Over the last century, our country, and countries across the globe, have made fantastic strides in providing infrastructure. Roads are built by governments; safe potable water is distributed in just about every town across America; refuse is collected and deposited in consolidated landfills; communication is transmitted instantly, worldwide, and electricity is delivered to every household in a modern civilization. This has provided a great deal of comfort in our daily lives.

Without so much as a thought, we can flip a switch, and turn on a light in a dark room, operate this fancy computer I get to use on a daily basis, and charge up the ipod, and all manner of portable appliances we have become dependent upon in our daily lives. When we are thirsty, or need to wash our clothes, the turn of a faucet handle will provide a seemingly unending supply of fresh water, and almost if by magic, the things we find no longer useful in our lives, can be put in the trash bin to go off to who knows where … but it isn’t here, and that is the important part … or is it?

When I began considering the massive integration and collective cooperation we have as a society, the geek in me began to see subtle flaws in its implementation; then the more I dwelt on the issue, the more important these flaws became, until I can no longer take anything for granted; danger, grave danger, lies everywhere, and we as a society are blind to its inherent flaws. Sure, I like a nice hot shower, probably more than most folks; to get that shower though, I have to rely upon lots of other people; people I don’t know, to do things that quite frankly, I don’t understand. The public works people maintain the public water supply, and actually keep the city’s waterline in proper working order; send off water samples for tests, treat waste water, and scope out new well sites among the vast number of other things they are required to do, to actually get water out of the ground, or reservoir, and out to the populous. The electrical workers have to maintain not only the power generation plant, but they also have to install and maintain tens of thousands of miles of high power electrical lines to get the power out to the customer. Power generation facilities across the continent are connected in very complex and highly volatile network, and require tens of thousands of people, on a daily basis, just to keep it working. Our trash is collected and consolidated into huge holes in the ground, designed to hide the excess of our ways. In essence, we just live our daily lives and use these things without a thought about any problem or potential problem that might exist in the system … and that is a very dangerous situation to be in.

Last week when the news broke, about the earthquake in Haiti, we were complacent … oh, another earthquake in a place most of us had never given a second thought to … but when the gravity of the disaster began to become real for us (thanks Anderson Cooper), we realized that this was much more than your run of the mill earthquake; if there even is such a thing. No, this was much worse, this was the complete collapse of an entire society of people; an entire country is in turmoil, and despair is the nicest thing they have going for them. This was devastation like we have never seen before. Outside of collapsed schools, homes, businesses, and government buildings, were throngs of people, hundreds of thousands of people, displaced. There are perhaps, 2 million people or more, whose daily lives are affected to a degree that we can barely fathom, yet here we sit oblivious to the dangers our own highly integrated society has built for itself; oblivious to the havoc we would face if we were to have our own infrastructure-quake.

Consider that you are reading this, likely on a computer, powered by electricity, generated by a power plant, that runs on uranium, coal, oil or gas. What happens when there is a failure at a power plant? Can’t happen? Think again … across this country, there have been numerous catastrophic plant failures, explosions at solar power facilities, core leaks at nuclear plants, massive turbine failures, collapse of steam pipes, and wind and ice damage to transmission lines … and that was only in the last couple of years. It doesn’t seem that bad though, particularly if you were not one of those affected, without power for weeks on end. As any computer expert would tell you, in order to have a secure and reliable system, you must have redundancy … lots of redundancy. Look at how NASA works … there are redundancy protocols, for redundant systems, for redundant protocols, for backup systems, for backup systems… and yet they still have a track record of having catastrophic, irrecoverable, problems.

That hot shower we take for granted, would be of little concern for those who rely upon a public water source, were that source to become contaminated or unavailable. Consider that, in a town my size, as many as 50,000 people could be left without so much as drinking water, much less bathing water, if a single system goes down. The idea that bigger is better, and consolidation for the common good, is of little concern if you are thirsty.

What we can learn here, is that, smaller, more localized handling of the needs of people will provide a much better solution than massive projects to provide for the masses. Multiple, neighborhood water supplies, will ensure that, in the event of a single failure, the least number of people are affected. If one or more wells stop functioning, there may be a lower capacity of the remaining supplies, but the lower supply is a better alternative than no supply. Electricity generation is another very similar situation… If we have more plants, much smaller than the gazillion megawatt plants of today, spread out in more communities, with shorter transmission distances, the failure of one in a huge network, will be much less problematic than the failure of a single plant providing power to an entire quadrant of the country.

