBAP” all four of us felt the now familiar hit of a paintball on our backs. We turned to see three sets of grinning teeth surrounded by brown and green greasepaint. Another long walk to the dead man corral to sit out the rest of the game.
It seemed like everything we tried only got us killed. Nothing we could do could save us from the inevitable red spatter now completely covering us from head to toe. We tried solo and we tried together. We tried rushing in shooting all the while and we tried stealth. We tried random shooting and we tried shooting at planned targets. We tried everything with only one outcome … death.
The last game of the day was on the “short track.” A small basketball court sized course with hay bales, holes and a flag on a pole in the middle. My friends and I had a lot of ammunition left and we went for it. One by one we fell, as we got closer to the flag. We jumped bales, dodged bullets and got close but with only two of us left the end was coming. Death again to all … but my friend did something unexpected … he jumped in front of me and took all the red paint balls in the chest, head and legs. It gave me enough time to reach and grab the prize. We had WON! His sacrifice enabled me to get the prize! I looked at him with the flag in my hand as he laid on the ground covered with mud, grime and especially redness with his eyes closed and a smile on his red drenched face. He arose and wrapped his arm around me and we walked away in joyful victory.
Have a joyful Easter.
www.themoralbusiness.com
In the next game we hung together and decided that our friendship would protect us from the red splatter. We crawled through the underbrush, grubbing up our elbows and knees with dirt. We scanned the trees and woods for the enemy. We saw some movement and four of us unloaded on the bush where we saw the movement. A little bunny rabbit hopped away with a confused look on its face and little yellow paint spots all over it. We looked at each other and laughed. Then … “BAP … BAP … BAPBAP” all four of us felt the now familiar hit of a paintball on our backs. We turned to see three sets of grinning teeth surrounded by brown and green greasepaint. Another long walk to the dead man corral to sit out the rest of the game.
It seemed like everything we tried only got us killed. Nothing we could do could save us from the inevitable red spatter now completely covering us from head to toe. We tried solo and we tried together. We tried rushing in shooting all the while and we tried stealth. We tried random shooting and we tried shooting at planned targets. We tried everything with only one outcome … death.
The last game of the day was on the “short track.” A small basketball court sized course with hay bales, holes and a flag on a pole in the middle. My friends and I had a lot of ammunition left and we went for it. One by one we fell, as we got closer to the flag. We jumped bales, dodged bullets and got close but with only two of us left the end was coming. Death again to all … but my friend did something unexpected … he jumped in front of me and took all the red paint balls in the chest, head and legs. It gave me enough time to reach and grab the prize. We had WON! His sacrifice enabled me to get the prize! I looked at him with the flag in my hand as he laid on the ground covered with mud, grime and especially redness with his eyes closed and a smile on his red drenched face. He arose and wrapped his arm around me and we walked away in joyful victory.
Have a joyful Easter.
www.themoralbusiness.com
When Now becomes History
As I write this I am watching the 25 foot bronze statue of Sadam Hussein being pulled off his podium, bowing to the Iraqi people and American GI’s, and finally falling to be crushed by the jubilant people. Now has just become history.
I am starting to age myself but there were other items in my lifetime where I witness now becoming history:
- In the 2000’s the 9/11 attack and Afghanistan response
- In the 1990’s computer geeks becoming billionaires only to lose it just as quickly
- In the 1990’s Gulf war Iraqi’s surrendering to the press trying to take pictures of them
- In the 1980’s the Berlin wall falling and the fall of the USSR
- In the 1980’s Reagan being shot
- In the 1970’s the Watergate scandal
- In the 1970’s the Vietnam war ending
- In the 1960’s the assassinations of John Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King
- In the 1960’s the Antiwar protests, the Discrimination protests, the Gender Protests
- In the 1960’s the first walk on the moon
And much more that my grandchildren will be reading about and having tests on in History class. When now becomes history.
My wife signifies events in her life with rocks. We have rocks from the Dominican Republic and Jamaica where we did service projects. We have rocks from our previous homes, we have rocks from youth group camping trips and retreats, and we have rocks with people’s names written on them from other events. Others use pictures … my wife uses rocks. In Christian, Jewish and Muslim traditions rocks of remembrance play a significant role. When the Jews crossed the Jordan River they piled up rocks to remember the event on the shore so that whenever their grandchildren asked why these rocks were there they could share the history. The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem is of religious importance to Muslims all around the world as a place of remembrance.
