A Muncie Boyhood-Life at Roosevelt Elementary

Miss Hoffman-Fourth Grade

Mrs. Dennis-Fifth Grade

Crazy Things I Remember from Roosevelt Elementary School

No particular order…

1.  Making “Macaroni” Art—My mom had it hanging in her dining room until I was an adult.
2. Taking naps in Kindergarten on a rug that was purchased just for that very purpose.
3. For some reason I associate Johnny Cash’s song “I Walk the Line” with my second grade class.
4. I broke my right collarbone a few days before school started in third grade, and had to learn to write left-handed for the first two months.
5. Lee Burton, a special needs kid in our third grade class sharpened his finger in the pencil sharpener.
6. I got into a wrestling match with a neighbor boy on the way home from school.  It was just across from the school.  We were so into the match that we didn’t realize that a crowd had gathered to “watch the fight.”  When I realized what was happening, I was afraid a teacher was going to come get us, so I pushed him down and took off toward home.  He caught up with me about two blocks later, and all of the sudden the friendly wrestling match was less friendly.  So, I pushed him down again and went home.
7. I got a “whack” for fighting in the boy’s restroom…but, I wasn’t.  An early lesson that life isn’t fair.
8. I remember planting seeds on pads of cotton in Mrs. Dennis’ class.
9. Once I tripped at the top of the back stairs.  The ones that went down from in front of the 5^th/6^th grade wing toward the gym.  I tripped at the top, did a mid-air somersault, and landed on my butt on the bottom step.

10. 

    Mr. Burkholder-Sixth Grade

    I remember wanting to be on the Safety Patrol.  I only got to be a sub, and occasionally was the crossing flag holder at Madison Street.  But, I wanted one of those badges!
11. I remember singing: “School’s out, school’s out.  Teachers let the monkeys out” on the last day of school…every single year!
12. I remember getting love notes from Holly Bell in second grade.  On the outside, I hated it…but, on the inside, I loved it!
13. I remember a Christmas ornament that my third grade teacher, Mrs. Denny gave me.  It stayed in my family’s ornament collection until my mother’s decorations were dispersed after her death just a few years ago.  It was lost then, and it really bugs me now.
14. I remember the big windows that we’d open in the early fall and late spring, and the big boiler radiators that would keep us warm in the winter.
15. I noticed girls in fifth grade.  In particular, I developed a huge crush on my best friend’s sister, Tena.  That lasted until high school, but was my deepest held secret.

16. 

    Mrs. Cox-Music

    I got glasses in fourth grade, and all of the sudden Miss Hoffman’s instructions on the board made a lot more sense.
17. I remember the kids calling the principal “Coble Wobble.”  It wasn’t nice, but everyone did it…especially around Thanksgiving.
18. I remember kids smoking cigarettes as early as fourth or fifth grade.
19. I remember making paper mache’ pinatas in sixth grade.
20. I remember reciting the Pledge of Allegiance every morning.
21. I remember collecting dimes for the March of Dimes.
22. I remember tornado drills and fire drills, but I also seem to have a faint memory of bomb drills.
23. I remember playing with a parachute in gym class.
24. I remember playing basketball during recess on the playground.  I was terrible at it.
25. I remember learning to square dance and some other dances.  I don’t remember why.  And, I no longer remember how to do them.  I wasn’t much good at that either.
26. I remember singing Christmas songs in school.  Silent Night, Holy Night.
27. I remember walking to Wilson Middle School for a tour of my sixth grade year.
28. I remember a little girl in our fourth grade class lost her parents to a traffic accident.  She moved away and I never saw her again.
29. I remember the front lawn was like a park with the huge old trees.

30. 

    Mrs. Siler-First Grade

    I remember hearing the older kids talk about the riots at Southside High…and being afraid because I knew I’d be going t
    here someday.
31. I remember getting a physical in the library.  “Turn toward the window and cough.”
32. In sixth grade, for about two weeks, we had daily giant rumbles out in the field during recess.  Nearly all of the kids were involved.  It was like a huge wrestling match.  Bodies flying.  Kids flipping.  Pushing.  Shoving.  Swinging.  For the most part, it was all good fun, but the teachers had to put a stop to it.  Too many torn clothes and minor injuries.
33. Playing “Duck, Duck, Goose.”  Loved that game.  (I wonder if I could get a game up?)
34. And, the last random memory I’ll share is that I remember making a finger-paint picture in Miss Hoffman’s fourth grade class that got entered into some city-wide contest.

Mr. Bushey-Principal

In general, I have fond memories of my days at Roosevelt Elementary School, and it is kind of cool that I am still in contact with some of the kids…and even some of the teachers from my days there.  It is a shame that the old building is gone.  It would be fun to go back and get a new look at it.  To walk in the front doors and go up the first steps to the main level.  To trudge on up to the second floor.  Wander down the hall to those back steps.  There, I could stop and imagine my lucky flying flip.  Afterward, go back down to the gym and remember the line to get my “Hot Packs and Cold Packs” for lunch…”Fish on Fridays.”