The whole point is, when you put all of your proverbial eggs into a single basket, no matter how big and strong that basket might be, there is a flaw in that basket, a flaw you don’t see … and grandma knew that… thats why she always carried two baskets to the hen house, and why she went twice a day. If one of the baskets failed, she didn’t lose all of the eggs. As a populace, it would do us well to remember that … we need to have many baskets in order to have the least collateral damage in the event one fails. If you learn nothing from the plight of the Haitians, learn this one thing … almost always, a little something is better than no something … and right now, the basket that contained the Haitian infrastructure, has been dropped to the ground by an earthquake nobody predicted.

There are times in life to where people are often faced with having to stand up for their beliefs and values, as opposed to saying what is politically correct, or guaranteed to get you a promotion at work, or even winning a Miss USA Pageant.

Carrie Prejean’s answer may or may not reflect my feelings on the issue of gay marriage, however, I am so proud of her for answering that question based on her core beliefs, and not compromising her faith or beliefs in the name of some beauty pageant.

In America we have been afforded the First Amendment Right to freedom of speech, and no one should ever be excoriated for exercising those rights, or for being a person of honesty and integrity.

Now, on the flip side, while this guy Perez Hilton also had the right to ask a loaded question, I am not sure as to why it came as such a surprise to him when he did not get the answer that he was hoping for. Then, for him to go on a tirade against this young lady, is just another example of how the far left side of our culture often handles differences of beliefs.

If he were honest with himself, he would then realize that he was setting her (and potentially himself) up for failure, then to be as pretentious as thinking he can tell her what she should have said, is “really” unbelievable. I would like to ask him, why did he ask her that question, if he (obviously) could not handle the answer, or an opposing point of view?

From my point of view, Perez Hilton has inadvertently brought a negative light to his cause, and has given Carrie Prejean a national spotlight to further go one and speak on behalf of her beliefs.

I really do wish that the people out on the fringes could learn to articulate their arguments, and disagreements in an intellectual and philosophical way, as opposed to resorting to slander and name calling.

I would also like to say Kudos to Carrie Prejean for not selling out in the name of some pageant.

I hope that she will be a positive role model for future contenders.

Mark

Ok, as funny as it sounds, you should really be happy that today is tax day, not because you have to finally reconcile your tax liabilities, but because today marks the day when you can stop worrying about completing your returns. Of course if you are one of the millions who file extensions every year, you are only prolonging the inevitable. Perhaps you should get with the rest of the population that dutifully files by April 15 each year and then take a few months off from worrying about tax deadlines.

I am fortunate. I live in a state where Tax Freedom Day comes a week earlier than calculated by the Tax Foundation. Florida is one of the few states where the residents enjoy no state income taxes. We do however have a sales tax, but then every state except Delaware has those.

Its not that I live under a rock and think public services are done out of the goodness of the hearts of people. Wouldn’t it be great if they were? The problem I have with taxation is that seldom does the taxpayer have any input on how much they should pay and what services they should get for their money.

I read with interest how our local city was able to improve its ISO rating by spending some money in infrastructure, equipment and personel. At first glance this is great, a lower ISO rating allows residents to enjoy a lower premium for their fire insurance. A quick check on my own insurance rates don’t have me saving anything, yet the increased tax burden for more personel and equipment (some of which is obsolete), is there to obtain this lower rating. I attribute it to our government doing what government does best, and that is spending money.

But today is a good day for other reasons as well. Today marks the 62nd anniversary of the breaking down of the color barrier in Major League Baseball. Jackie Robinson, at age 28, in a time when racial segregation was in full swing, became the very first African American to play for a major league baseball team when he stepped onto Ebbets Field in Brooklyn to play for the Dodgers. Other notable events that happened on this day in history are: The 1945 liberation of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camps in Nazi Germany and in 1850 San Francisco was incorporated. However, while you are still reeling from the woes of paying your 1040 taxes, things could be much worse. On this day in 1912, 1500 people died in a tragic event that could never happen, when the Titanic sank in the North Atlantic after hitting an iceberg and on April 15, 1851, President Lincoln called out Union troops and declared a state of insurrection after an attack on Fort Sumter in South Carolina.

So while you trek to the post office with barely enough time to make it before the doors lock at closing time, consider yourself fortunate to not have experienced any one of the many events that surely are significantly more tragic than writing a check to Uncle Sam. Be thankful for the ability to take another breath, and remember those around you whose tax burden has decreased, not because of loopholes, but because of loss of income. I use this day to remind me how fortunate I am to live in Florida and in these United States.

In a fast paced society, we often view holidays as a time to rest from the grind of work and the demands of people. We find ourselves looking to capitalize on a day off from work to relax. Often times without thought we move through these days without a care of why or how these days became the symbolic remembrance days they are currently.

Today is Friday, April 10, 2009. Most people in the workplace look forward to this day as another day off, an early beginning to a long weekend or the day when they can get something done that isn’t already bogged down with other responsibilities. But Good Friday is so much more than that.

