The Death of a President

 
In psychiatry, a great deal depends on timing, including the correct diagnosis. For instance, while you may have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event or may have had prolonged exposure to highly stressful, traumatic, or abusive conditions, you can't be diagnosed with PTSD unless your symptoms have persisted longer than six months. Under six months, we call it acute stress disorder. PTSD symptoms can persist a long time.

Looking back, I definitely think 9/11 resulted in the semblance of a nation-wide case of PTSD from which we've done a fairly good job of recovering. We're more alert to danger but less likely to shut down the entire country over an isolated, local threat. We're no longer quite so eager to send in the troops at the sound of gunfire on the far side of the world. Life has begun to approximate "normal," though we're more aware of our vulnerability and the memory of tragedy is still there and always will be. Even the extreme political right seems more intent on defeating the president's health initiative than tackling terrorism. I don't think we've done as well with November 22, 1963.

I've often thought the free love, abundant drugs, and Tune-In, Turn-On, and Drop-Out mentality of the 60s was more an expression of anger -- acting out -- than typical adolescent rebellion. For the first time in our history, almost an entire generation gave the establishment the middle finger. Its hero was dead, LBJ had taken office, the Warren Commission was established, there was a national day of mourning, and now, it was time to move on. But this generation wasn't ready yet, and we would all have to wait for Kubler-Ross (On Death and Dying, 1969) to inform us the funeral was only the beginning.

Watching the 50th anniversary of the Kennedy assassination programming the past few days, I've been struck by how often someone uttered the phrase, "People don't want to think Kennedy could have been struck down by a single individual, acting alone. The magnitude of his personality as president seems to demand much more."  I'm not certain this is accurate. I don't believe his personal magnetism or his role as the nation's leader are nearly as important as the magnitude of his loss. Ongoing conspiracy theories and the tendency of 2/3 of Americans to doubt the findings of the Warren Report symbolize the depth of grief many still feel, as well as an abiding need for it to be recognized. Mistrust of government may have burst into full flower with Watergate, but it is rooted in the mismanagement of national grief over the death of a president.  

This is likely an unfair generalization, but there is still some truth in the statement that Lyndon Johnson's generation was more accustomed to putting tragedy behind them than paying close attention to what it means and mourning its significance. Anyone who's watched the HBO presentations of Band of Brothers (2001) or The Pacific (2010), or talked at length with veterans from the Great Generation knows how exceedingly reticent they are about digging up old wounds. The idea that the country as a whole needed time and leadership in the matter of grieving was unheard of in 1963. In a very real sense, we needed a president who understood and embraced his role as nation's chaplain as well as it's chief executive. Unfortunately, this was not one of JBJ's strengths, in contrast with our current president who has been known to take hours comforting the victims of gun violence.

I was also struck by the numbers of interviewees who commented on how America had changed, subsequent to the assassination. They lamented a loss of optimism, hopefulness, and the belief anything was possible. Whether those feelings are shared by all is debatable. There were and still are, sectors of the population that make no secret of their hatred of Kennedy and the causes he and his brothers championed. Nevertheless, his loss was felt by far more and the feelings associated with it have lasted far longer than anyone might have imagined. 
 
Grief isn't resolved, if it's ever truly resolved, by assigning blame, getting even, and nursing the satisfaction gained from a moment of passion. We learn to deal with our losses, to live with them, making them part of ourselves, by refusing to play down their impact and brush them away like crumbs from the table. Grief has to be honored and mourning respected if we're ever to regain the optimism, hope, and sense of the possible that seems forever out of reach when we feel bereft. If there are lessons worth learning from the past 50 years, this is one to take to heart. 


(Creative Commons image of eternal flame at grave of John F. Kennedy by Tim Evanson via Flickr)

Remembering Where I Was, How I Felt, and Why

They say days like today, you always remember where you were when you got the news. I was in my classroom, it was lunchtime, and a fellow student rushed in, out of breath, and announced, "Kennedy's just been shot." I was too young, I suppose, to understand what that would mean, though I recall going through the rest of the afternoon with a feeling of tenuousness in my stomach and I couldn't wait to get home. 

Two years earlier, during the presidential campaign, an older teacher admonished our class that if JFK was elected, "we'll be under the Pope." Obviously, that never materialized but it reflects the mindset of some at the time. Change was difficult for them to envision and embrace, not unlike it seems now. All I knew was, my parents voted Democratic, they liked Kennedy's youth and energy, and neither cared whether he was Catholic, Baptist, or Jewish. He served in the military as had my father and we watched PT-109 (1963) with pride. 

That night, though, we watched the news all evening long. The information was mixed and we weren't certain from one minute to the next whether he'd survived or not. All I really remember was midnight and the screen flashing the American flag. The national anthem played, my mother wept, and so did I. Dad, as always, was the pillar we leaned on, but I vaguely remember him wiping his eyes as he led me down the hall to bed.

