A Poem About Something We All Have in Common . . .

I never thought I would be one of these guys that freaked out over getting older - until I turned fifty.  Then, all of a sudden, my age and the realization that my time on this planet was, most likely, over half done just threw me for a loop.  I am still sorting out how I feel, and earlier this week this poem came to me.  It sums up my current feelings pretty well:

REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY

 

The photograph is faded and yellow, taken in my twentieth year.

When Reagan was President and I wore Navy whites,

And life seemed endless and I had no fear.

For I was slim and tan and young and nice to look upon – or so I’m told.

Years unnumbered lay before me, pages of life yet unwritten,

And if it occurred to me, I laughed at the thought of growing old.

 

Now the photo album has come unbound, pictures of my now-spent youth,

Lie tumbled and jumbled in a box full of memories –

And when I look in the mirror it tells me the truth.

For the man I once was has long since gone, his trim form but a memory.

Hair has greyed, waist has thickened, and though I’m still strong,

I see the old man I’ll soon become standing there, staring into me.

 

Too soon!  Not yet!  There is so much living I have not done!

Sensations unfelt, things untried, I feel that I must hasten quickly;

For more than half the sands in my hourglass have already run.

Youth was a blur, youth was an era; it felt like a short eternity.

Now my father is gone, my mother is old, my siblings about to retire,

And when girls smile at me, it seems like a cold act of charity.

 

I see with a clarity the young cannot know, I see the future that beckons;

The slow decline of my body, the withering of my mind,

As all the choices I have made demand to be reckoned.

A decade, perhaps, maybe two or three, is all that I have remaining.

Will I be hale and strong til the end?  Or an invalid,

Helpless, lying in bed, demanding and complaining?

 

This cannot be!  I won’t allow it!  I refuse to grow any older!

How many before me have screamed at the clock thus,

Their demands growing louder and bolder?

But time, the great teacher, instructs us all in reality,

For no matter how much we scream and rage,

We cannot outrun our mortality.

So what can we do, but live, and live large, seizing each day as it comes!

We know not how many we have, or how few –

As we march to the beat of our own set of drums.

From this day forth I shout from the ramparts a new battle cry;

Let all who hear take note and take heed,

If nothing else I will live ere I die!

This is the last third of my life’s brand-new creed.

 

 

Lewis Smith

Age 53

July 2017

A TRIBUTE TO MY MOM . . . .

   I have written a lot about my Dad in this blog over the last six months.  His final bout with illness, followed by his passing away in May, brought forth a flood of fond memories of happy times that helped stave off some of our deep sadness at his death.  But, looking back, I do wish now that I had written some of those things when he was still alive and of sound enough mind to read and appreciate them. I resolved that I would not make that mistake twice.

   Today my extended family gathered to celebrate my Mom's 85th birthday.  The actual date was back in May, only a few days after my Dad's funeral.  None of us felt quite like a party so soon after such a sad occasion, so we decided to wait and celebrate a bit later in the summer.  It was quite a gathering - my three siblings and their spouses were there, and seven out of ten of mom's grandchildren, as well as four out of ten great-grandchildren, plus two of my three first cousins - the son and daughter of mom's sister Bobbie (now deceased), plus assorted in-laws and one boyfriend.  We had plenty of food, laughs, and stories (including a rare opportunity for me to embarrass my big brother instead of vice versa!), and Mom was showered with gifts, cards, hugs, and wishes for many more happy and healthy years to come.

    Laura Smith is one of the most remarkable ladies I know. She and my Dad were married in 1950, right before he was recalled to military service during the Korean War.  My sister Clinta was born not long after that, then my brother Dwain, my sister Jo, and finally me - a bit of a surprise, in 1963.  Mom was a military wife briefly, but she spent over fifty years as a preacher's wife, in a time when pastors and their families were both looked up to and held to a very high standard.  She raised four kids who all grew up to be good and reputable adults (my Dad used to say with a wink: "Ain't one of my kids been in jail!") despite a few bumps along the way, including my oldest sister's "Flower Child" phase and my repeated attempts to talk her into letting me keep a pet snake.

   Mom was a teacher by profession, high school English to be precise.  She was strict but fun, demanding high quality work from her students but also investing in their lives and reminding them that she cared about them as people, not just as numbers in a grade book.  All of us had her as our classroom teacher at one point or another, I think, and she made a point of showing no favoritism and accepting no excuses when it came to our schoolwork!  But let someone treat one of us unfairly and she would sail into battle with all guns blazing, as evinced the time I got kicked out of Mr. S---------'s class after spending one period as "Teacher for a Day" my senior year.  I said (erroneously, as it turned out, but in good faith) that Hitler had been born out of wedlock, and the history teacher flew into a rage and booted me from his room!  Mom was NOT happy and let him know in no uncertain terms.  (I think Mr. S--------- may have been a member of the Hitler Youth as a child, but that is pure conjecture on my part.)