As we sit back in our comfortable chairs with our remote controls switching the channels on history I wonder if it’s time to set up a rock of remembrance. Let me encourage you right now to sit down with your grandparents, parents, or kids with a photo album and work on the now with your family BEFORE it becomes history.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I am starting to age myself but there were other items in my lifetime where I witness now becoming history:
- In the 2000’s the 9/11 attack and Afghanistan response
- In the 1990’s computer geeks becoming billionaires only to lose it just as quickly
- In the 1990’s Gulf war Iraqi’s surrendering to the press trying to take pictures of them
- In the 1980’s the Berlin wall falling and the fall of the USSR
- In the 1980’s Reagan being shot
- In the 1970’s the Watergate scandal
- In the 1970’s the Vietnam war ending
- In the 1960’s the assassinations of John Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King
- In the 1960’s the Antiwar protests, the Discrimination protests, the Gender Protests
- In the 1960’s the first walk on the moon
And much more that my grandchildren will be reading about and having tests on in History class. When now becomes history.
My wife signifies events in her life with rocks. We have rocks from the Dominican Republic and Jamaica where we did service projects. We have rocks from our previous homes, we have rocks from youth group camping trips and retreats, and we have rocks with people’s names written on them from other events. Others use pictures … my wife uses rocks. In Christian, Jewish and Muslim traditions rocks of remembrance play a significant role. When the Jews crossed the Jordan River they piled up rocks to remember the event on the shore so that whenever their grandchildren asked why these rocks were there they could share the history. The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem is of religious importance to Muslims all around the world as a place of remembrance.
As we sit back in our comfortable chairs with our remote controls switching the channels on history I wonder if it’s time to set up a rock of remembrance. Let me encourage you right now to sit down with your grandparents, parents, or kids with a photo album and work on the now with your family BEFORE it becomes history.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Where Did all the Time Go?
I remember picking up a relative from the airport. He was an older gentleman who came from the Netherlands to visit his Dutch relatives in the States. As we approached our farmhouse in Indiana he made a remark in Dutch to my father as he pointed to the rows of ripe corn on the fields at the side of the road. My father smiled and replied back to him. Later I found out the man was wondering why we were letting the crops ripen that late in the fields. You see, he came from a time when you went out and harvested with a scythe and piled the shocks together for hand shucking later. A time and manpower intensive process for so much corn, you had to start early and work very late during harvest time. My father smiled as he showed the elderly uncle the “modern” combine which did all that work for us at one hundredth of the time and labor.
Cooking over the fire is replaced by fire stoves, which are replaced by gas, and electric stoves, which are replaced by microwaves, which are now replaced by self-heating meals, replace cooking over the fire. Counting fingers and toes is replaced by an abacus which is replaced by an adding machine which is replaced by a calculator which is replaced by a room computer which is replaced by a desktop computer which is replaced by a portable computer which is replaced by a laptop which is replaced by a palm computer which will be replaced by a watch computer. And so it goes… All of these new inventions save us labor and time.
But where is that extra time? I don’t know about you but I don’t seem to have any more of it available. I’ll tell you where it is … it has been lost in something called the Parkinson’s Principle. The Parkinson’s Principle states, “Any job expands to the time allotted to it.” This Principle is why we always waited to do a month long homework assignment until the night before. The time we save we immediately fill. We save more time and then fill it with something else – it is our nature and it is good and bad. Good because our nature drives us to work and achieve and create. Bad because our nature becomes selfish and money centered with the obvious issues that come from that.
So the question is NOT “Where did all the time go?” but it is: “What did I do with my time?” Take a look at your week and compare the amount of time you spend making money and position to the amount of time you spend making family and friends. Put the Parkinson’s Principle to work for you and expand the amount of time you spend with your loved ones this week.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Cooking over the fire is replaced by fire stoves, which are replaced by gas, and electric stoves, which are replaced by microwaves, which are now replaced by self-heating meals, replace cooking over the fire. Counting fingers and toes is replaced by an abacus which is replaced by an adding machine which is replaced by a calculator which is replaced by a room computer which is replaced by a desktop computer which is replaced by a portable computer which is replaced by a laptop which is replaced by a palm computer which will be replaced by a watch computer. And so it goes… All of these new inventions save us labor and time.
But where is that extra time? I don’t know about you but I don’t seem to have any more of it available. I’ll tell you where it is … it has been lost in something called the Parkinson’s Principle. The Parkinson’s Principle states, “Any job expands to the time allotted to it.” This Principle is why we always waited to do a month long homework assignment until the night before. The time we save we immediately fill. We save more time and then fill it with something else – it is our nature and it is good and bad. Good because our nature drives us to work and achieve and create. Bad because our nature becomes selfish and money centered with the obvious issues that come from that.