Days later, I stayed home from school and we watched the funeral. Everything and everyone moved so very slowly, to me it seemed endless. I had met death twice by then, my dog and pony both having passed away two and three years earlier. But I'd never encountered it in human form and seeing John Jr. and his sister, I was so glad it wasn't my father we were laying to rest.

In November 2000, it would be, replete with military honor guard, the firing of rifles, and a bugler playing "Taps." I wasn't thinking of John Jr. and Caroline then, nor was I thinking of their father. Not until later, when Barack Obama was running for president and I felt the same optimism and hope my parents talked about in 1963. Not until a snowy day in Portland when I met John's brother, Ted, campaigning for the president. And not until today, when I remembered where I was and how I felt and why.

 
(Creative Commons image by the smuggler via Flickr)
 

Healthcare Without Politics: The Future is Now

Is it even possible anymore, healthcare without politics? 
I don't know, but I hope so. I'd hate to think the only place it could exist was Disney World. I hope we can reach the point midst all the  maneuvering and jockeying for power and influence where our concern for those who need healthcare exceeds its value as political capital. Sadly, we're not there yet.

Back in the day when, for the average person, Blue Cross/Blue Shield was pretty much the only health insurance game in town, coverage protected in case of catastrophe, i.e. hospitalization. I've described in other posts my own experience of kidney stones necessitating two major surgeries. My family paid out of pocket for outpatient doctor visits and prescriptions, grateful our Blue Cross policy meant the cost of my hospital stay wouldn't hit us with the force of a tsunami carrying the threat of bankruptcy in its wake.

At the time I was recovering from kidney stones and for a few years thereafter, doctors were reimbursed by insurance for services rendered. It was called a fee-for-service system. More services meant greater reimbursement. Eventually, managed care firms came into existence and in the effort to control the costs of operation, they established criteria that must be met, justifying tests and procedures, before  insurance claims would be paid and doctors reimbursed. Soon it became necessary for providers and/or policy holders to obtain authorizations for treatment before managed care considered itself obligated to pay. If you think about it from a business perspective, this makes sense. A company can only pay out so much before it is unable to pay at all.

The road to hell is lined with good intentions, as the saying goes, and while management of healthcare costs was doubtless a factor in the evolution of managed care, we have to remember, healthcare insurance is still a business and the first priority of any business is to make a profit. To accomplish this goal, a business has to increase revenues and/or reduce expenses. Determining which procedures or medications were clinically indicated, ostensibly based on empirical evidence, was one way of setting limits on expenses. Refusing to cover pre-existing conditions was another. Over time, decisions of medical necessity were taken over by managed care and stories of treatment denial, some of them truly horrible, started surfacing. You've heard them on the nightly news as have I.

Despite public outcry, doctors' frustration with a growing insurance beuracracy, and the efforts of congressional leaders like the late Senator Ted Kennedy, insurance reform lagged. Ours is a free-market economy, it was argued, competition lies at the heart of the American Way. Socialized medicine in Canada and Europe, opponents declared, provided poorer quality care and ours was the best in the world. The reality, however, failed to live up to the evidence even as the arguments proliferated.

Families on the verge of collapse because of alcoholism or drug abuse may resort to performing an intervention, confronting the substance abuser who is unwilling or unable to get treatment themselves. Not dissimilarly, someone had to intervene if healthcare insurance was going to obtain the "treatment" it had long needed. Relying on competition to even the field failed to yield more affordable coverage and the number of uninsured Americans continued to grow. Either free-market theory was wrong or the industry discovered how to prosper in spite of it. Although many believed there were good reasons for reforming the system, there was insufficient motivation for the system to reform itself.

Enter the Affordable Care and Patient Protection Act, the function of which is to enable one to obtain affordable healthcare insurance and provide protection against potential abuses by the insurance industry. Under its umbrella, patients can no longer be denied coverage because of preexisting conditions. The determination of medical necessity has been placed back into the hands of those who are committed to serve the needs of patients. Doctors now have the right to review private insurance company files that identified physicians with high utilization patient populations and directed new referrals to those whose patients were regarded as healthier and therefore cheaper to insure. 

It's not a perfect solution but imperfection doesn't automatically render it a bad one. If anything, we're discovering it's a work in progress and we'll need to adjust and adapt it as we go. I don't think it represents a step toward socialism anymore than the Selective Service represented a step toward a police state. Most of us are too smart to believe that line, even if politicians aren't smart enough to find a better one. 

The Affordable Care Act is an attempt to reform a system sorely in need of reform, not only for the sake of patients and policy holders, but for its own sake as well. As with any intervention, the insurance industry finds change painful and naturally responds with anger, disbelief, and a desire to bargain, hoping to retain something of the status quo. Over time, acceptance will ensue and the industry will find itself better off for the changes that have been made. In the meantime, we're past the point of no return; pretending the good old days were the best days is a fantasy and Fantasy Land is for cartoons. We live in Tomorrow Land and the future is now. 