I find that I’m a little nostalgic about Roosevelt Elementary School.  That feeling stops after I moved on from Roosevelt, but it remains in her hallowed halls of yesteryear.  Great teachers.  Great friends.  A few bullies, and a few mean girls, but overall, they were good years.

Me...in all my goofiness with my niece, Krista

What memories do you have?  If you don’t mind, leave a comment and share something with me.

A Muncie Boyhood-Star Trek & Middle School

Me, just before heading out to the 8th grade dance.

I’ve been following William Shatner on Twitter for a while now, and he is one of those very active “tweeters.”  When he gets on a roll, he just goes and goes and goes.  But, that's cool though, because he’s funny, and it’s fun to read.  Well, I was scrolling through his latest tweet-fest, and it got me thinking about the days when I first became familiar with him.

Middle School.

The fall of 1974 through the spring of 1976.  Star Trek was in syndication, and it was before it became huge with the series of sequels and a big screen phenomenon.  At the time, it was just an old show from the 60’s that was running on an off-time in reruns.  I even remember that when it came on after the evening news, the local Indianapolis station’s news crew would “beam” out as the transition to the show.  And, I fell in love with that quirky, ahead of its time, eclectic show of galactic voyagers…and their “5-year mission to explore new worlds and new civilizations.”

William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and the crew of the Starship Enterprise got me through the Tribblelation that was my middle school years.

I have to admit, those were a tough couple of years at Wilson Middle School.  Bullies, racial tensions, pimples, puberty, weird haircuts, sports failures, and fat.  Let’s just say that I never had a problem calculating the value of Pi….um, I mean pie.  I had always been a little chubby, but by the end of 8^th grade I looked like a giant kickball with feet.

In the midst of those weird, awkward years, my buddy Jerry introduced me to Captain Kirk and crew.  I hadn’t watched it when it was on its original run.  I’d been more into Lassie and Gentle Ben in those days.  But by 1974, I was ready to battle Klingons and Romulans.  It made for a great way to get my mind off of those…those…um…those real things that were so…well,  so hard.

Despite the mess that was my real life, with Jerry’s help, I fell in love with Star Trek.  We role-played.  We made fake phasers and communicators…maybe even a tricorder.  He was Spock…I was a super chubby Kirk.  (Sorry Bill.)  We made up story-lines and battled imaginary aliens.  And, I survived Middle School.

Then, an amazing thing happened in the three months between middle school and my entry into my freshman year at Muncie Southside High School.  It had been an active summer.  Lots of outdoor stuff.  I lost some of my winter chub, and I grew a couple of inches.  Suddenly, I wasn’t a walking watermelon anymore.  I had actually slimmed down.  So much so that one of my friends saw me on the first day of school, and they couldn’t believe it:  “Wow, Mike!  I almost didn’t recognize you!”

Of course, I was oblivious to the change.  I’d been too busy fighting Klingons.  

So, here’s a big thank you to Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, Sulu, Uhura, and even Yeoman Rand.  You guys were real heroes back in the day, to at least one chubby little guy from Muncie, Indiana.  Have a glass of Romulan Ale on me!

Rollercoasters and False Bravado

Folks, it has been a rollercoaster over the last three weeks.  An emotional rollercoaster.

I sent one daughter 14 hours into the future—to Australia.  Who knows when I’ll see her again?  I sent another just 1 hour ahead—to Arkansas.  It will be a good couple of months before I again see her smiling face. 

I witnessed a friend’s son…and a man I know…go from obscurity to being one of the most famous faces on the planet…all the while he was fighting for his life against one of the most deadly diseases on Earth.  While on that voyage into the spotlight, while battling to survive, he also managed to inspire a whole new generation of Christians, and touch the lives of believers and non-believers alike.  He went from death’s door, to stepping out of an ambulance, to being released…and he wasn’t supposed to survive.  All the while trusting God…regardless the outcome.

I watched the streets of Ferguson, Missouri erupt…and the tears of loss cascade down the cheeks of a mother’s face.  While a whole segment of our American community mourns, another whole segment continues to not understand.  And, our national pain continues.  We don’t really know the facts, but one side claims a cold-blooded murder and the other claims a “thug” was killed in the line of duty.  Lots of accusations.  Lots of assumptions.  Lots of arguing, shouting, crying voices.  Bottles flying.  Tear gas pluming. 

Very little listening.

Meanwhile, a friend from middle school sent me a message to ask me to sign a petition and post it to my Facebook wall in support of reparations for the descendants of enslaved black Americans.  (Notice that I didn’t say a “black friend.”  I don’t have black friends or white friends.  I just have friends.  Some happen to be of different races, but that is not what defines them to me.)  I asked him to give me more detail on what he was talking about.  I asked him some hard questions:  Would it really change things?  Would it change hearts on both sides?  How would it be applied or distributed, etc.?  Could it really be enough in the end to not become an insult?  I’m still mulling over his ideas.  Frankly, I like some of them…maybe a good many of them.  But, what sits on me the most is the pain in his words.  In some ways, he is the same Marvin I met in 7^th grade all those many years ago, but in other ways he’s not.  There’s a heaviness there…brought on by the weight of social injustice; a wall of emotion born of 50+ years of witnessing and experiencing disrespect and mistreatment for no other reason than the color of the pigment in his skin and the skin of his family, neighbors, and friends.

