Archives for July 2019

“The Book of Joy” – Conversations between the Dahli Lama & Desmond Tutu

July 31, 2019 by admin Leave a Comment

“The Book of Joy” – Conversations between the Dali Lama & Desmond Tutu

My friend attempted to console a close relative who lost his daughter to cancer, at the age of 45. She left behind a loving husband and two wonderful children, 8 & 12. She was beautiful, talented, successful, caring, and a host of other superlatives that we wish upon our children. She was a mirror image of her parents.

Ironically, her father sent my friend the “Book of Joy” at the onset of his daughter’s struggle with cancer. The copy sent was underlined, with comments in the margins, stressing that “Joy” does not come from money, possessions, fame. Or talent. (The father was worth hundreds of millions, had homes on both coasts, and in the mountains, furnished with tasteful antiques, along with the best cars, and an airplane.)

All of that stuff could not provide the solace he was seeking about his daughter’s future.

Both, The Dali Lama and the Archbishop agreed that “Joy” does not come from fortune or fame, or any other secular or tangible stuff. They differed on the answer to “What dreams may come when we shed this mortal coil?” The Dali Lama’s answer to the essence of our existence lies within each person. Through contemplation and reincarnation. A person constantly refines himself, approaching, but never achieving perfection. That asymptotical process is based on self-reliance and mental focus. A process the father practiced all his life.

The father was very intelligent and well educated. He lived all of his life based solely on self-reliance. There wasn’t much time or room to consider a higher power outside of himself. But now, all his fortune, status, influence, and solutions were worthless. (His wife confided that all he does is sit in a chair, and cry.) So, he doubted the value of his congruity to the Dali Lama’s self-reliance philosophy.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu provided an expanded Christian response, based on C. S. Lewis’ observation: “We don’t have a soul. We are a soul. We have a body.”

The Redemptive Cross insured that everyone’s soul will enjoy the companionship of God’s Peace & Joy, forever – “No more death, nor pain, nor tears.” God’s unilateral, unconditional mercy, love, and forgiveness was spoken by Christ, from the Cross: “Father forgive them (His Jewish accusers and Roman executioners), for they know not what they do.” My friend thought that the father sent him the book to confirm those facts.

So, my friend sent a reassuring letter that all God’s children are the beneficiaries of God’s unconditional love, because all enjoy the welcoming embrace, of the outstretched arms, of the forgiveness, of the Redemptive Cross, equally. If she believed that the above statements are immutable and true. Then, his daughter will witness the Majestic Creator’s Power & Wisdom, the Loving Redeemer’s Mercy & Love, and the Holy Spirit’s Peace & Joy, forever.

So, we do not say “Good-Bye”, but merely “Auf Wiedersehen” – for all with belief in Christ will meet again.

My friend received a thank you letter after he sent “Reflections at Time of Passing”, upon the daughter’s passing. (The father no longer sits & cries.)

A Daughter’s Wild Ride – Beyond All Odd’s

July 31, 2019 by admin Leave a Comment

A Daughter’s Wild Ride – Beyond All Odd’s

When my fiend was a Vice President of the State’s largest Bank, a Senior Vice President advised him, “It’s not what you expect. It’s what you inspect. What you expect will be ignored, and trusted people will break your heart. What you inspect will get done, often exceeding your expectations.” My friend didn’t realize that, that sage management mantra also applies to a father and his family. 30 years ago, my friend experienced first-hand confirmation of that mantra’s wisdom when his daughter got her driver’s license.

His daughter was an exemplary child. As an infant, she was happy and obedient. During grade school, she did her homework, got good grades, and played well with others. She blossomed as a teenager. Her high school grades were at the top of her class. She was the Editor of the school newspaper, and excelled at tennis, reaching the State Semi-Finals Doubles Championship. And, she was no nerd, popular with boys and girls alike. Oh. She helped her mother with household chores, and baby-sat her younger brothers. Really.

So, my friend didn’t hesitate when his daughter asked to drive the family station wagon to her friend’s house, just a week after she got her driver’s license. A bunch of her friends were planning to see a Music Festival, downtown, at the lakefront, about 20 miles from their suburb.

