I chose that title for a reason. I've been around just long enough now to understand a few things, things I wish I'd gotten my head around years ago. Here's one of them.
Lack of hardship makes soft people. My grandparents and my parents lived through the Great Depression and WWII. My great-uncle's family lived in a big city during those years, and he recalled many times when he went to bed hungry. Food was never far from his mind the rest of his life. Compared to them, anything I've gone through is minor by comparison.
Because they'd been tested and they had endured, these folks moved through their later lives with a grace that has almost been lost today. Minor troubles were brushed away with a wrinkle of the nose and a dismissive gesture that said more loudly than words, "This is nothing...not worth the time to think about."
These are the people who, while suffering heart attacks and other life-threatening maladies, told their loved ones to request the ambulance come for them without sirens because they "...didn't want to wake the neighbors."
They were stronger, bigger, and more blessed than I can ever be, because they knew how to brush off life's negatives and enjoy life's positives.
I look around me today, at kids who are furious because their parents won't give them the money to buy new ring tones, at parents who ignore their kids and then blame the schools for failing them, at many other sad, graceless things...and I wonder if I am the last of my kind-someone who remembers some of the best of our past, and who tries to imitate it.
I know there are holdouts out there. I meet them occasionally, on the internet, in real life, in a news story about a rare hero, and it gives me hope. Maybe there will always be those who carry grace inside of us. We hold the door for an elderly woman instead of mocking her behind her back, we yield to the pushy driver without feeling the need to throw out our middle finger, we jump to help a stranger even if it puts us in danger. We take what life deals us, and we do the best we can with it, without complaint or bitterness.
That's the kind of person I want to be. And it's why I chose "Grace of Angels" as my blog title. I want to remember the grace of the forgotten angels, and bring it back to life.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Happy Belated Earth Hour!
I've been thinking about the whole Earth Hour thing for the last few days. OK, I admit I didn't take it too seriously. I'm not much of a fan of symbolism. So yeah, I was going around Youtube posting smart-ass comments on people's pro-Earth Hour vids. And I didn't participate. At least, technically I didn't.
One of the things about me that has changed over the years is how I feel about the environment and humankind's effect on it. I've come to hate seeing trees torn down, to be replaced by ANOTHER mini-mall or overblown McMansion. I've grown disgusted at the sight of garbage along the roads, in the woods, everywhere. I detest our greedy gobbling of precious resources.
I wouldn't call myself an environmentalist-I feel no urge to stand in front of bulldozers or chain myself to an old-growth tree. But I have become a conservationalist-that is, I believe in less greed, more preservation, and sensible alternatives to land-rape. I think it's our responsibility to caretake the earth for those who follow us, not use the earth up and leave our progeny a messy, unhealthy, polluted planet.
I think we're at an interesting point in history right now. As of this moment, despite great strides in "sustainable living", it's still expensive to totally "go green". For instance, if every home in America were equiped with a solar electricity system, our need for generated electricity would fall by a shocking amount, and the environment would be improved immeasurably. But considering it still costs an average of $20,000.00 to convert a home, that's just not an attainable goal. If half our cars were hybrid or electric, we wouldn't need foreign oil at all! That is, if everyone could afford to spring an extra $5,000-$15,000 to buy the latest new fuel-misers. But we can't, so we don't.
However, technology keeps striding on, and I think the day will come (probably within the next twenty years) where more cars and homes will be powered by sustainable methods than not.
Until then, I do the best I can. One of my considerations in buying my condo was whether its size and layout were energy-efficient. For instance, it has smaller rooms that tend to be easier to light. When watching TV or reading in my living room, just one energy-saver light bulb is enough to make the room cheery-bright. My power usage is low, my energy bills are cheap, I am happy.
When I went looking for a vehicle this time, my eyes passed longingly over the spacious, full-sized Chevy Tahoes and Cadillac Escalades, and settled on a small Chevy Blazer. It gets better mileage, my gas bill is lower, I am happy.
I think "going green" means doing what you can, when you can. And I do think it makes a difference.
One of the things about me that has changed over the years is how I feel about the environment and humankind's effect on it. I've come to hate seeing trees torn down, to be replaced by ANOTHER mini-mall or overblown McMansion. I've grown disgusted at the sight of garbage along the roads, in the woods, everywhere. I detest our greedy gobbling of precious resources.
I wouldn't call myself an environmentalist-I feel no urge to stand in front of bulldozers or chain myself to an old-growth tree. But I have become a conservationalist-that is, I believe in less greed, more preservation, and sensible alternatives to land-rape. I think it's our responsibility to caretake the earth for those who follow us, not use the earth up and leave our progeny a messy, unhealthy, polluted planet.
I think we're at an interesting point in history right now. As of this moment, despite great strides in "sustainable living", it's still expensive to totally "go green". For instance, if every home in America were equiped with a solar electricity system, our need for generated electricity would fall by a shocking amount, and the environment would be improved immeasurably. But considering it still costs an average of $20,000.00 to convert a home, that's just not an attainable goal. If half our cars were hybrid or electric, we wouldn't need foreign oil at all! That is, if everyone could afford to spring an extra $5,000-$15,000 to buy the latest new fuel-misers. But we can't, so we don't.