Then, there are the deaths.

And, not just normal deaths.  Suicides.   They have touched me three times this year.  One close to a niece.  One a former customer/co-worker.  And, one a celebrity…Robin Williams.  (And, isn’t unusual how we all seem to feel like Robin was a friend?  Almost none of us had actually ever met him, but I bet most of us felt like he was someone we held dear; like a family member or close friend.)

In thinking about those deaths, I began to think back, and suicide has visited me many times over the years.  I had not realized just how often:  My brother, Freddie; A boy in one of my High School classes; Danny-another boy from school; Larry-a friend from my Bible College days; two different neighbors (one just last year); my niece’s fiancé; and Doug, the guy I’d worked with.  That is eight people, and there may be more that I just haven’t considered yet.  That realization was staggering.

Finally, there is the murder of James Foley.  I can’t really express how that makes me feel.

All of that, and I’ve been blessed with an overactive empathy gene.

I sensed the hopefulness, faithfulness, and fear mixed all together in the voices and faces of my friends, the Brantly family.  I sensed the same thing in the prayers and petitions of my church family as they prayed for Kent Brantly and Nancy Writebol.  I felt the hurt of that mother’s heart as the tears rolled down her cheeks in Ferguson.  I could hear the anger and pain in my friend’s words as he explained his reparations plan.  I feel the sadness of the world’s loss of Robin Williams mixed into the sadness I feel for the loss of my former work associate, Doug. (And, regarding Doug, maybe a little guilt.  Could I have done something for him to change his course?)  And, I harbor the shock…the anger…the deep sadness of that picture of James Foley on his knees with the man in black holding the knife; knowing that only a moment later…

Contrast that with the joy of seeing Kent Brantly speak at that news conference as he was released from the hospital-Ebola free!   Two weeks prior, I nearly jumped out of my skin when he walked into the hospital in Atlanta…when I was expecting to see him wheeled in on a gurney.  And, today that was furthered by the joy of seeing him reunited with his wife, and his recovery from the brink of death. 

It has been a rollercoaster summer, folks.  I’m telling you, it really has.

And, here’s the thing.  I’ve basically been holding all of this inside.  Only a little has slipped out.  A little to my wife.  A little to a fellow elder at church…just a dribble really.  Frankly, it’s mostly bottled up.

Why?

Because, in our lives these days, we don’t talk.  Not really.  We don’t know how to be REAL with one another.  We are afraid of emotion, and we hide it behind false bravado.

I could spill it all out to my wife, but what I really want is a friend.  My wife is my best friend, and I could share it all with her…in fact, I did share some of it tonight.  But, what I actually want is a really close buddy…another guy…whom I can be real with.  Someone I can share my fears, my failings, and my dreams with…and someone who will do the same with me.  Without judgment and without expectations.  Someone to commiserate with.  Someone to confess to.  Someone to pray with.  And, then someone I can go with to watch the game, eat some wings, and have a beer.

And, to all you guys out there who are still reading this…you know you want the same thing.  At least be real with yourself.

The problem is our false bravado and our spiritual lies.  We are too proud to admit we need each other.  We are too embarrassed to admit that we do things we are ashamed of.  We can’t abide the idea that our whitewashed exteriors might be removed to reveal who we really are.

And, before you girls go getting all self-righteous…you need to take off those smug, pious church smiles and replace them with sober reality, admitting that you have some messes too.  You need these kinds of relationships just as much.

We can have it, though.  These special relationships.  All it takes is two individuals willing to be totally real with one another.  Totally honest.  Willing to share the darkest details.  Two people finally willing to step into the light with one another.

Here I am.  Where are you?

1 John 1:7 – But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.

Joy, Fear, and Ebola

Earlier today, I nearly jumped out of my chair with excitement when I saw Kent Brantly gingerly step out of that ambulance and walk into Emory University Hospital.  My fist pumped into the air, and I shouted a happy “Yeah!” to my wife.  I have had my faith renewed as I have watched the events unfold this week.  Maybe I’ll let some more time go by, and then I’ll attempt to explain that renewal more fully.  But, right now, I want to touch on the opposite.  Fear.

You see, I’ve also seen today a number of social media posts from regular folks who are at a minimum nervous, and at the extreme, actually quite scared.

And, who can blame them?  Consider the popular written fiction, TV series, and theatrical movie themes that create and project far out stories about a virus gone wild:  Resident Evil, Dawn of the Dead, The Walking Dead, etc.  Then, you add to that the wacked-out conspiracy theorists and the fringe, hype-media specialists.  Frankly, people are fed meal after meal of misinformation, half-truths, and extreme fictional scenarios.

If you are one of those folks who feels this fear, let me give you a suggestion that may help.  If you will follow it, I think you find yourself breathing easier, and your mind will be at rest.

Educate yourself.

Set aside the fiction of modern TV & theater, ignore the conspiracy theorists, skip the hype of the fringe media, and take the time to research and educate yourself on both the virus and the extreme steps taken to provide safety and precaution.