   Mom loved her students, and they loved her back.  In the mid-70's, when the "Pet Rock" craze was at it height, all her students started bringing her pet rocks.  She named each one, stone by stone, and one kid even built her a little house for them!  She displayed them at the front of her room and referred to each rock by name.  (I think she was just grateful to have the most maintenance-free classroom pets of all time!)  She was sponsor for the Future Teachers of America for many years, and after I graduated she switched career tracks and ended her time in the public schools as a high school counselor.

    Mom was a perfect match for my Dad.  He adored her and delighted in giving her gifts on special occasions, and their love was evident, not just in the way they spoke to each other in public, but in the way they treated each other at home.  She was Dad's best friend, his refuge in time of stress, and his constant companion.  I remember one time when I was about 14 or so, and we were trying to find our way to an obscure Dallas hospital to visit a sick church member.  Dad got turned around and simply could not locate the place, and was getting more and more frustrated.  Now, my Dad VERY rarely swore (I think I maybe heard him cuss 3 times in my entire life!), but he did have a number of colorful East Texas-isms that came out when he was mad, and one of them was the adjective "frazzlin' ".  He must have said it a dozen times during that drive, and finally my dear mother leaned over and put her hand on his arm and said "Honey, I think you are frazzlin' your vocabulary tonight!"  Dad burst out laughing, his anger dissipated, and I think we even eventually found the hospital.

    Mom loved church - she sang in the choir, played the piano, performed solos (or "special music" as we call it in Baptist churches), and taught Sunday School classes.  She stood by my Dad through some of the difficult times in his ministry, through combative business meetings, irate deacon interviews, and tragedies within the church family.  She was his partner in ministry and his refuge from its storms.  She was a role model to the younger women in the church, and to some of the older ones too, and how they all loved her!

    But above all, my Mom was a loyal and devoted spouse to my Dad.  During their retirement, they traveled together around the country, sometimes driving and sometimes going on tour buses.  Later they got an RV and spent months at a time at places like Cooper Lake Park and Lake Wright Patman.  But the place that truly captured their hearts was Mountain View, Arkansas.  They wound up leaving their RV there full time and driving back and forth several times a year, staying for two or three months at a time in the "Folk Music Capitol of America," where they made many friends.

    When Dad fell and broke his hip, that was the end of their traveling days.  His health went downhill after that - within a year he was a permanent resident at a local nursing home.  Mom continued to see him every day - unless it was raining, for she will not drive in bad weather.  But for five years, she would get up, get dressed, go to the nursing home, and sit with Dad till lunchtime.  They would eat together, visit with the other residents, and then she would take him back to his room.  Only when he went down for the inevitable after-dinner nap would she leave, running her personal errands in the early afternoon, then driving back to her apartment and doing it all again the next day.  Even though Dad was sadly reduced by dementia during his final two years, he always recognized her, always thought of her, and always worried about her.  "Take care of your momma!" he admonished me at the end of nearly every visit.

   Mom showed us all that "Love Wins."  When Dad was in his final illness, she stayed with him every day, only going home at night because we kids insisted.  She never left without kissing him goodbye and telling him she loved him.  Her devotion never wavered, she never grumbled or complained about her lot, and in the end, she said her goodbyes with dignity and love, one last lesson for us all.  The day after Dad's funeral, she told me: "I took a vow - 'in sickness and in health, till death do  us part' - and I kept it as well as I could."  That was very well indeed.

    Now, for the first time in 67 years, she is on her own.  She attends church every Sunday, goes to events with her Sunday School class, reads books, watches her beloved Texas Rangers, and has dinner with whichever one of us kids is free to take her as often as we ask.  She told me her new policy is to refuse no invitation, so her days and evenings are often taken up with concerts, dinners, and even stage plays.  She came to our house for the Fourth and enjoyed dinner and time with our family and friends.  The joy in her face at the party today, seeing so many familiar and much-loved faces, was a reminder that she is far from done with living yet!

   My Mom was always a good teacher - and I think she has many lessons yet to impart to us all. May she keep teaching them for many years to come!

I THINK I AM ADDICTED TO DEBATE . . .

    Actually, I know I am.  I used to love discussing politics, but the subject has become so ugly of late, with so much bitterness on both sides, that I tend to shy away from that these.  You can look back on some of my posts here from last year if you want to see how I felt about the election, or simply take my word that, for the first time in my life, I saw it as a true no-win scenario.  But despite stepping away from that particular area, I still love taking any complex issue and going back and forth, point by point.

    Religious debate is a favorite of mine.  I am a Christian and make no bones about it, and I believe that the claims of Christianity have far more historical credibility than those of any other faith.  I love engaging atheists and agnostics and discussing the historical evidence that underlies the Bible, especially the Gospels.  I have studied the issue enough that I am able to counter a lot of their arguments and counterclaims, and I feel as if the whole process of engaging people who don't share my beliefs actually strengthens my faith rather than undermines it.  And, every so often, I actually manage to change someone's mind.  One of the proudest moments of my life was about seven years ago, when a longtime agnostic friend sent me this email:  "You know, I've been thinking about it, and I have decided that the single best explanation for all those stories about Jesus rising from the dead is that He really did!"  Walking that person into the path of belief remains one of my very proudest achievements.

