Angels in NYPD blue

Love this. An act of kindness, without expectation of recognition, and from a law enforcement officer -- someone you might expect to become cynical, dealing with the worst of us every day.

"Jennifer Foster of Florence, AZ was visiting Times Square with her husband Nov. 14 when they saw a shoeless man asking for change. She writes, “Right when I was about to approach, one of your officers came up behind him. The officer said, ‘

I have these size 12 boots for you, they are all-weather. Let’s put them on and take care of you.’ The officer squatted down on the ground and proceeded to put socks and the new boots on this man. The officer expected NOTHING in return and did not know I was watching*. I have been in law enforcement for 17 years. I was never so impressed in my life. I did not get the officer’s name. It is important, I think, for all of us to remember the real reason we are in this line of work. The reminder this officer gave to our profession in his presentation of human kindness has not been lost on myself or any of the Arizona law enforcement officials with whom this story has been shared.”
Our thanks to the Fosters for their attention and appreciation, and especially to this officer, who remains anonymous."

The HallowThankMas Marathon of Greed

Two-thirds of the way through the corporately homogenized *HalloThankMas season: a veritable blur of consumerism on steroids, appeals to greed and gadgets as the keys to happiness. 

It can be . . . maddening, depressing, frustrating and leave your soul black and blue. And if you watched TV news coverage of "Black Friday" -- and mobs lined up to scrum through the doors for a bargain on electronics, toys and whatever else will not survive the first week of January as a source of visceral joy -- you know this "happiest of seasons" can leave you physically black and blue, too.

Or bleeding, in the hospital, with a bullet in your gullet.

Still, I refuse to surrender Christmas to commercialism in my heart. And, that's where the message, and person of the season should live, thrive and be honored . . . if we do that, it should gush out of us in patience, understanding, love and generosity of spirit, action and thought. 

It should; but that, my friends, is entirely up to us.

 

 *HalloThankMas: OK, I made it up. Musing over how goblins, turkeys, elves and Santa seemed to have merged into one, months-long orgy of spending and partying, I even suggested just coming with with a suitable mascot . . . perhaps a vampire turkey in a red suit.

 

 

'Life of Pi,' no pumpkin pie . . . but still a nice Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving dinner at IHOP this year,just Barb and me. Couldn't make it work with the family this time of year -- life and work and priorities just didn't mesh to do it on "the day."
So, will be doing post-Thanksgiving Japanese food with my son and his sweet wife on Saturday. And, we're "thankful" for that.
But this Thanksgiving Day, we but shared with a happy Pacific Island family, a young Latino couple and their baby, a couple of old folks (well, older than we are). 
The turkey was moist, dressing was tasty, broccoli steamed nicely.
We also saw "The Life of Pi." WOW. My head is still spinning, and both of us had tears in our eyes. Amazing acting, seamless special effects, beautiful film work. A nice departure from the assembly-line Hollywood pablum that stretches perception, and humanity.
And, I'm talking about the regular movie format, not the 3-D. I would imagine that would be something else, just as wonderful for different reasons. 
So, of course, I now must read the novel by Yann Martel from which the movie drew it's inspiration. It's a commitment I made to myself as a young man, beginning with seeing "Little Big Man." 
And yes, as great as that movie was, the book by Thomas Berger was better. Same with John Irving's "World According to Garp," and while the "Lord of the Rings" movies were wonderful (and I look forward to seeing "The Hobbit" soon), I'm sorry, J.R.R. Tolkien's writing, genius and story-telling stand alone as art.

Challenges, yes. Still, the best Thanksgiving, ever.

A tough year. And, the best Thanksgiving, ever.
Seems unlikely, looking at 2012 in cynical perspective. The near-miss with what would've been a massive, instantly deadly cardiac event. Open-heart surgery to replace the failed aortic valve, and a long (still ongoing) recovery.
Having to face the darkness and drawn-out grief of Alzheimer's, and the need to move my folks into assisted living.
The hard decision, made inevitable by Washington residency requirements for guardianship, to see my big (older)-little (mentally disabled by cerebral palsy) sister become a ward of the state.
Callie, my best furry friend, claimed by cancer long before her time.
But, perspective is the key. Always has been.
And when I look at the blessings, instead of the challenges, this has been a great year:
I'm alive, and getting stronger and healthier all the time, the Grim Reaper fended off indefinitely.
My folks, having adjusted to their move, now seem happy and are safe and provided for, even as their bodies and minds leave this existence and are resurrected in the broader, eternal realm of Love that comes next.
My sister is in a group home where the staff cares, and is happy with her life and sheltered workshop duties.
Callie -- I was able to say goodbye to my sweet-natured border collie, holding her head in my hands and speaking words of love as the light faded from her trusting eyes.
And then there's my daughter, Brenda, finding love, a new husband and a little daughter . . . giving Barb and me a wonderful son-in-law, and a sweet granddaughter to bless our family . . . already blessed by a wonderful daughter-in-law and grandson.
So, yes. This is the best Thanksgiving, ever.