The virus is scary, but it is also not all that easily transmitted, especially in our modern world, and it can be killed with sterilization processes.  The transportation methods that carried Kent to Georgia utilized multiple layers of isolation to keep the infection contained, and eliminate any chance of exposure to the outside world.  Folks, you can take a good breath and relax.

Further, there is another piece of fiction being propagated by the media:  That Ebola has never been in the western hemisphere before.

That just isn’t true.

Kent Brantly may be the first PATIENT suffering from Ebola to be treated in the US, but the virus has been here for quite some time.  Laboratories are studying it for work on new vaccines.  Some time ago, the virus was acquired in Africa, and then transported to the United States using carefully controlled methods in order to do the research.  Here’s a link to a news story from the Houston, Texas news outlet KHOU about just such a lab: Galveston UTMB Lab Ebola Story

So, today, Kent himself was transported home using extremely careful and thought out methods, taking incredible steps to ensure everyone’s safety.  The virus is transmitted through contact with body fluids…not by air, and all conceivable precautions were taken to ensure that nothing could escape.

You may ask: Mike, how do you know all of this?  Well, simply put…I took the time to read legitimate articles, and I listened to legitimate interviews with real doctors and scientists.  Otherwise, left to the entertainment and fringe media meals, I’d be just as nervous as the next guy.

Friends, you are perfectly safe…from Ebola anyway.  And, Kent is HOME.  Where he should be…at least until he recovers enough to resume his selfless work in caring for others.  God willing.  And, let’s continue to pray that he does recover, because the world needs more people like Kent Brantly.

Keep praying.

Peace to all. 

#PrayForKent #PrayForNancy

666,216

666,216

666,216 is the average number of hours that a man in the United States can expect to live.

I’m approximately 52.5 years old.  That means I’ve used up 460,212 of mine…should I only be average.  Which begs the question: How do I want to use the last 206,004 hours of my

life?

Of course, I hope to be above average.  My personal goal is to live to be 100 years and one day old.  But, you just can’t count on ‘beating the house.’  In fact, there are a good number of people who fall short of the average.  So, let’s just say I’ll be average.  How do I want to spend those hours?

Maybe playing Candy Crush?  Nope!

Maybe watching TV?  Not anymore.

 

I don’t watch TV nearly as much as I used to, but let’s examine that one.  For conjecture sake…because I’ll never figure this out exactly…let’s say that I’ve watched two hours a day for the last 50 years.  Some days/years were much higher than others.  That’s an estimate, and it may be low because I used to watch A LOT of TV.  But, okay…two hours a day for 50 years is 36,525 hours.  Hmmm.  I’ve wasted 1522 days sitting in front of the television.  That’s over four years sitting in front of an electronic brain-sucker.

That’s kind of staggering, if you think about it.  And, my guess is most of us don’t.

Sit on a sofa...or, go see this?

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not opposed to relaxation or entertainment, and I’m not likely to give up TV altogether.  (I need my Walking Dead fixes.)  But, I can tell you, as a guy who has likely crossed the halfway point, I want to be a lot more mindful of how I use up those remaining hours.  I will no longer be donating them to mindlessness.

Frankly, I want to do something worthwhile with them.

I want to create.  I want to see beautiful and interesting places.  I want to worship with zeal.  I want to love deeper.  I want to make a difference in people’s lives.

I am challenged and inspired by the way that my fellow Christian and friend, Dr. Kent Brantly has devoted his life to serving others.  He could be living a fairly cush life here in the U.S. as a physician.  Nice house.  Nice car.  Maybe a club membership.  Instead, he has been donating himself to a cause where the only reward is the satisfaction of seeing people survive.  Since last fall, he has been working with Samaritan’s Purse at ELWA Hospital in Liberia, West Africa, sharing hope and providing medical care to people most of the world ignores.  And, further, now that he has been stricken with one of the most deadly diseases known to man—Ebola, he still remains committed to his course.  No regrets.  No second-guessing.  He is “praying fervently” for God to save his life, but either way, he has put himself in the Father’s hands.  He is faithful regardless the outcome.

Whether he will meet or exceed the average life-span of the US male is very hard to say right now.  The next week will tell.  But, I can tell you, he has already made more of a difference than most of us ever will.

So, I’m going to make some commitments right now.  I had already put Candy Crush in a coma in my world.  (Whoever created that game should be…well, I won’t say…it wouldn’t be nice.)  I am now declaring it ‘dead to me.’  I’d put Words with Friends on hiatus.  That hiatus is now permanent.  TV has been skimmed way down, and will stay that way.

I am going to look forward to my next 206,002 hours with much more intensity.  I will use them with a great deal more intentionality.  (I just gave a couple of them to you.)  And, I will renew my dedication to serving my God.

Now, a question for you…how are you going to use the hours you have left?

#PrayForKent

#PrayForNancy

Ebola and the Power of Humility

My friend, Jim Brantly stood in front of our church this morning and apologized.  Being privy to the incredible family crisis he was (and still is) facing, I was taken aback.  What could he possibly be apologizing for on this morning of all mornings?  Then, I learned, as I so often do with Jim, that his heart was touched in a way…as it often is…that puts me to shame.