   I also like debating historical issues.  I have very little patience for those who say the Civil War was not about slavery.  This comes as a surprise to many, since I am a sixth generation Texan and a tenth generation Southerner.  All my ancestors, on both sides of the family, fought for the Stars and Bars - but I do believe they were on the wrong side of history, and that the whole "State's Rights" argument was largely created after the war to enshrine the Lost Cause in something more noble than the auction block and the whip.  A lot of people simply don't want to hear that, especially Southerners, but the historical facts are in my favor - and MOST people can discuss this one without getting too angry.

   Presidents?  Oh, I love discussing their merits and demerits, who is overrated (Jefferson, Kennedy)  and who is underrated (Grant, Cleveland).  I have read dozens of Presidential biographies, and I thoroughly enjoy discussing the lives of our nation's leaders in the past.  I also recognize that it takes about twenty to thirty years to truly pass historical judgment on a Presidency; before that political passions are still too strong. 

   What else to I enjoy debating?  Well, movies and such - although that is largely a matter of taste, I will still defend SUCKER PUNCH against all detractors, and insist that SAVING PRIVATE RYAN got totally ripped off for Best Picture in 1998.  "Shakespeare in Love"??? Really?    I l also love discussing what portrayals of well-known historical figures are best, and which are worst.  I follow some sports, mainly Dallas Cowboys football, and I will go to my grave saying that Dez CAUGHT THAT DARNED BALL in the playoff game against Green Bay a couple years back.

   I always try to be civil and friendly during these discussions.  If someone cannot debate an issue without getting their feelings hurt or becoming abusive, I simply won't debate them.  And one of the few things I will absolutely "unfriend" someone over on social media is if they are rude and ugly to other people in the discussion.  I have many friends and family members whose political and religious beliefs are different from mine, and we bat stuff back and forth all the time.  But if someone jumps into the discussion and starts being abusive and nasty, they are gone!

    There are a few topics that I simply hate getting into, and both of them involve conspiracy theories. A few years back I tangled with a Holocaust denier.  He wasn't a knuckle-dragging skinhead, but a man with some education and an array of websites and literature at his disposal.  But there was a nasty undercurrent of anti-Semitism that pervaded his arguments.  Once I commented that it was difficult for me to believe that the testimony of tens of thousands of Holocaust survivors was all a fabrication, and his response was a snarling: "They've gotten away with this for way too long!"  I was kind of glad when the forum where this off and on conversation had gone on for over a year shut down, because that guy made me feel like I needed a hot shower after I read his posts.

   The other thing that drives me nuts is the whole 9/11 "Truther" movement. I've had the privilege of being friends with several people, over the years, in the intelligence community.  They are good, decent people, patriotic Americans all, who love this country and defend it at great cost.  I find the idea that these same people, my friends and their co-workers, would willingly murder 3000 American citizens to achieve some sinister foreign policy goal, to be deeply offensive.  Plus the whole idea is just plain silly.  The stuff these nuts come up with - drone airplanes, crisis actors, tons and tons of high explosive somehow smuggled into one of the busiest workplaces in the whole world under the noses of 50,000 employees, it just staggers the imagination.  Not to mention the whole concept of "the secret too big to keep" - it would have taken a minimum of a couple thousand people to carry off a conspiracy of that magnitude, and there is simply no way that it could have happened. A covert op with a dozen agents is incredibly difficult; a covert op involving several thousand operatives that STAYS covert - no way!  But facts and logic never get in the way of conspiracy theorists, and any credible study or published report that contradicts their narrative is "part of the whitewash."  I sometimes try to point out stuff like this, but honestly, these people are not worth the effort.

   So there it is, the confession of a junkie.  I am addicted to debate - point by point, hopefully polite and civil, you take your side and I take mine and may the best mind win.

   GO!

  

SOME THOUGHTS ON THE FOURTH . . .

Happy Fourth of July.

No silly memes or cute cat pictures this post. I want to talk about what it means to be an American Patriot on our nation's birthday. America is a nation of astonishing diversity, both in ideas and in cultures. Yet our one of our national mottos is this: "E Pluribus Unum" - Out of many, one. We are ALL Americans, with all our different ideas, skin colors, and religious beliefs.

It disturbs me when I see some people on the far right or far left saying it is time for a second Civil War. Patriotic Americans do not wish their fellow citizens dead and maimed; patriotic Americans have no desire to see American cities in flames, America's beautiful countryside turned into a battleground, America's wives widowed and her children orphaned. The last Civil War killed 750,000 Americans - a second one, with the brutal technologies of war that exist in the modern world, would leave millions dead.

Right and left, Democrat and Republican, liberal and conservative, we are all Americans. We may have very different ideas about how to run the country, about what candidates to support, about what rulings our courts should make. But in the end, we live in one country, we salute the same flag, we are governed by the same Constitution. On this Fourth of July, let us remember the words of a great American, at a time when the country was almost as bitterly polarized as it is today. It was 1801, and Thomas Jefferson had just emerged as the victor in a bitterly contested Presidential election that was thrown to the House after the electoral votes ended in a tie. This is what he said:

"During the contest of opinion through which we have passed the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression. Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. . . . . But every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it."

Happy Birthday, America.