My friend said, “You can take the car, under One Condition: You can only drive to your friend’s home. You Absolutely Cannot drive the car with any passengers inside. It would be too distracting, especially driving on the expressway. You could get into an accident, and someone could get injured. Just drive the car to & from your friend’s home, alone.” “Absolutely dad. You can trust me.” she said, as his daughter took the keys and drove off.

Several hours later, my friend’s wife said, “You know. It would be fun to go downtown and see that Music Festival. There are all kinds of bands. Some play that Old-Time, Rock & Roll. Who knows? We might even dance? Let’s go.” So, they got into their car and headed downtown.

The expressway to downtown was busy. My friend was extra cautious as he merged into the speeding traffic. A few moments later, his wife said, “That’s our family station wagon in front of us.” My friend replied, “It can’t be. That car is packed with kids. There’s nothing but elbows & asses pressed against the back window. I clearly told her that she couldn’t drive with any passengers, especially on the expressway.” His wife simply said, “Look at the license plate. That’s our station wagon.”

(There must be a “Special Squad of Guardian Angels” assigned to parents with teenagers. That’s the Only Rational Explanation for a parent’s car to merge directly behind their daughter’s car, which left hours earlier, while thousands of cars were passing by the ONLY entrance ramp her parents would take to the expressway downtown. The odds of that happening are beyond calculation.)

Just then, someone in the station wagon must have told his daughter that her dad was in the car behind her. There was only a nano-second between my friend realizing that it was indeed the family station wagon in front of him, and his daughter making a very bad decision. She stepped on the gas and sped away.

Her betrayal and reckless decision enraged my friend. All reason left his mind. Only the rage of a wounded animal was pulsating through his body. The “Chase” was on. He punched the gas, and was passing cars left & right. Nascar rivers would’ve flinch. The “Chase Scenes” in the “Blues Brothers” and “French Connection” movies seemed like a “Soap Box Derby” in comparison. My friend’s wife was praying. Then, the daughter made a desperate escape move: she swerved to the right, across 2 lanes of traffic, onto an exit ramp to a city street. The kids in the station wagon saw her dad’s car speed by the exit ramp. Their collective sigh of relief rivaled a convict’s, last minute Governor’s Pardon call.

Imagine their stunned disbelief, seeing her father, waiting for them across the side-street intersection, where they stopped for a “Red Light”. They could not ignore him, standing in the middle of the street, motioning for them to pull over to the curb. The kids got out of the station wagon as her father approached the car. He looked directly into his daughter’s eyes, and said, “Give me the keys. Lock the doors. Get into the car with your mother. The rest of you can call your parents, or take that Bus to the festival. Have fun.”

Many lessons were learned that day. The Primary Irrefutable one was: “You need to inspect what you expect to happen, to get the desired results, or you will be ignored, and broken-hearted.”

And there is a “Special Squad of Guardian Angels’ assigned to parents of teenagers

A Family’s Enduring Friendship with a Stranger.

July 31, 2019 by admin Leave a Comment

A Family’s Enduring Friendship with a Stranger.

Forty years ago, my friend got a phone call from a stranger about a week before Christmas. The stranger said that he played “Santa” for his next-door neighbor’s kids. Her kids have grown, and there is no need for “Santa” anymore. Your neighbor thought that your younger kids might like “Santa” to visit their home. My friend replied that he wanted to check with his neighbor, and then call him back.

The neighbor said that he was a phenomenal “Santa”. He would call a few days before Christmas, and ask about things for a “Naughty & Nice” list. Things that the kids thought no one knew about. He also asked that one gift for each person would be put into a large, plastic, garbage bag, which would be placed outside, behind the shrubs, near the front door. He would put that bag inside his white cloth Santa sack of gifts. Her kids loved him.

When my friend called “Santa” back, he was given the same set of instructions that his neighbor gave him. My friend asked what he charged for doing this. “Santa” replied, “Nothing”. He explained that his wife died, and his children were grown and gone. He just wanted to make one family happy at Christmas. My friend asked, “But what about celebrating Christmas with your other relatives and friends?” “Santa” said that he was Jewish.