(Creative Commons image of Walt Disney Politics by sbwoodside via Flickr)

Pink Hats 28: Like Arrowsmith

"If Barack Obama had yo' hair colah, the two uh you could be twins."

"Ted, I've got three inches and twenty pounds on him, not to mention the other, rather obvious differences between us. You think my hair color matters that much?" Bob asked, grinning.

"No, I mean you both have or soon will have beautiful wives and two daughters, and that's a fine comparison to make, wouldn't you agree?" asked Ted, dropping his ethnicity for emphasis.

"I would, indeed, though as much as I admire him, I wouldn't trade jobs for love nor money. Difficult as mine is now and then, I'd rather be in hell with a fractured spine than have his. Though I suspect he'd say the same."

"Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes I think he'd like to be a healer, but some of his 'patients' are recalcitrant-prone."

"Mine only have tantrums."

"So do his," Ted said, with a wink and a nod, "especially the ones in Congress."

"You know what a tantrum is, don't you?"

"After four kids, not including yours, and nine grandkids, I'd say I have a fair idea."

"It's what he must feel like having when he wishes he could lay a few of them across his knee and apply the hand of cooperation to the seat of partisanship. And that's why I wouldn't want his job. You can make kids stand in the corner, but senators and congressmen?"

"Besides that," said Jessie, handing each of them mugs of steaming peppermint hot chocolate from a tray Halley was holding, "the only 'White House' I want to live in is the one we're buying. Any political aspirations will have to wait until all our children are grown and I'm tired of having you underfoot." She leaned over and kissed him sweetly. "Don't count on that happening anytime in your lifetime -- or mine, understand?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, I do," Bob said, solemnly. He turned toward Ted, "I'm practicing saying that, both 'yes, ma'am,' and 'I do.'" Ted roared with laughter.

They were relaxing in the Green Granite Inn's lounge at Cranmore Mountain Resort in North Conway after a day of skiing punctuated by Bob's first snowboarding lesson. He and Jessie had taken turns with Halley and Ted, babysitting and occasionally pulling the girls round the lift area in a miniature sleigh Jessie and Halley purchased on a recent shopping outing. It was the same day Jessie also found a navy blue wool sweater woven with a reindeer across the back for one of Bob's presents. "He loves reindeer," she confided to Halley.

The Holiday was a week away and the Inn had been transformed with wreaths on every door, pine bows, poinsettias, a traditional solitary New England candle in each window and a huge Balsam Fir, wrapped entirely in star-blue lights brushing the ceiling, near an equally huge stone fireplace. After all that had gone on in the past few weeks, the couples decided a day and a night away was certainly what any doctor with a healthy dose of common sense would order. Jen and Chuck, fast becoming an item after meeting two weeks earlier at Bull Feeney's, offered to take care of Sam.

"So, did you decide on the giraffe, Bob?" asked Halley.

"Shh, make sure the twins are still asleep, first."

"They aren't going to understand you, not yet at least," she responded, drawing the blankets back from each of the unconscious pair in their carriers, "Yes, they are, now did you?"

"Come Christmas morning, Sam is definitely going to have a surprise waiting next to the tree, and the girls? Well, I know it will be a few years before they can really appreciate it, but one look and I couldn't resist." He was referring to a five foot tall stuffed giraffe he and Jessie had seen at Tree Top Toys in the Old Port. Far too big for anything but occupying space at the moment, it grabbed his attention when they walked in and he couldn't leave without it.

"They say having children is a chance to re-experience our own childhood, do you believe that, Bob?" asked Ted.

"I don't think it's our own so much as it is seeing the world as an adult through the eyes of our children, but in either case, it's something I've missed, I know that much. And, I'll tell you this, I'm deeply grateful life doesn't hold grudges when we don't get everything right the first time."

Jessie reached up and stroked his hair. "I got an email from my dad this week and he said something I think you'll appreciate. He said relationships like ours do far more than simply give us second chances. They give us the ones we've never had. You could say -- and I'm definitely saying it -- this is our first, at long last, and I'm going to make sure neither of us misses a single minute of it."

"Like Arrowsmith? You don't want to miss a thing?"

"Just like Arrowsmith."


(Photos copyright 2011 by the author)

Don't Ask. Don't Tell

What amazes me about the policy of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, is the way it gets adults in positions of responsibility intentionally playing Let's Pretend. You pretend you're heterosexual, I'll pretend you're heterosexual, and whatever you do, don't tell me otherwise. I like pretend games as well as the next guy, or I did when I was a kid. I tend to dislike them now because when played by adults, they tend to imply a little too much dishonesty for my taste. Given the choice, I'd prefer relationships I can rely upon to be genuine and truthful.