You see, the crisis in his family is the critical and life-threatening illness contracted by his son, Kent Brantly, which has been all over the newsfeeds and even the major news media outlets over the last couple of days.  His son, Kent Brantly, who is also someone I consider a friend, has been working for nearly a year with a hospital in Liberia in West Africa.  He is a doctor, and for the last several months, his focus has been on the battle to stop the spread of Ebola.  And, Ebola is deadly.  From the reports I’ve seen, it kills anywhere from 60% to 90% of those who are stricken.  Hundreds have died in the last few months, and some of the most at risk are the healthcare workers providing care.  In just the last few days, the family learned that Kent had contracted the disease.  He was (is) sick, in isolation, and alone (at least from his family) on another continent thousands of miles away.  Out of the reach of their loving arms, and beyond anything they could do for him short of prayer. 

Can you imagine?

So, for the last few days, Jim (and his family) have been praying…likely like they have never prayed before…for Kent’s recovery.  Pleading.  Begging.  Beseeching.  Calling with all of their energy, emotion, and faith on the God they have so long served; asking Him to come to their son’s side and return him to health.

And, in the middle of all of that emotional, mental, and spiritual turmoil, Jim came to realize something.  Something that he shared with all of us as he stood in front of the church just this morning.  Something that…again to my own shame…I would never have considered if the tables were turned and I was walking in his shoes.  Something incredibly selfless.

He realized that he had not been praying for others with that same sense of urgency and fervency.  And, his heart ached. 

So, at this time when he desperately wants his son to be healed and brought to full recovery, instead of pleading with the congregation to pray for his son, he apologized to the church for his own lack of prayer.  And, you could almost see the hearts of everyone in the room going out to him…trying to wrap themselves around him and his family.  It was moving.  It was powerful.  It was REAL.  It was what I think God intended.  The facades came down.  It was the church being real.  Really being the church of Christ.

And, of course, we all prayed fervently for Kent. 

Once again, I was humbled and amazed by Jim’s simple, heartfelt humility.

That is the kind of family that Kent Brantly comes from.  And, that is where he gets his faith and compassion.

Pray for Kent Brantly.  Pray for his healing.  Pray for his work.

Pray for my friend Jim.  Pray for his strength.  Pray for his faith in this time of testing.  Pray for his whole family.

And, pray for us.  All of us.  Pray that we can learn to reflect that same humility, selflessness, and faithfulness.  Pray that we…wherever we may be…will really be the church as God intended it.

54 Days to Go

54 Days to Go

I just pulled out my calendar and counted them.  I have 54 days to get into “Yellowstone” shape.

Like so many other people, keeping fit is an ongoing battle with many competing forces trying on the one hand to help me, and on the other hand to trip me up.  Mostly the latter.  Frankly, my occupation is not helpful.  As a sales guy, I spend way too much time either riding in my car or riding on my office chair.  To top that off, I spend too much time in front of the TV….riding on my recliner.  And, to top it all off, I have a major affection for ice cream.

You could put anchovies on ice cream and I’d probably eat it.  (Well, I’d probably pick the slimy little guys off, and still eat the ice cream.)

So, as a result of those influences, I fluctuate between striving to be fit and striving to have a stroke.  Between you and me, I’d prefer to be fit, but sometimes I forget that fact when a big bowl of Blue Bell with chocolate syrup is calling my name.

But, I now have a goal and a deadline.

My goal:  Be able to successfully hike into the backcountry of Yellowstone…and enjoy it.

My deadline:  Mid-June

54 days from now to be exact.

So, between now and then, I’m committing to a few changes:

1.        Daily exercise.  In increasing doses and intensities.  Likely, I will start out with walking, biking, and maybe shooting some baskets in the driveway.  However, when caught in a rainstorm on a walk back to my hotel last week, I discovered that I could maybe try some running too.  Regardless, I need to do it EVERY day, and I need to build the intensity as June approaches.

2.       Cutting the Carbs.  I don’t do zero carbs, but I do cut them big time.  No more french fries until vacation.  No more dinner rolls.  No more mashed potatoes.  No cereal.  No bagels.  No bread.  I am going to allow myself tortilla chips and rice once a week from my favorite Mexican restaurant (El Rodeo), but otherwise, I’m tightening the noose on unneeded complex carbohydrates.

3.       No Ice Cream until Vacation.  This is hard…and self-explanatory.

4.       Lots of salad, vegetables, fruits, and leaner meats.

Last year, I biked like crazy from June to August, but I only dropped seven or eight pounds.  Then, I stopped riding, and picked up a diet plan.  I dropped another ten to fifteen.  Just imagine what would happen if I combined those two things!

That’s the plan for the next 54 days.

Wish me luck. 

The Importance of Legacy

I attended two separate and distinct events today that were designed to recognize the past.  One was the 50^th anniversary of my church congregation being located at their current address.  Many names from the past were mentioned, and their service recognized.  Honor was extended to them…many of them in their memory since they have since passed on.  The church that is there now is in many ways one of their legacies.