My friend said, “Please come, and thanked him profusely. When the door-bell rang on Christmas Eve and my friend opened the front door, with his wife & kids next to him, there stood in the doorway a magnificent, jolly, “Santa” bellowing, “Ho. Ho. Ho. Merry Christmas”, as he walked into their home with a large, white sack on his back. (He made the Santa in the “Miracle on 34^th Street” look like an imposter.) Time stood still for a moment. Then, everyone excitedly welcomed “Santa’ into their Living Room, where my friend gestured for “Santa” to sit in in the large, comfortable wing-chair, by the grandfather clock. The excitement in the room was palpable.

Dad was first to sit on “Santa’s” lap. The kids squealed in delight when “Santa” told dad about a “Naughty” thing he did last year. And when “Santa said that dad was nice most of the time, his wife laughed a bit too loud, but “Santa” gave dad a gift that he said he always wanted. And so it went throughout the evening – laughs & smiles – gifts & gratitude – hugs & kisses. It was a Christmas Eve like no other. When the sack was empty, “Santa” stood, and said, “Ho. Ho. Ho. Merry Christmas” as he walked to the door. (My friend handed “Santa” an envelope with a “Gift” for whomever “Santa” chose.) Their eyes met. Nothing was said. But both men parted with lighter hearts.

And so it went, year after year. As the family grew with 2 more children, “Santa” was always spot-ion with his “Naught & Nice” list, much to the delight of everyone, but the person on “Santa’s” lap. Until the phone rang a month before Christmas, and “Santa” told my friend that his company transferred him to a city 1,000 miles away. “Santa” couldn’t come to his home that Christmas Eve, or ever again. The silence seemed like an eternity before my friend said, “Good luck. You brought more joy to our home than you can imagine. You are a kind & loving man. I hope my children become like you. God Bless.” There were several sobs, before the phone “clicked”.

The mood at the family dinner table that night was like a friend had died. Yet, “Santa” was a stranger. No one ever saw his “real” face. No one knew his name. Yet, every Christmas Eve, “Santa” brought a “Gift” to the family that couldn’t fit into his large, white, cloth sack. Every Christmas Eve since then, was fine, but missing something.

One Autumn day, my friend was walking through a restaurant, when he heard someone call out his name. He turned, but didn’t recognize anyone. “It’s me. Santa.” It was the first time that my friend saw “Santa’s” real face. They talked for a while, catching up on what happened since “Santa” left. Then my friend asked if “Santa” could come to his home for Christmas Eve. There was an awkward silence. My friend continued, “My wife’s mother had immensely enjoyed “Santa’s” visits. However, her health was failing after her 2nd heart valve replacement. This might be her last Christmas. “Santa” nodded. He would need the usual information about everyone there.

My friend’s wife couldn’t contain herself. She was like a giddy school girl. Her mother shared her glee. They both got on the phone Her mother inviting her sons. His wife inviting neighbors from previous Christmas Eves. The list of “Naughty & Nice” would boggle Einstein’s mind. When the door bell rang on Christmas Eve, the house full of family & friends rushed to the front door, like “Storming the Bastille”.

My friend composed himself, and quieted the mob. But, when the front door opened, all hell broke loose, and you could barely hear “Santa” say, “Ho. Ho. Ho. Merry Christmas.” My friend’s Mother-in-Law was the first to sit on “Santa’s” lap. There was nothing “Naughty” for “Santa” to tell her.

Instead, “Santa” said, “You are the most remarkable person to ever sit on my lap. Fifteen years ago, you had the courage to survive the experimental “Pig-Valve” replacement heart surgery. Then 5 years ago, you gracefully endured a 2^nd heart valve replacement surgery, as the 1^st valve was tearing away from your heart. I cannot give you a better gift, then being surrounded by your 3 children, 4 grandchildren, and a roomful of genuine friends who wish you, “Merry Christmas”.

The room erupted with a joyous “Merry Christmas” that rivaled the heavens & shepherds singing at the 1^st Christmas, in Bethlehem. The Rockefeller Center “Tree Lighting Ceremony” sucks by comparison.