What is so pernicious about Don't Ask, Don't Tell is the way it requires people to lie in order to save their own skin. As long as the truth is hidden, you can serve your country. The moment it becomes known, you're out in more ways than one. I realize the policy was initiated, at least as I understand it, to provide a loophole allowing for the presence of gay persons in the military. You can't serve if you're gay, but if you keep it quiet, we're okay with that. It's like saying, if you're a Person of Color you can't serve but if we can't tell you're a Person of Color, no problemo. Talk about game-playing. How on earth can someone be expected to keep that to themselves?

Well, since racial differences were impossible to hide, and because it was perceived their presence would disrupt unit discipline, for many years African-Americans had limited opportunities to serve. Initially, integrating them into the life of the corps led to some disruption -- can a major change bring about anything else? -- but the corps survived and became better for it. The reason it became better is it became more egalitarian.

There should absolutely be only one qualification a person is required to demonstrate for military service, namely, a willingness to enlist or accept being drafted, as the case my be. That's it. No upper age restrictions (uh, Mr. Pentagon, sir, after you figure out that gay persons are just as qualified as African-Americans and other Persons of Color, as well as women, and decide to treat them as such, we're coming after you on the age issue, so get ready), none based on race, gender, gender preference, gender identification, disability, religion, political affiliation, or anything else. All you ought to have to do is sign your name on the dotted line, take the oath of loyalty to protect and defend the Constitution (implying U.S. citizenship), and then hang onto your socks because here comes boot camp.

I can hear the dissenters saying, "But, but, but, we'd have to redesign boot camp to accommodate for older recruits, those with disabilities, and that means raising taxes and spending more money and we'd rather have a fancy-wancy new trillion dollar whiz-bang for our buck." Folks, you want a volunteer army? Make it truly accessible to anyone, adapt to the fact that this is the land of the free and not merely the land of those who conform to so-called social norms. Free means you can be anything you want and it's time we honored that without apology.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell -- it's a policy, the time for which is long past. Dump it and let's move on. The rest of the 21st century is waiting and the world is watching.


(Creative Commons image by cayayofm via Flickr)

Unnecessary Uncertainty and Presidential Politics

Image via WikipediaAs a follow-up to yesterday's post, I've been thinking how the most recent presidential election in this country could be viewed as a shift with respect to social ambiguity. Anytime society undergoes change, ways of thinking and living will be challenged and our responses can range from open opposition to mild resistance, from moderate acceptance to enthusiastic embrace. That's pretty much a given.

In this country, the election of a president tends to be a marker predominantly indicating how registered voters (those who actually do vote, that is) feel about the direction society is taking. If things seem too uncertain or there seems to be too much departure from established norms, the trend will be toward conservative candidates. When change is in the air and people are feeling optimistic about new ideas, we favor liberal candidates.

If voting behavior can be taken to suggest comfort or discomfort with ambiguity, and if by my quick calculations, approximately 2/3 of the past 60 years have been under relative conservative presidential leadership, in general voters have preferred to lean towards certitude rather than incertitude. In other words, faced with changing social norms as a result of greater prosperity, multiplying avenues of self-expression, and the growth of a better educated and more sophisticated population, voters preferred someone who promised to slow or, perhaps in some cases, try to halt the rate of change.

2008 was a pivotal year because it resulted in the election of a candidate who represents a unique response to ambiguity, even more so than one might expect from "liberal" leadership. For one thing, he embodies it: Barack Obama is an individual of mixed racial heritage. As such, psychologically speaking, he is a transitional figure and not solely in a racial sense. He represents a willingness to look at ambiguity realistically and deal with it as an essential element in the make-up of the world community. Not in a radical sense of complete departure from our history and heritage, but a tempered response -- more than a baby step, less than a leap.

The fact that the children of Baby Boomers took such an active role in his election should tell us something. Issues that troubled their parents have little reference to their experience. They know nothing of the Cold War or duck and cover, November 1963 isn't a part of their collective consciousness, and their first car may easily be a BMW. The atmosphere in which they were raised was already fraught with change and they've adapted without a second thought. For them, the election of a Barack Obama would seem as normal as daily life.

Now, obviously, not everyone nor every young person, became his supporter and our national response to social and cultural ambiguity remains divided. And that, too, is to be expected. But what I think matters and will find its way into history is his potential to help us find effective ways of coping with uncertainty in a world that we sometimes fear has outgrown and moved on without us. Political considerations aside, I think his election represents a desire to proactively step into the currents of our time and make a difference in where they take us. They're going to flow anyway, we may as well learn how to swim; the alternative is to be swept along and for me, that spells unnecessary uncertainty.


(Collective Commons image via Wikipedia)

Expression Without Fear

-->Does anyone use a percolator anymore? To make coffee, I mean. The last time I used one was on a Boy Scout camp out. Perhaps the large, spigot-types can still be found at AA meetings, having become almost symbolic of 12-Step communities. Generally, though, they've been so thoroughly replaced by drip makers, some of my classmates may have never seen one.