So the question is NOT “Where did all the time go?” but it is: “What did I do with my time?” Take a look at your week and compare the amount of time you spend making money and position to the amount of time you spend making family and friends. Put the Parkinson’s Principle to work for you and expand the amount of time you spend with your loved ones this week.
www.themoralbusiness.com
HE-MAN Charge!
We tried; we honestly tried to keep our kids from guns and weapons when they were small. We didn’t give them the guns and holsters I had growing up, or the army GI Joe’s, etc. But what happened? We would look out the window and see our kids using sticks as guns and swords. A piece of wood became a weapon. Then there is the neighbors kids … who get a new HE-MAN sword for their birthday and the first thing they do with it is run to our house, yell “HE-MAN charge!” and whack my child over the head with it.
For my Master’s thesis, I did a survey where I asked this question:
Do you believe mankind is:
A] born good, is good, and will always be good
B] born good, corrupted by a bad world, needs to work to be good
C] born bad, is bad, needs outside help to be good
D] born bad, is bad, will always be bad
How would you answer that question? If you are like 80% of my 420 people surveyed, both Christian and non-Christian, you will have answered B. And, along with the 80%, you would have been wrong… Ouch, did I really say that out loud? 80% of the people I surveyed were wrong? Wow? That’s kind of gutsy because the answer is C, we NEED help to be good.
We have a nostalgic and naïve way of looking at ourselves. It is as if we look at ourselves in the mirror and squint so that we don’t see all the blemishes and imperfections. The fact is we are bad people; we have been born with a tendency to become even “badder.”
You don’t believe me? Then you must not have raised children. We lovingly gloss over their tendency to throw their food on the ground, to scream while shopping, and around others. Their first word tends to be “NO!” with emphasis. Now I can hear you arguing that their fits are a response to the way we raised them, they hit because we hit, they yell because we yell and so forth. To that I answer that I say “open your eyes!” We have had 30 years of this kind of garbage and yet few people have drawn the connection between this kind of thinking and what happened at Columbine and every high school in America.
Love without discipline leads to license, NOT to more love. Time to pull out the biblical values on raising children and to dust off that old copy of Lord of the Flies by Golding that is no longer even in most High School libraries.
www.themoralbusiness.com
For my Master’s thesis, I did a survey where I asked this question:
Do you believe mankind is:
A] born good, is good, and will always be good
B] born good, corrupted by a bad world, needs to work to be good
C] born bad, is bad, needs outside help to be good
D] born bad, is bad, will always be bad
How would you answer that question? If you are like 80% of my 420 people surveyed, both Christian and non-Christian, you will have answered B. And, along with the 80%, you would have been wrong… Ouch, did I really say that out loud? 80% of the people I surveyed were wrong? Wow? That’s kind of gutsy because the answer is C, we NEED help to be good.
We have a nostalgic and naïve way of looking at ourselves. It is as if we look at ourselves in the mirror and squint so that we don’t see all the blemishes and imperfections. The fact is we are bad people; we have been born with a tendency to become even “badder.”
You don’t believe me? Then you must not have raised children. We lovingly gloss over their tendency to throw their food on the ground, to scream while shopping, and around others. Their first word tends to be “NO!” with emphasis. Now I can hear you arguing that their fits are a response to the way we raised them, they hit because we hit, they yell because we yell and so forth. To that I answer that I say “open your eyes!” We have had 30 years of this kind of garbage and yet few people have drawn the connection between this kind of thinking and what happened at Columbine and every high school in America.
Love without discipline leads to license, NOT to more love. Time to pull out the biblical values on raising children and to dust off that old copy of Lord of the Flies by Golding that is no longer even in most High School libraries.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Monday, April 10, 2006
My Father’s Hands
I was ready to indulge in one of my favorite snacks this week: apples and peanut butter; when cutting the apple into wedges I pulled the knife through the meat of the apple and into the meat of my thumb. Before I could even grimace my hand was red and the blood was running down my arm. I had forgotten my snack with thoughts of self-preservation and wrapped a Band-Aid so tight the tip of my thumb turned purple.