However, technology keeps striding on, and I think the day will come (probably within the next twenty years) where more cars and homes will be powered by sustainable methods than not.
Until then, I do the best I can. One of my considerations in buying my condo was whether its size and layout were energy-efficient. For instance, it has smaller rooms that tend to be easier to light. When watching TV or reading in my living room, just one energy-saver light bulb is enough to make the room cheery-bright. My power usage is low, my energy bills are cheap, I am happy.
When I went looking for a vehicle this time, my eyes passed longingly over the spacious, full-sized Chevy Tahoes and Cadillac Escalades, and settled on a small Chevy Blazer. It gets better mileage, my gas bill is lower, I am happy.
I think "going green" means doing what you can, when you can. And I do think it makes a difference.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I laid around this weekend like a beached whale and did absolutely NOTHING. Though I feel a little guilty, I have to say I enjoyed it and needed the rest. Well, except for one part.
I locked my keys in my truck. Fortunately, I made spares recently. Unfortunately, they were still in the little hardware store bag inside the truck. I concluded my weekend with two solid hours breaking into my own car. You'd think the thing was a Mercedes or a Lexus with advanced anti-theft design instead of a freakin' Chevy cuz that was the hardest unlock (as cops call them) that I've ever done. I think I should lock all my valuables in my truck instead of in my condo, cuz DAMN if anyone can break into that SUV, they deserve the whole load.
Well, the nice thing is, my little 4WD gem is paid for. It ain't no status symbol, but it's clean, it's in great shape, and no bank owns my soul. I look around me at all the people driving money machines that look great but cost a fortune, and I ask myself, what price to impress? Payments, stress, tight budgets? That's not for me anymore.
Could I afford to make a payment on a fancy car? Yeah, probably. But the money I'm saving has already paid to put a broke friend through two more semesters at college, and has kept my young cousin in Florida eating while he looks for another job. All in all, I feel good about it-I've invested in people, not things.
We Americans obsess to much about clothes and cars and...stuff. And in doing so, we slowly lose our souls and forget what's really important in life. People count. Stuff doesn't. When my time comes, I'd rather be surrounded by people who love me than by a pile of possessions I can't take with me. I know what I'll find more comforting-a caring voice, the touch of loving hands.
Still, I AM going to put a lift kit on my truck. Yeah, I'm not perfect lol!
I locked my keys in my truck. Fortunately, I made spares recently. Unfortunately, they were still in the little hardware store bag inside the truck. I concluded my weekend with two solid hours breaking into my own car. You'd think the thing was a Mercedes or a Lexus with advanced anti-theft design instead of a freakin' Chevy cuz that was the hardest unlock (as cops call them) that I've ever done. I think I should lock all my valuables in my truck instead of in my condo, cuz DAMN if anyone can break into that SUV, they deserve the whole load.
Well, the nice thing is, my little 4WD gem is paid for. It ain't no status symbol, but it's clean, it's in great shape, and no bank owns my soul. I look around me at all the people driving money machines that look great but cost a fortune, and I ask myself, what price to impress? Payments, stress, tight budgets? That's not for me anymore.
Could I afford to make a payment on a fancy car? Yeah, probably. But the money I'm saving has already paid to put a broke friend through two more semesters at college, and has kept my young cousin in Florida eating while he looks for another job. All in all, I feel good about it-I've invested in people, not things.
We Americans obsess to much about clothes and cars and...stuff. And in doing so, we slowly lose our souls and forget what's really important in life. People count. Stuff doesn't. When my time comes, I'd rather be surrounded by people who love me than by a pile of possessions I can't take with me. I know what I'll find more comforting-a caring voice, the touch of loving hands.
Still, I AM going to put a lift kit on my truck. Yeah, I'm not perfect lol!
Humpty Dumpty
I'm broken.
My brain isn't wired quite right. Kind of like a car built on Monday morning (hangover time!) or Friday afternoon (can't wait to go start working on a hangover!). All the parts and pieces are there, but a couple of screws never got put in so now they're rattling around in the bottom of the junk drawer.
I have a condition called Schizoid Tendencies. I don't hear voices telling me to kill people, and I don't break out into gibberish and take off my clothes in public, but I'm not quite...right. Stress is a huge issue for me. Depression comes easily to me. I have a hard time meshing with other people. I'm afraid of clowns. OK, that last part has nothing to do with what I'm talking about.
I spent the first half of my life as an island. It was just easier that way-playing well with others was too annoying. It was easier to just think of no one but myself. I got involved in some good causes, helped people, did some good things, but in the end it was really about making myself feel good over my good deeds.
I figured if having people around was going to be such a troublesome pain in the ass, I'd have things instead. I drove Cadillacs and sports cars. I was the first guy on the block to have a cell phone. I bought expensive clothes. I lived by myself, for myself.