Percolators work like this: a basket filled with ground coffee and a hollow stem is inserted into a pot filled with water. Usually, an electric current heats the water until it begins to bubble up through the stem and wash over the grounds. My grandmother placed hers on a wood stove and I heated the one I mentioned over an open fire, but the effect is the same. The downside is, if you're not careful using one of these gadgets, you can make the coffee strong enough to practically strip rust from beneath your car.

The upside is they've given us a great figure of speech: bubbling up. And, as you're probably thinking, something has bubbled up for me. If you've followed this blog or looked back over some of the more serious posts, you know I have one or two convictions that I let surface occasionally. One of them I learned as a child, namely, it's a good idea to follow the Golden Rule whenever possible.

I'm troubled, however, and deeply so, when convictions become the basis for hurtful behavior and specifically, I'm referring to hate messages received by members of Congress who voted in favor of the health care reform bill. What concerns me is not the bill itself, but the implication that voting one's conscience is dangerous to health and family. Convictions are powerful things and in a free society, one ought to be able to express them without fear.

And it's the mode of their expression that is at issue. I have friends who fall on opposite sides of the fence when it comes to a woman's right to choose, but our relationships are based on other factors besides politics. We've learned to respect one another because there's more to us than merely this one thing.

And maybe that's the problem. People resort to threats when they don't see how they have any other way to get their point across. Either that, or they've lost sight of what my friends and I have learned, that in the real world, we are more important than the discrepancies between us. Don't get me wrong, I believe strongly in the value of ideas. I just believe we serve them best when we refrain from turning them into baseball bats and threaten to use them to beat other people over the head. Figuratively or literally.

A Future in Eggnog

I mentioned pumpkin eggnog yesterday and I have Harvey Perley Hood to thank for it. I don't know if he came up with the idea in 1846, but it's a good one. So's ginger snap and if you can obtain Hood products in your part of the country, you've got a treat coming. No, they don't subsidize my medical education, so call this word-of-mouth advertising. On the other hand, if there are any family members reading this and the company wants to contribute, I'm open to sponsors -- I'll even let my dog wear the T-shirt when we walk. That's got to be worth something, don't you think?

There'll have to be some limits, of course, otherwise every Tom, Dick, and Dairy in the country will try to sign him up. I'd have to quit school to manage his accounts and that would defeat the whole purpose. Despite his natural charm, he's never aspired to a career in marketing and I want to be a doctor. But I have absolutely no objections to an orange reflective vest emblazoned with the company logo.

Why an orange reflective one? Because hunting season's started and even those of us who believe in preserving the right to arm bears (you read that right) need to be protected when walking down the road. It's not stylish but it could be -- especially if it had (hint, hint) a Hood logo brightly displayed on the sides. Hey, this could start a fad with humans wanting them, too -- pawtographed by my dog.

Rap musicians -- Snoop Dog, naturally, has the honor of being first -- would wear them on stage and eventually I'll wager we'll see them at the White House. The First Kids Secret Service detail will see them as a way to better blend in at school since they'll have become a status symbol and everyone will be wearing one. Though, by now, we'll have expanded the color scheme and employed Ralph Lauren to produce designer versions for Chaps and Polo. Eat your heart out, Giorgio Armani, this is an American tradition we're starting here.

The best thing about it all? Hood grows beyond it's wildest dreams, my dog gets to meet the First Pup, and I graduate from medical school debt free. Why didn't I think of this sooner?

With the Tongues of Men or of Angels

What makes it hardest is he's forgiving. My cat, I mean. He could have held a grudge or at least been angry and scattered his food or some such thing, but instead, having lost the mouse, he crawled into bed with me this morning. I still feel badly, not because the mouse got away per se, but because I ruined my cat's evening. He's been on the hunt for days and just when he's got success firmly grasped between his teeth, I come along and, well, if you read last night's post, you know the story.

I know, this sounds a bit like anthropomorphizing -- attributing human emotions to animals -- and I can see how it might be taken that way. But I've learned my animals have lives of their own. Sometimes they seek my company, sometimes not, and I'm the same way. They have habits and preferences and within certain limits I'm determined to respect them. If the dog wants to chase a squirrel into the forest through a bed of poison ivy, that's not okay. Better to stay on leash.

But the whole question of emotion is another issue entirely. One of my closest friends is a veterinarian out in Colorado and she fully agrees, animals have the same emotion-producing centers in the brain as humans. Now, whether their feelings are as nuanced as those of humans is difficult to say, but that doesn't mean animals don't feel sadness, anger, or love. Nor does it mean we shouldn't use those words to describe them.