The other event was a Masonic ceremony in memory of members that had passed away in the previous year.  When I say it was a ceremony, I mean that to the fullest extent.  I am not a Mason, but my father-in-law was, and he was one of the men for whom the memorial was held.  The event was held in the Scottish Rite Cathedral in downtown Indianapolis, and my wife’s father simply loved that place.  He spent hours upon hours there, performed countless works of service in support of the organization, and was fully devoted to the Masonic and Scottish Rite principles.  As I walked around inside the old, very ornate building with its intricate craftsmanship, I couldn’t help but think of Woody and how much he truly loved it there.  It is one of his legacies.

Legacy.

A legacy in simple terms is just something handed down from one individual, generation, or organization to another.

Many people just pass on through this life and leave very little mark…very little legacy.  Sure, those closest to them have memories…small legacies…that they hang onto for a few years.  But, soon enough, those memories fall into the chasm of history.  If you consider history, recognizing the millions upon millions of people who have lived, how many of them really did, said, or accomplished something of significant consequence that caused people to remember them beyond their own lifetime?

Have you ever considered what your legacy will be?  What will you have to hand down?

And, on top of even the idea of handing down a legacy, have you considered whether it will be a GOOD legacy?  After all, some people are truly remembered, but not for the good they left in their wake.  Think Hitler, etc.

I hope that when my time comes to pass on into the annals of history that I have left behind some pieces and parts that are worthwhile of being remembered.  Maybe that’s why I write.  Once I’m gone, my literary creations will remain...whether you think they are good or not so good.  But, I hope I leave a bigger legacy than a few articles, some cheesy poems, and a handful of decent short stories.

I hope I leave a legacy of making a difference.

First of all, I hope that my feeble attempts service in leadership at the Southeastern Church of Christ will be used by God to truly help people.  I hope when they celebrate the 75^th or 100^th anniversary that they will think well enough of me…that I will have done enough good…to be mentioned as a positive influence.  I don't want to be remembered for holding a title...but for making a difference.

But, even more important to me is my hope that I will pass the baton of a love for God on to my children just as my dad passed it on to me.

I’m good at my work.  I’m a successful salesperson in an industrial industry.  But, I don’t really care all that much about how I’m remembered for that.  Who cares if I sell more bearings than anyone else?  I could become the most successful bearing salesman to have ever lived, but if I have not helped someone to a better life, and especially if I have not passed on that flame of faith born of a love for God to my children, then I am a failure and I should be forgotten.

Some people have to have the most toys.  What’s the saying?  “He who dies with the most toys wins!”  Really?  Who is going to care once those toys are rusted out, distributed to others, or auctioned off?

Some people want the greenest lawn surrounded by an impeccable landscape.  Give me some dandelions….I’ll put up with crabgrass…if the trade-off is that my kids walk with the Lord.

We are still building our legacies…you and me.  It is still yet to be seen what we will leave behind.  I have a saying that I created a few years ago: 

“Be the person today that will lead you to become the person that you want to be tomorrow.”

Think about that as you build your legacy.  Be the person today that will lead you to build the legacy that you want for tomorrow’s generation.  That will be my goal.

A Muncie Boyhood-10 of My Favorite Memories from Muncie, Indiana

10 of My Favorite Memories from Muncie, Indiana

1. Sitting on the front porch in July at 2am, while sipping a Coke from Cantrell’s Barber Shop, and watching the cars go by.
2. Walking to Heekin Park with my dad on a warm summer day.
3. Running through the middle of the clothing racks at the downtown Ball Stores or Sears Department stores.
4. Playing army with all the neighborhood kids…across every yard in the area…hiding behind or in or on any tree, garage, or house that seemed to provide good cover.
5. Going on my first date to see the fireworks on the 4^th of July at Prairie Creek Reservoir.  (1978)
6. Seeing Halloween…at the Rivoli Theater…at night…alone.  Then, checking the backseat of my car before getting in for the ride home.
7. Going fishing in Stoney Creek with my dad, and catching bluegill and catfish with a cane pole.
8. The New Year’s Eve Sing at the Fairlawn Church of Christ, followed by all-night bowling at the Village Bowl, followed by breakfast at the Big Wheel Restaurant.
9. Sledding down the big hill on the west side of the reservoir.  (I went back recently, and that hill looks tiny now.  What happened?  Also, where did it come from?  It seems so random.  I sure hope it wasn’t a Native American mound that we’ve destroyed over the years.)
10. Sharing all of my inner thoughts and feelings…all of my fears and hurts…with my therapist….my little white dog with the brown ears named Sugar.  I had her from the time I was one until I was seventeen years old.
11. Okay...so, I had to add one more...seeing the woman who would become my wife for the first time.  It was at church...she was a BSU student...I was home from college for the weekend.  Man!  The long, curly brown hair and the exotic eyes!  Whew!

Obviously, this list isn’t exhaustive, and I’ll probably think of a dozen more that I cherish in the next hour, but I’ve enjoyed remembering these as they came to mind.

What about you?  What are some of your favorite memories from your childhood in your hometown…especially if you’re from Muncie?