Then my dad got really sick. He'd had Parkinson's disease for years, but towards the end he started to get much worse. He became such a burden, my mom's health began to break down from constantly caring for him. My brother and sisters had all moved away years ago. There was no one to pick up the slack but me, so I slowly came out of my shell of selfishness and began to care for a man I'd disliked and feared all my life.
Now don't get me wrong, my dad was a good man. The best. He could build, fix or grow anything. When the church needed repair or some widow's house needed work, my dad would show up with tools in hand. He was honest and believed in hard work and self-discipline and everything that made the WWII generation great.
But the Schizoid Tendencies I didn't even know yet that I had, made me the opposite of what my dad wanted me to be. I was unmotivated, untidy, disorganized, scattered. It drove my dad crazy. Let's just say, we didn't get along very well.
But now I found myself responsible for things like taking him to the bathroom, making meals, driving him to doctors' appointments, filling prescriptions, on and on. And as I cared for this once-powerful man, now crippled and a shadow of his former self, I stopped being afraid of him. I began to see him for who he really was, just a human being with frailties and failings who made mistakes when he raised me, but who did his very best.
I loved him.
The end came so suddenly. It's usually pneumonia that kills Parkinson's victims, and my dad was no exception. So soon after learning to love him, I sat at his bedside and realized I was about to lose him forever. I couldn't stand it. I nearly went crazy. But all of my rage and tears couldn't change the outcome.
In the aftermath of his death, I came to realize that nothing I had ever cared about or chased after really mattered. Expensive things and a few good works wouldn't make me happy or fulfilled. I began to look at the world around me and found it filled with unhappiness and greed and fear and hopelessness that mirrored what I felt inside.
I hated it. I decided that since my fate was in my own hands, I would spend the rest of my life figuring life out. And I would make a difference if I could, and in doing so, maybe even save myself.
And that brings me to where I am today. I doubt very many people will ever read this long-winded melodrama, but here is where I will write down what I've learned. And if someone who stumbles across it happens to read it, and sees themselves, and lives a little better life because of it, then it will have been worth the trouble to write.
So here we go.......
My brain isn't wired quite right. Kind of like a car built on Monday morning (hangover time!) or Friday afternoon (can't wait to go start working on a hangover!). All the parts and pieces are there, but a couple of screws never got put in so now they're rattling around in the bottom of the junk drawer.
I have a condition called Schizoid Tendencies. I don't hear voices telling me to kill people, and I don't break out into gibberish and take off my clothes in public, but I'm not quite...right. Stress is a huge issue for me. Depression comes easily to me. I have a hard time meshing with other people. I'm afraid of clowns. OK, that last part has nothing to do with what I'm talking about.
I spent the first half of my life as an island. It was just easier that way-playing well with others was too annoying. It was easier to just think of no one but myself. I got involved in some good causes, helped people, did some good things, but in the end it was really about making myself feel good over my good deeds.
I figured if having people around was going to be such a troublesome pain in the ass, I'd have things instead. I drove Cadillacs and sports cars. I was the first guy on the block to have a cell phone. I bought expensive clothes. I lived by myself, for myself.
Then my dad got really sick. He'd had Parkinson's disease for years, but towards the end he started to get much worse. He became such a burden, my mom's health began to break down from constantly caring for him. My brother and sisters had all moved away years ago. There was no one to pick up the slack but me, so I slowly came out of my shell of selfishness and began to care for a man I'd disliked and feared all my life.
Now don't get me wrong, my dad was a good man. The best. He could build, fix or grow anything. When the church needed repair or some widow's house needed work, my dad would show up with tools in hand. He was honest and believed in hard work and self-discipline and everything that made the WWII generation great.
But the Schizoid Tendencies I didn't even know yet that I had, made me the opposite of what my dad wanted me to be. I was unmotivated, untidy, disorganized, scattered. It drove my dad crazy. Let's just say, we didn't get along very well.
But now I found myself responsible for things like taking him to the bathroom, making meals, driving him to doctors' appointments, filling prescriptions, on and on. And as I cared for this once-powerful man, now crippled and a shadow of his former self, I stopped being afraid of him. I began to see him for who he really was, just a human being with frailties and failings who made mistakes when he raised me, but who did his very best.
I loved him.
The end came so suddenly. It's usually pneumonia that kills Parkinson's victims, and my dad was no exception. So soon after learning to love him, I sat at his bedside and realized I was about to lose him forever. I couldn't stand it. I nearly went crazy. But all of my rage and tears couldn't change the outcome.
In the aftermath of his death, I came to realize that nothing I had ever cared about or chased after really mattered. Expensive things and a few good works wouldn't make me happy or fulfilled. I began to look at the world around me and found it filled with unhappiness and greed and fear and hopelessness that mirrored what I felt inside.
I hated it. I decided that since my fate was in my own hands, I would spend the rest of my life figuring life out. And I would make a difference if I could, and in doing so, maybe even save myself.
And that brings me to where I am today. I doubt very many people will ever read this long-winded melodrama, but here is where I will write down what I've learned. And if someone who stumbles across it happens to read it, and sees themselves, and lives a little better life because of it, then it will have been worth the trouble to write.
So here we go.......
Saturday, February 21, 2009
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