I wonder if the tendency to minimize animal emotion (and cognition) stems from a misinterpretation of human significance. It may be that humans aren't so much the pinnacle of evolution as simply one path among many. With greater capability comes greater responsibility.

If I may speak theologically for a moment, the Latin Vulgate version of the Bible translates the word dominion in Genesis, where it is said God gave humans dominion over the creatures of the earth, as servant. President Obama encourages us to embrace a new commitment to service because thereby we not only improve the lives of others, we raise ourselves to new levels of humanness. Speaking for myself, I think it's time to take on the mantle of servant-leadership with respect to non-humans as well. Time to take care rather than take advantage. Time to be a voice for those who cannot speak with either the tongues of men or of angels.*


(Image of "Homersapiens" by PhOtOnQuAnTiQuE via Flickr)

*Often quoted at weddings, "Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels, if I have not love, I am but a clanging brass or tinkling cymbal."

The "Other" Ted Kennedy

I spent last evening watching the wake for Senator Ted Kennedy at the presidential library in Boston. Long-time friends spoke, sharing personal memories that rarely reach the public eye. At the funeral of Israeli Prime Minister Itzhak Rabin, for instance, Ted privately took soil from the graves of his brothers, and spread it over Rabin's grave after the crowds had left the scene.

The Vice-President Joe Biden related how Ted had been like an older brother, helping him find his way as a senator. Had it not been for Ted, he said, he'd not be where he was in life. Bobby's eldest son, Joe Kennedy, thanked Ted's children for sharing their father because he, his siblings, and Jack's children, needed a father figure and Ted was there for them.

There was laughter as stories about sailing, practical jokes, and family trips to historical sites surfaced. Some talked about the visible change that took place in Ted's life when he met his wife, Vicki. Everyone talked about how, in one way or another, they felt like they were members of his extended family, whether by kinship or by friendship.

I was struck by one thing in particular. The Ted I had met was the same one they had known. This was his way with everyone, it seems, and I wondered what made him so. As I listened to their stories, I came to believe his pain had made the difference. Not simply losing his brothers, but the failure of his first marriage, Chappaquiddick, his own struggles with alcohol.

Whatever history or those who somehow feel qualified or justified in passing judgment might say, I think he learned from his pain and turned it into compassion. Love helped immensely. Watching his wife that snowy day in Maine, she struck me as natural, unaffected, spontaneous, and kind. She took a man 22 years her senior and helped him find his heart. The debt many feel they owe Ted, they owe her as well.

A community choir sang last night -- not the great hymns of faith that one might expect, but rather the bluesy-jazz-gospel mix you hear in an African-American church. And like Ted, when I first met him, at the very end they led the crowd in singing, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling. And that's when I lost it.


(Image by Barack Obama via Flickr)

Hail and Well-Met

An event in the news yesterday got me thinking of persons I've run into, usually by accident, over the years. One evening in Dallas, while working at a Bennigan's restaurant, I turned around and met the ABC sportscaster Pat Summerall as he walked in the door after a Cowboys' game. Just this past fall, I happened to be at an Obama campaign meeting and shook hands with Senator Ted Kennedy, something I'll never forget.

In years to come, Michelle Obama will no doubt describe for her daughters what it was like meeting Elizabeth II and the Duke of Windsor. Moments like that are encounters with living history. But this time, upon her return to the White House, I imagine a slightly different conversation.

"Mommy, Mommy, did you really meet her? What was she like? Did she give you an autograph? Tell us, tell us!"

"The Queen? Oh, she doesn't give autographs, but she was delightful."

"No, Mommy, not the Queen -- J. K. Rowling!"

It seems the First Lady was seated next to J. K. Rowling at a dinner for GD-20 spouses and I have no doubt the Obama daughters can hardly wait for their mother's detailed description of their meeting. They may have discussed Rowling's involvement with charitable causes and I wouldn't be surprised if she received an invitation to visit the White House at some point. But for her daughters, knowing their mother spent the evening with the creator of Harry Potter, it has to have been nothing short of magical.

In the midst of all our appropriately laiden concerns about the environment, the war in Iraq, and the future of the economy, it's wonderful having young children in the White House once again. The First Family being a family helps create a sense of proportion and optimism that we've badly needed. We can be battered but not defeated, stressed but not in despair, down but not out.

I'd like to be a fly on the wall when Michelle tells her daughters about J. K. Rowling and it does my heart good to think of the Harry Potter novels on a bookshelf in the White House. I hope it does yours good as well.

Show Me The Way

Well, once again I've been AWOL from writing. The past three weeks have been awash with exams and whenever I've tried to write, the pressure of impending doom has disrupted my thinking and driven me back to the books.

Today I'm basking in the warmth of the first Sunday since fall that the temperature has risen above 50. That may not seem like much to those in warmer climates but in Maine, it's a heat wave. The sounds of water dripping from the roof and snow sliding off the barn are pleasant portents of spring that are truly welcome. My dog and I may actually walk today without bundling up.