My hair: Lost in translation. Literally.

If you live in a multi-cultural neighborhood, it is really a good idea to pick up at least an effective smattering of the lingua franca...  in this case, Spanish. And you really should know when that sweet-faced young Latina smiles and says "Short, Si?" While pointing at what turns out to be the No. 1 setting on her clippers...  holding up your index finger and thumb one and a half inch apart means nothing, if you also gallantly answer, "Er, Si! Porforvor. "
After the initial buzzzzz, all is lost. Really. You just opted for a "high-and-tight" haircut, mi amigo.
And chagrined, as well as decidedly chilly from the ears up, you still pay the $10, and dutifully add a nice tip.
Those brown eyes, raven hair and the trilling "Gracias," make you forget your hairless plunge... until you see yourself in the glass exit door's reflection.
Then just croak, "Ohhhh, Lord!" And pull down your cap and slink home.
Hair grows back. Right?
RIGHT?!?

Guess what? Unemployment would've gone up this week regardless who won the White House.
Republican Mitt Romney was not the secular messiah, and Obama never has been.
Storms, earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts, famines, corporate greed/ethical failure happen, and one man, one party, one nation have very little to do with stopping any of them.
Certainly, it is easier -- and provides such a convenient outlet for our frustration, anger and, dare I say it, self-righteousness -- to regurgitate the myth of a President, a Congress, or the marketplace somehow comprising the be-all and end-all of our well-being.
But they are detours from a complex reality; they are the proverbial, and rhetorical "Straw Man," a diversion of willful, if desperate, self-delusion.
We can only control how we REACT, and when we do that together, with a unified purpose that transcends mere politics, and by calling upon the common ground of our faiths, then we have a chance.

A 'Come to Jesus' moment, and the Twelve Steps

You've heard of those "Come to Jesus" moments.
Well, Wednesday night, I had one as close to literal as they come, I suspect.
Our usual church Bible study session gave way to a panel of four folks from Alcoholics Anonymous who held forth on the Twelve Steps.
Each person took three of them, and shared their own stories.
They talked about loss, pain, self-hatred and how that played out in addiction, and victimization -- of themselves by others, and of others by them.
I watched their eyes as they struggled to share what were, even years later, painful, raw and ragged wounds of the soul.
And, I felt awful. Awful for how I have -- albeit mostly in silence and within my own thoughts -- too often dismissed such people as losers, parasites and subhuman, unworthy of sharing the same space, time and air as the rest of us.
Right there, as one woman spoke about her struggle with crystal meth and multiple suicide attempts, I asked my God for forgiveness -- and the gift to see others with some trace of His compassionate grace.
God is Love, I've come to believe, and God is Love beyond our understanding, and in dimensions of compassion we cannot begin to fathom.
That's why his Son told us not judge, to leave that to the only One who is qualified to weigh the human heart.

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss

So, the election is over.
Thank God. And I mean that, in every conceivable sense of the word.
Think about it. A liberal, Democrat in the White House with a failed first term in so many respects -- and much of that failure due to a Republican House and a Senate where "blue dog" Democrats often defected to negate their party's narrow majority.
But also, much of that failure was due to the inexperience and lack of leadership from a man, however eloquent, whose previous national governmental service consisted of one, incomplete Senate term.
That he would win a second term, after four years of economic recession and high unemployment, indeed seems the essence of an "Audacity of Hope," as one of his books was titled.
Few gave Barack Obama a chance for re-election. If only the Republicans could come up with someone passably acceptable . . .
Instead, the GOP primaries proved to be a parade of clowns. Much of that nomination campaign consisted of a shifting anyone-but-Romney string of failed alliances. We had a cowboy clown from Texas who shot himself in his political foot, repeatedly, with his lack of understanding and fatal malaise. A fast food king who sounded good, but faded under scrutiny or anything deep in inquiry, a bigoted idiotessa who made Sarah Palin look like a Rhodes Scholar.
And, that Mormon guy who ran the 2002 Winter Games.
Try as he might -- and he certainly did, flip-flopping on social, cultural and economic issues in a naked, ultimately failed bid to win the Right -- Mitt Romney just never quite convinced Republicans, some of whom just months ago were lamenting the triggering of the Apocalypse should a Mormon win the White House.
I became a bored observer myself, once moderate Jon Huntsman -- also a Mormon, by the way -- failed to excite support with his thoughtful, common sense approach to the issues. His half-hearted endorsement of Mitt later on mirrored the lack of enthusiasm Romney would gather.
And so, here we are. And the heck of it is that probably little will change in the next four years.
If, considering the Dems held BOTH House and Senate, along with the White House for the first two years of Obama's first term and still did nothing beyond a watered-down health care program thanks to the self-serving antics of Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi . . . then how can we expect anything better with Washington doomed to partisan bickering for another two years at least?
Faith, my friends, should not be placed in the soaring oratory of our likeable, but ineffective President, nor any politician or party.
Faith is the realm of God. And we had better be praying for our nation, now more than ever.