As it healed and I was able to assess the damage and realized that I now would have a very distinctive thumbprint with my new hooking scar. I also noticed all the other scars on my hands. I have one on my forefinger’s knuckle that I got while a dockworker when I moved a pallet and found it had raked of a large chunk of my hand while setting it down. This was at the beginning of the whole “blood-bourn pathogen” scare and training in companies. I had a bunch of safety white suits appear and surround me and take me to the company nurse who was also covered completely in white. The white-suited figures then went to attack the drips of blood on the floor and pallet, which attacked me. 10 stitches later I was back at work and the white ghosts went back to their hidden places. I also have a thumb nail that is thick and filled with ridges as I had it tore off a few times and slammed in car door twice. My wedding ring finger has a scar right around my ring from my first wedding ring that was ripped off my finger while working. It was a good thing we could not afford expensive wedding rings when we were first married because I would have lost my finger. Other minor scars and scrapes litter my hands along with assorted freckles, moles and wrinkles. After this self-inspection I was shocked to realize … I have my father’s hands!
I remember looking in awe at my father’s hands. They were strong, tanned and spotted with freckles and patches of black hair. He never had graceful thin fingers but was blessed with thick hands and fingers with which he caused fear in his children from spanking. His hands were scared and shaped by years and years of work, providing for his family as well as caressing his wife (after all, they had 8 kids). I look at my think fingers, hairy knuckles, scars and freckles and think of my father. At the end of my life … what will my hands say about me.
What do your hands say about you? Will your hands be known for their skill in your job? Will your hands be known for the trouble they got into? Will your hands be known for disciplined children and a loving wife? What have you touched today and what kind of impact has your touch left? Take a good look at your own hands.
www.themoralbusiness.com
As it healed and I was able to assess the damage and realized that I now would have a very distinctive thumbprint with my new hooking scar. I also noticed all the other scars on my hands. I have one on my forefinger’s knuckle that I got while a dockworker when I moved a pallet and found it had raked of a large chunk of my hand while setting it down. This was at the beginning of the whole “blood-bourn pathogen” scare and training in companies. I had a bunch of safety white suits appear and surround me and take me to the company nurse who was also covered completely in white. The white-suited figures then went to attack the drips of blood on the floor and pallet, which attacked me. 10 stitches later I was back at work and the white ghosts went back to their hidden places. I also have a thumb nail that is thick and filled with ridges as I had it tore off a few times and slammed in car door twice. My wedding ring finger has a scar right around my ring from my first wedding ring that was ripped off my finger while working. It was a good thing we could not afford expensive wedding rings when we were first married because I would have lost my finger. Other minor scars and scrapes litter my hands along with assorted freckles, moles and wrinkles. After this self-inspection I was shocked to realize … I have my father’s hands!
I remember looking in awe at my father’s hands. They were strong, tanned and spotted with freckles and patches of black hair. He never had graceful thin fingers but was blessed with thick hands and fingers with which he caused fear in his children from spanking. His hands were scared and shaped by years and years of work, providing for his family as well as caressing his wife (after all, they had 8 kids). I look at my think fingers, hairy knuckles, scars and freckles and think of my father. At the end of my life … what will my hands say about me.
What do your hands say about you? Will your hands be known for their skill in your job? Will your hands be known for the trouble they got into? Will your hands be known for disciplined children and a loving wife? What have you touched today and what kind of impact has your touch left? Take a good look at your own hands.
www.themoralbusiness.com
Electronic Noise
I read an article this week that told me that within 10 years we will no longer have any “land based” phone systems in place. Even computers will be satellite based for email. I am to the point where I am ready to get rid of my house phone and go completely cellular. My wife still needs the phones for her computer and can’t quite break the old reliable phone umbilical. I never answer it. The only people that call on our landline is phone marketers or people looking for my wife – neither of which impels me to answer.
I can remember when the phone at my house in Indiana had a distinctive ring so you could tell if it was for you or your neighbor. Often you would pick up the phone and discover someone a few houses down talking on it. We called it a “party line” not for the fun you could have listening to your neighbor’s conversations but for how many parties or people were on the line. Remember rotary phones? Remember crank phones? Now we only see them in museums and novelty shops but when homes were hooked up with those crank phones there was an outcry because people thought you wouldn’t go out and see your neighbor any more – you would simply call them. The fear of “disconnectedness” with each other filled the land.
We heard the same complaint when Radio and TV became popular. Then later as Color TV and better phones kept people in their homes. Nowadays we hear the Internet and cell phones disconnect people and keep them home.
I find the opposite to be true. Here is my evidence: Salespeople. Door-to-door salesmen and women would hit your house once a year – maybe. Salespeople would get to you only when you shop or when you opened a newspaper or magazine. NOW how often are you accosted by a sale? TV ads appear almost as much as the show does. Pop-up ads appear on your computer every few minutes or every time you sign on. Cell phones with web access send you messages of super discounts. Telemarketers are every other call on your phone at home and even calling cell phones to make a sale. We are becoming more and more connected as a people. A friend of mine plays cards with a person from Greece, Russia and Ohio all at the same time. Chatting with each other as they play.