For the most part, though, it still looks like winter. Snow covers the hayfield, I'm wearing flannel shirts (yes, from L.L. Bean -- who else?), and only a cock-eyed optimist would even think of taking the snow tires off the car before the end of April. So, it looks like we're in one of those transition periods where change is coming slowly.

I think American religious life is in a period of transition. For the past, oh I'd say thirty years, the trend toward fundamentalism has been a pretty dominant feature. I graduated from seminary in 1977 and the hottest topic of the day was what will the "End-Times" be like. The following year, students were arguing about the inerrancy of the Bible and by the mid-1990s the Southern Baptist Convention, the largest American Protestant denomination, had shifted to the right. The most recent Presidential election, however, showed signs of another shift, this time away from the extremes and back toward the middle.

Usually, during periods of social unrest and economic uncertainty, more conservative denominations flourish. But it seems people are hungry for more than the appearance of certainty, and in spite of the state of the economy report feeling more hopeful. What a paradox. Maybe we really are set on the brink of something new and vibrant in American life. Maybe for the first time in years, we're ready to stop looking for someone or something to blame and instead, looking to each other for solutions. I don't think we elected a President in the anticipation that he would be the agent of change. I think Americans are starting to feel the need to change themselves and they elected someone who can show them the way.

A President With Heart

In this morning's Parade magazine there is an open letter from President Elect Barack Obama to his daughters. What struck me as I read this was its humanity. I think that's what attracted me to Obama in the first place. Other Presidents have seemed less approachable. What I mean by this is, with the exceptions of Jimmy Carter and John Kennedy, other occupants of the Oval Office have appeared so presidential that I had a difficult time imagining myself in a conversation with them.

Part of it, I'm sure, is the fact that Obama has made himself so accessible by means of the internet. This in itself is completely new. I mean, how often has a candidate opened himself to regular communication with his supporters and then actively encouraged it? Furthermore, every email I received from him was signed "Barack," not Senator Barack Obama. One might say this was a carefully crafted attempt to gain support by making people believe he was being personal. I'm not convinced. Too many have gotten elected previously without this kind of interaction; I think we're seeing who he really is.

I mentioned Jimmy Carter and I'm thinking of his fireside chats with him clad in a cardigan. I remember hearing how this failed to appeal to many Americans and it's possible Carter was ahead of his time. As a country, we may not have been ready for a President who was like us. Ronald Reagan presented the image of a strong Commander in Chief who was no-nonsense, all business, and intent on taking charge. I suspect this is the kind of image John McCain would have liked to have been associated with as well, but times have changed. While we want someone who can be counted on in a pinch, we are also willing and even eager to identify with a President who knows what it's like to overcome minority status, to experience loss and grow because of it. We like seeing him playing ball and being a family man. We're ready for a President who is not only a father, he's a dad.

I hope you'll take time to read the Parade article. I think you may find it refreshing and touching. It certainly gives us one more glimpse into the heart of the person we've elected, and that's important. We need to know a President has a heart. We've certainly had our share of Presidents who acted as though ambition was enough. It's not. We need more and I think this time, we got it.

Don't Be Afraid

The weatherman said it would be a "classic nor'easter," and he wasn't kidding. The snow began early yesterday morning and by midnight, I'd shoveled over 16 inches of new snow. This morning dawned with blue sky and the hayfield looks like a fairy land. I'm mentioning this, not only because it's the current news from Maine, but because the selection of Rick Warren by the President Elect to deliver the invocation at the inauguration in January seems to have stimulated a similar storm, not of snow, but public opinion.

Of all the things that can be said of the President Elect, one thing is surely true: he's going to do the unexpected. Now, throughout the campaign he stressed his desire to bring people together. He stated again and again that he believed there was more that unites us as Americans than separates us. It looks like some are surprised he actually meant it.

One of the things that most impressed me about Obama during the campaign was his apparent lack of fear. What I mean is, he seemed sufficiently secure in his convictions that he could engage those who disagreed with him in meaningful dialogue. He even went so far as to state he'd be willing to meet with representatives of countries we regard as hostile to our interests, in unconditional open discussion. It takes nerve to do that.

By including people like Rick Warren, I think the President Elect is trying to help us realize we've got to stop being afraid of one another. How do I know we're afraid? Well, take a barking dog for example. There are a lot of reasons dogs bark. Mine rushes to the window anytime someone jogs by and sounds the alarm: "Warning, warning, alien approaching, Wil Robinson!" Like dogs, people "bark" when they feel threatened, and beneath the guise of bravery, we find fear.