Science & Creation-Outside the Box

I suppose we should all realize that this particular discussion is moot since regardless of what we may believe, we are here.  The world exists…unless you are a Philosophy major, and then you may ask the question of whether reality is really real.  But, I’m sticking with a real reality…we are here…and how we all got here really doesn’t matter all that much.

That confusion-inducing statement having been said, this subject interests me, and it is something that I’ve been thinking about for a long time.  Further, this is also one of those subjects where my thinking is outside of the mainstream. 

In fact, it is outside the mainstream of both sides of this issue.

Now, I’m not a scientist.  I’m just a regular guy who pays attention…likes Star Trek…is a little nerdy…is intrigued by science...and is a believer in God.  In some ways, my opinion isn’t worth two plug nickels, but I do write a blog and some people read it, so here are my random thoughts on the issues from the now famous Bill Nye/Ken Ham debate on whether Creationism is a viable explanation of how the Universe came into being.

First, let me say that I wasn’t going to watch it.  I just get tired of these arguments that solve nothing.  But, after I decided to share my views on the subject, I decided I should take a gander at it.  So, I spent a couple of hours watching it on YouTube the other night.  Actually, it was interesting.  I found some compelling things being shared on both sides, and I was pleased that overall it was a friendly exchange.

I agreed with some things from both, and I disagreed with some things from both.

Here are some of my random thoughts on the topic…not necessarily tied to the debate:

• The Bible says that “God created…,” but it never elaborates on the method used.  As a child, I envisioned that things just POPPED into existence.  But, couldn’t God have used a method…a process…a portion of which we now call Evolution?
• There are things we use in the world today (think technology) that only a couple of hundred years ago would have been considered supernatural.  The supernatural becomes the natural once we understand the process and the science behind it.
• The Bible is not a Science textbook.  It was not provided by God as a way to fully explain science.  That is just not its purpose…rather Christ was the purpose.  Everything was pointing toward Him.  If you wrote a cookbook and then found out some school system was using it to teach math, wouldn’t you question that school board’s thinking?  A cookbook has some math in it, but that isn't its purpose.
• In the debate, the biggest sticking point between Nye and Ham was the age of the Earth.  Nye believed it to be billions of years old while Ham holds to only about 6000 years.  However, the Bible NEVER directly says how old the earth is.  It does not ever…EVER…pinpoint a start date.  The method used by Ham and others to develop the timeline is by counting backward from Christ using the biblical genealogies.  If you start at Christ (2000 years ago) and then follow the genealogies based on how long each generation lived, you come up with about 6000 years.  I don’t believe that this is a viable way to date the Earth to the beginning point.  However, my main point here is that this is a MAN-MADE construct of how to date the Earth.  The Bible never says that this is the way to do it.  Mankind has come up with it on its own.
• Ham holds to a literal “Six-Days” of creation…meaning six 24-hour periods.  God created and things POPPED into existence, and He did it all in six literal days.  I no longer hold to that view, although I used to.  Rather, I believe that God employed an allegorical language that ancient people could grasp.  Why is it so hard to believe that God could use an allegory?  Do we think He is so limited in His literary skills that He couldn’t come up with something like that?  Frankly, I’ve come to the conclusion that the six days represent immensely long eons of time…periods in the history of the Earth where God brought about great changes using the processes that science is discovering through its ongoing research.  This in no way threatens my belief in the inspiration of the Bible.  Frankly, when facts are uncovered that challenge my interpretation of the Bible, I don’t start questioning the Bible…I start questioning my understanding of it.

Now, here’s where I’m going to throw out my own half-baked theory.  It’s half-baked because it isn’t fully developed.  And, it is a theory...not a doctrine that I've constructed.  I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, but I’ve not fully worked it all out.  And, I’m not going to assume that I’m the first to think about this either, but I’ve never heard anyone express the following concept before.  Here goes…

I am coming to the belief that the creation of man in Genesis 1 and the creation of Adam and his placement in the Garden of Eden in Genesis 2 are two separate events.

I believe that humans were created by God (through whatever process He chose to use) sometime in the ancient past, but the creation of Adam and Eve was something special…a special creation of a man and a woman that happened much, much later.  I’ve not come to a conclusion as to what was special about them…other than maybe it was God’s first step toward creating a people to whom he could have a relationship with…a people who were self-aware, creative, and/or carried within them a soul.  I’m still working on that.  But, if this is true, then it explains a couple of other things:

1. It allows for a much, much older Earth consistent with the evidence being uncovered by modern research.
2. It even allows for the possibility of a literal six 24-hour days of creation…just much longer ago…although I still think that it is an allegory.
3. It explains where the people came from that Cain was so afraid of when God banished him…and where he found his wife.

In this theory, Adam is still the first man, but he is first in a different way than the way the box that we’ve all been raised in explained it.  He wasn’t the first human, he was first in some other way that has then filtered down through all of mankind.

So, just let me leave that hanging out there….

You can tear it down…help me develop it…think I’m nuts…whatever.