Life is changing and we are changing with it. I am looking forward to seeing the people I talk to on my cell phone (within 5 years). But there is no substitute for face-to-face time. So when you sit down with your loved ones turn off the cell phones, PDA’s, beepers, laptops, TV’s and even take that old land line phone off the hook for a while. The electronic noise can be deafening and distracting when it is time to reach out and touch someone.
www.themoralbusiness.com
I can remember when the phone at my house in Indiana had a distinctive ring so you could tell if it was for you or your neighbor. Often you would pick up the phone and discover someone a few houses down talking on it. We called it a “party line” not for the fun you could have listening to your neighbor’s conversations but for how many parties or people were on the line. Remember rotary phones? Remember crank phones? Now we only see them in museums and novelty shops but when homes were hooked up with those crank phones there was an outcry because people thought you wouldn’t go out and see your neighbor any more – you would simply call them. The fear of “disconnectedness” with each other filled the land.
We heard the same complaint when Radio and TV became popular. Then later as Color TV and better phones kept people in their homes. Nowadays we hear the Internet and cell phones disconnect people and keep them home.
I find the opposite to be true. Here is my evidence: Salespeople. Door-to-door salesmen and women would hit your house once a year – maybe. Salespeople would get to you only when you shop or when you opened a newspaper or magazine. NOW how often are you accosted by a sale? TV ads appear almost as much as the show does. Pop-up ads appear on your computer every few minutes or every time you sign on. Cell phones with web access send you messages of super discounts. Telemarketers are every other call on your phone at home and even calling cell phones to make a sale. We are becoming more and more connected as a people. A friend of mine plays cards with a person from Greece, Russia and Ohio all at the same time. Chatting with each other as they play.
Life is changing and we are changing with it. I am looking forward to seeing the people I talk to on my cell phone (within 5 years). But there is no substitute for face-to-face time. So when you sit down with your loved ones turn off the cell phones, PDA’s, beepers, laptops, TV’s and even take that old land line phone off the hook for a while. The electronic noise can be deafening and distracting when it is time to reach out and touch someone.
www.themoralbusiness.com
More than Memory
Memory is an amazing and complicated thing. As we look over the possibility of another Space Shuttle tragedy I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up in the early 80’s. In fact, I have a memory of when President Kennedy was shot and killed in 1963 and I was only 3 years old. I remember coming back from a visit to my grandparents home sitting in the middle of the back seat of our car. I don’t remember hearing the news as much as I remember my parent’s reaction to the news. A little older I remember Martin Luther King being shot and Robert Kennedy but I don’t have the event etched like President Kennedy for some reason. I remember the first steps on the moon, being on my knees in front of our black and white TV hearing Armstrong’s words, “That’s one small step …” I remember President Ford being shot but I don’t have it etched like when President Reagan was shot, I know where I was and exactly what I was doing at the time. The only other two things would be the Space Shuttle and 9/11 that has been etched so deeply in my memory.
It is as if my mind has been branded. The brand has been heated in an open fire to the point where the metal is orange with black speckled imperfections. Then the unstable hand of world events coalesce at a determined time to firmly grasp the brand and presses it against the gray matter of my brain. Searing, not just the event, but also my every action and thought that surrounded that event. So I not only remember that I was watching a black and white TV at the time of the first step on the moon, but I also remember being on my knees, in shorts with a striped shirt staring at the TV which was at the time on the South wall of our living room.
Memory. I just finished a Science Fiction book on the battle of man versus smart machines. A machine would be able to remember more exactly what, when and where than our minds but it would not be able to tell how it would impact us. A machine would not be seared to its very core by an event causing all future firings of the neurons to go around the new brand. We are certainly fearfully and wonderfully made ….
www.themoralbusiness.com
It is as if my mind has been branded. The brand has been heated in an open fire to the point where the metal is orange with black speckled imperfections. Then the unstable hand of world events coalesce at a determined time to firmly grasp the brand and presses it against the gray matter of my brain. Searing, not just the event, but also my every action and thought that surrounded that event. So I not only remember that I was watching a black and white TV at the time of the first step on the moon, but I also remember being on my knees, in shorts with a striped shirt staring at the TV which was at the time on the South wall of our living room.
Memory. I just finished a Science Fiction book on the battle of man versus smart machines. A machine would be able to remember more exactly what, when and where than our minds but it would not be able to tell how it would impact us. A machine would not be seared to its very core by an event causing all future firings of the neurons to go around the new brand. We are certainly fearfully and wonderfully made ….
www.themoralbusiness.com
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