It took hours for everyone to sit on “Santa’s” lap. One neighbor had tears rolling down his cheeks when “Santa” told him that he would be “Retiring” soon. And, because he was a “Scotsman”, he would enjoy playing St. Andrews in the summer. The neighbor was flabbergasted. And so it went for the rest of the night, until “Santa” told everyone their “Naughty & Nice” story, and gave them a gift. They treasured “Santa” more than their gift.

“Santa” kissed my friend’s mother-in-law on the cheek when he left. She died a week later. Perhaps, St. Peter was wearing a “Santa” outfit when he welcomed her into heaven.

My friend never had a better friend than that “stranger”.

Being a Hero – 75 & 50 Years Ago, and Today

July 1, 2019 by admin Leave a Comment

Being a Hero – 75 & 50 Years Ago, and Today

My friend reflected on being a Hero, 75 & 50 years ago, and today.

Surprisingly, the common denominator from those days to this is the same: Sacrifice. “Sacrifice” does NOT mean Loss. “Sacrifice come from 2-Latin words: Sacri Faciam _ “To make Holy.” The death of those young men 75 years ago was holy. The courage of Ed Freeman 50 years ago was holy. The kindness of my friend today was holy. ALL of them were also was an Acts of Love.

The media did cover the 75^th anniversary of D-Day: the coordination of a million men: pilots, sailors, infantry, all necessary to land tens of thousands of men, on the beaches of Normandy, France to begin the defeat of the Nazis. That was Western Civilization’s Finest Hour. It was a day of the sacrifice of thousands of young men lives.

Lives that believed in something greater than themselves: Freedom. Freedom for their wives & children and friends & strangers to experience the Joy of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Freedom to express their Faith and their political views, Freedom to live and work, limited only by their God given talents, education, and ambition. Thousands of young men died that day, but not in vain. They sacrificed their lives to give us the Freedom that we enjoy today.

50 years ago, a 19-year-old kid was critically wounded and dying in the jungle in the Ia Drang Valley, 11/14/1965, LZ X-ray, Vietnam. His infantry unit is outnumbered 8 to 1, and the enemy fire was so intense, from 100 to 200 yards away, that his own Infantry Commander had ordered ALL the MediVac helicopters to stop coming in.

He’s lying there, listening to the enemy machine guns, and knows that he is not getting out. His family is half way around the world and will never see him again. Then, over the machine gun blasts, he hears the sound of a helicopter, and looks up to see an Unarmed Huey. It doesn’t seem real because there were no MediVac markings are on it. It’s flying directly into the machine gun fire.

Ed Freeman is coming for him. Ed is not MediVac, who were ordered to leave. It’s not his job, but Ed is coming anyway. Ed drops the Huey in, and sits there in the machine gun fire, as 3 soldiers are loaded on board. Then, he flies them up and out to the doctors and nurses. Ed kept coming back, 13 more times, taking the 19-year-old kid and 30 other soldiers out, who would have been slaughtered.

Medal of Honor recipient, Ed Freeman, died on June 25^th, 2009 at age 80, in Boise ID. Ed is a Hero, deserving monumental admiration. But we didn’t hear a word about Ed’s death, or life.

However, reporters wrote 24/7 breathless homage when Michael Jackson died. By comparison, Michael Jackson seems small and silly – a hallogram of hoopla. In the end, the icon of fame and fortune is reduced to vacuous vanity and the remnant of glitter.

Ed Freeman rests in the palm of God’s hand, in the hearts of the families whose loved ones he saved, and in the souls of those in which virtue matters. Ed Freeman loved others, as God had loved him. Ed cherished values that the Secular Culture and Media cannot imagine.

Recently, my friend was broke, but gave a stranger at Mc D’s, $5 bucks (the only money he had for the day), so that the stranger’s kids could have breakfast. (For all the details, please refer to the “Most Popular” Blog Post listed on this website’s Home Page.)

It would serve us well to celebrate the sacrifice of the 75^th Anniversary of D-Day, the courage of Ed Freeman 50 years ago, and the recent kindness of my friend to a stranger. Be a Hero. Your sacrifice will make a difference to someone, today.