I’ll leave you with some parting thoughts:

1. Scientific discoveries point to an Earth that is much older than 6000 years.  There are even some Biblical anomalies that remain uneasily explained in the young-earth view.  If we adamantly deny the evidence without giving deeper thought…even thought outside our religious boxes…, then we do begin to appear ridiculous to the rest of the world.
2. Scientific discoveries are not contradictory to the existence of God…at least nothing that I have seen says there is no God.  Bill Nye even acknowledges that science cannot disprove God.
3. Science does not displace God, it simply reveals His processes.  For example, if evolution is true, then it was simply the process created by God to bring things about…science has simply revealed something about how God made the Earth.
4. Finally, the Big Bang Theory…more than anything else…points to God.  Science theorizes that the Universe POPPED into existence sometime billions of years ago.  However, it cannot explain HOW that happened or WHERE that matter came from.  Scientists cannot really explain it, but we can understand that it came from God.  While we can be questioned on where God came from… and we have no answer beyond that He just always existed…, science can be questioned on where the matter in the Big Bang came from…and there just is not a satisfactory answer to that…other than God.

My conviction is that we Christians should stop fussing about evolution…stop arguing about the age of the Earth…and just start glorifying God with each new discovery our atheist friends in the science world uncover about the processes that God used when He brought the Universe into being.  Because, in their own way, those folks will find that God really was behind it all after all.  He is at the end of the string they are tugging on.


PS:  I in no way mean to say that there aren't any believing scientists.  There are.  And they make many, many discoveries of God's processes every day.

Inspiration from a Remarkable Man



Woody is in the center.

“I’m going to buy you a T-shirt with a target on the back,” said the smiling and imposing man.

“Why’s that?” I asked in response with a touch of trepidation.

“So I can hit you from long distance,” answered my new girlfriend’s father.  “Hahahahaha!”

Those were the first words that I can recall my father-in-law speaking to me, and they were the beginning of over 30 years of laughter, support, encouragement, advice, and….lots of friendly ribbing at my expense.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

The world has its share of bad men.  The majority of us are simply mediocre.  Only occasionally will you run across someone who is truly remarkable.  I found one, and I’ve been married to his daughter since 1985.

That remarkable man, Wendell (Woody) Vandivier…aka Boo Boo…, passed away on Saturday morning, January 4, 2014. 

The feeling is surreal.  On the one hand, his family is heartbroken.  On the other, we are celebrating the life of a man who has made such a difference in the lives of those around him.  Some in huge ways, and others in small ways.  And, I think the reason for this strange combination of feelings is his remarkable character.

Remarkable.

I’ve had that word force itself to the front of my mind ever since I learned of his passing.  In some small way, I want to share what made him so remarkable to me.  I’m going to try to at least give you a flavor of the man who became my second dad.  One of my daughters made a list of 10 things she will always remember about him.  That seems like a good enough format for me to copy.

1. He always met me with a smile and a joke.  ALWAYS.  The truth is that he did that with EVERYONE.  Family.  Friends.  Guys walking down Barth Avenue.  Waitresses.  Even nurses and physical therapists working with him as he neared his passing.  It was his job to put a smile on your face, and he worked at it tirelessly; sometimes planning his next trick or joke days or weeks in advance.
2. He loved his granddaughters with all of his heart, and poured himself into them whenever they were around.  They were his joy.  Whether it was holding them on his lap in his Lazyboy chair when they were little, or traveling to their chosen college for a visit as they grew up, he made the extra effort to show them how much they meant to him.
3. While I did see him occasionally get emotional and once raise his voice, I NEVER saw him lose his temper.  Ever.  He never demanded respect, but always somehow attained it.  I suspect that he earned his family’s deep respect by pouring so much love on them that they could not bear to show him any cause for disappointment.
4. He just loved life.  Whether it was traveling to see his family, working in his garden or Piddle Parlor, or helping me cut up a fallen spruce, he loved to be with people…especially his family…, and he lived in the moment.  He enjoyed life as it came his way, and that joy washed over onto anyone he was around.

Okay, so I didn’t get to 10 things on my list.  Maybe not, but I think I did get to the heart of what made him remarkable.  I haven’t said it yet, but it’s there…  It’s in between the lines…  It’s leaking out…  Did you catch it?

It was his Unselfish Nature.

He was always giving to someone.  His wife.  His boys.  His daughter.  His daughters-in-law.  His son-in-law.  His granddaughters.  His great grandchildren.  His extended family.  The guy who owned the gas station down the road.  The man who owned the property where he gardened.  The apprentices that went through his training program.  The myriad of waitresses that took his orders over the years.  The receptionist at the doctor’s office.  The nurses and physical therapists at Rosegate.  Basically, whoever was right in front of him at the time.

What made him remarkable, and someone I desperately want to imitate was that he was a GIVER.

Wholeheartedly.  Without reservation.  With joy.

In our world today,… with all that we see around us,… all the mess that is mankind,… when you run across a person like Woody Vandivier,…someone who is an unselfish person with a mind to give joy to those around them, the only word that can describe it is:  REMARKABLE.

And, I’ve been lucky enough to be his son-in-law for nearly 30 years.

I have truly been blessed.