During the course of the campaign, occasionally a line from FDR was repeated: "The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." I think Obama believes our greatest enemy is fear: unexamined and unconscious fear. We attack one another because we're afraid of what it means to have liberals in the White House. We strike out because we're afraid of what conservatives will do to the Supreme Court. Since 9/11 we've lived in fear that someone, somewhere, was going to do something to hurt us. I think Obama is trying very hard to show us that we don't have to be afraid. We really can talk with one another without blaming, accusing, and labeling. And if we can treat our fellow Americans with at least some measure of respect, perhaps we can demonstrate to the world that there are better ways of solving problems than by killing each other.

He may be wrong. I may be wrong. But it doesn't hurt to try. It really doesn't.

Transparency

When I checked my email this morning, I found a letter from the Obama Transition Team. It seems they have decided to post the activities of the team online and open them up to comment. This is definitely a different way of "doing government," and it reminds me of a wonderful story about Andrew Jackson. You've probably heard it before. It seems he was given a rather large -- several hundred pounds -- block of cheese and he left it in the foyer of the White House so that visitors could help themselves. Apparently, Jackson was fond of allowing the people to "drop by" from time to time.

The size of government can seem daunting and access limited. You write a letter to the President knowing an aid will read it -- maybe you get a reply, maybe not. But actually posting documents and inviting comments, removing the barriers of authority and sharing responsibility: this is new. Well, maybe not new, but certainly overdue.

I like the idea of transparency in government and I like the idea of inviting the people to participate in the process of governing. There are some who feel they've elected others who are "more qualified" to make decisions for them and that's fine. But if I've got an opinion that I think is worth sharing with my friends, what makes me think it's not worth sharing with those who have the power to act? I love the line spoken by Kevin Costner's character in the film, 13 Days, discussing the Cuban Missile Crisis: "There's no 'wise old man' here -- hell, there's just us." I'm not convinced its not always that way.

Fairy tales are metaphors for human experience, not just bed-time stories for children. And one theme that repeats itself over and over is the "young fool" who saves the kingdom. In the story of David and Goliath, for example, all the king's horses and all the king's men are inadequate for the task of facing the Philistine army with their secret weapon, Goliath, and it falls to a young shepherd to slay him with a stone.

Maybe we are all like David when faced with the magnitude of governing, but that doesn't mean we are unqualified. It simply means we are human. Take a moment and visit change.org -- read a bit, make a comment. Who knows what will happen?

What does it matter?

 
The title of this blog derives from a metaphor a friend once shared with me. He said, "Christianity is like one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread." I've always liked that because it highlights one of the key facts of life, i.e. that we are all indebted to someone. None of us has all the answers and the truth be told, maybe there are very few to be had afterall -- at least on this side of eternity. So, we turn to each other and ask our questions.

There was a time when I thought mine had changed, depending on time, place, and situation. Now I'm coming to realize I ask the same questions again and again, hopefully getting better each time with their framing. Ultimately, I think that's critical because the answer we derive depends on the character of the question, not to mention that of the questioner. It isn't enough, for example, to simply ask if life has any meaning at all. That's far too general. The real issue is, does my presence on earth render life more significant. How do I meaningfully contribute to life?

I'm reminded of a wonderful tale about a businessman who decided to go on a long journey. Maybe it was one to find himself -- who knows? In any case, he left his resources in the hands of three trusted individuals. To one he left a great deal of money, to another he left property, and to the last, he left his collection of art and antiques. To each he said, "Increase my value. Invest, develop, sell -- do whatever seems best to you. Whenever I return, if you have done well, I will repay you in ways you cannot imagine."

Years past and with them any expectation that the businessman would return. Then one day, to the surprise of everyone, he reappeared looking hale and hearty. He called his friends together and asked for their reports. The first said, "I invested all you gave me in stocks, bonds, and new business ventures. You were wealthy when you left but now you are exceedingly so." The businessman praised his ingenuity and resourcefulness and gave him authority, second only to his own, in his organization.

The second reported, "I took your real estate and divided it into portions. In your name I built housing for the poor, set up hospitals for the underprivileged, and created open space for all to love and enjoy. Your reputation as a humanitarian in this country has grown beyond all expectations." Overjoyed, the businessman made his friend chairman of his foundation promoting humanitarian causes throughout the world.

The third, however, seemed less than enthusiastic. "I knew you were a self-made man and took advantage of whatever opportunities you had in life. But I decided worked that if I sold your property and invested the proceeds, I could have made a mistake and lost it all. So, I locked them up in a vault and waited for you to come back." To this man the businessman said, "I gave you complete freedom with my resources -- you could have done incredible things. Instead, you've done virtually nothing because you were afraid to try."

The moral of the story is, it's not so much what we have as what we do with it that counts. Meaning is not so much discovered as it is created. The question of life's significance is best answered by acting significantly. On January 20, 2009, we will inaugurate President who has challenged us to do just that. Everything we do, from the smallest daily task to saving a life, is filled with potential. One might seem more dramatic than the other, but it all matters.

(Creative Commons image by Moyan Brenn via Fkickr)