For the better part of the last 2000 years, the Christian religion has observed the Friday before Easter as Good Friday. The origins of Good Friday are mostly unclear, but it is apparent that early Christians brought together in remembrance of the crucifixion of Jesus began observing Good Friday annually on the day of His death on the cross. This tradition became entrenched in the Christian religion and today we observe it annually 3 days before Easter. The reasons being the same as the early Church, but without the same knowledge of the why behind the day.

I’ve often heard people say, “Have a Happy Good Friday”, and while I appreciate the genuine nature of their salutation, I also cringe when I consider the reason for the day. Certainly this day holds more meaning than another day off from work, it is the day set aside so many years ago, by people we have no remembrance of, to observe the somber occasion of the crucifixion. Certainly this day is not a day to be happy about, unless perhaps you don’t hold Jesus in the high esteem that the Christian faith does. Even then, when we have other days of the year where we commemorate the sacrifice of people for the good of the world, seldom do we observe those days as a happy occasion.

Now that we know why we have Good Friday, you don’t have to go about with a somber face throughout the day, Instead you should take the appropriate time to reflect on the sacrifice made so many years ago, in order to save a Godless world.

Remember, even though the occasion isn’t celebratory in nature, on the third day Easter comes, and that is indeed a day of celebration, a time for commemoration and a time to rejoice the resurrection following the tragic events on this day in 33AD. So while I dare not bid you “Happy Good Friday”, I do heartily wish you a Blessed day on this holiest of days.

Let’s share the word, and live in peace. 

There is one thing that I am sure of…the good times will return again.

As many good times don’t last forever, neither does the bad times.

We must be willing to except the good times with the bad, and always remain optimistic through it all.

Mark

People say mean things, how we deal with them is what separates us. Several things I have learned and try to practice on a daily basis allows me to keep my sanity, dwell on the positive and positively influence those around me. That list, although not inclusive, is as follows:

• Don’t get angry, you are merely reinforcing their actions
• Don’t retaliate or rebuke them, it only fuels their anger
• Don’t hide from the truth, it hurts sometimes, but it is the truth
• Everyone has prejudices, theirs happens to be against you
• Don’t allow the offender to steal your joy
• Agree with them, they won’t know how to act
• Don’t try and change their mind, it was made up long ago
• Accept that you cannot please them
• Do be kind to them, they will leave you alone

I recall a saying my grandfather used regularly. “Son, don’t let ‘em get your goat!” I used to think he was talking about a real goat, something tangible, but I realized later that he was talking about my emotions. He was telling me to not allow others to influence my emotions in a bad way. It was several years after his death before I understood exactly what he was talking about. Now some 30 years later, I can reflect upon those words and offer the only bit of advice I know how. If someone tries to get your goat, it is best you not let them know when they are close to it, else they will continue. If they get too close, move it. Only you can choose how to react to a situation. Mastery is difficult, and you will never get it perfect without a lobotomy, but over time it becomes easier.

It is your joy, don’t let someone steal it from you!

There are places I remember, though some have changed. Some forever, not for better indeed.

While visiting with family over Thanksgiving, this wonderful song kept resonating within me. While it has always, always been what I believe may be my all time favorte Beatles song, the words are quite profound if you stop to listen to them.

Looking around at the farm I grew up on, things have certainly changed forever, but for better I asked? My Grandfather, God rest his soul, passed on some 17 years ago. While I personally had mixed feelings about his passing due to some events in my childhood, the love affair between my Grandmother & Grandfather is something I still palpable. The farm is quite rundown now, and the house they built together, literally coming apart at the seems. My Grandmother, had been devout in her desire to stay til the end in that house. Thus far, we have honored her wish, though now her mental faculties have her believing she is somewhere other than home, where the people treat her nice enough, or so she tells me, as I wink at my Aunts, Uncle & Mother. She somehow, always remembers who I am & what is going on in my world. I will be eternally grateful to God for that.

Inversely, I look at my niece, who is just 3, but has it all, literally. Beauty, brains, b*lls, thirst for knowledge, musically gifted & enthusiasm. How she melts my heart when her eyes light up at the sight of me, says I love you, buttons every button on my coat before I walk out the door or simply can’t move her feet quick enough to make it to me.

And suddenly I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Realizing I’m caught somewhere in between the two of their worlds. Some days I feel as if I have all the same exhuberence as my niece, other days I feel as if I am lost or trapped within myself like my Grandmother, unable to effectively communicate what lies inside to some, even making some uncomfortable with my attempts they fail to understand. I often sit & think about them. I know I’ll never lose affection, In my life……

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ym0×3vTw6yc

A thought occured to me last evening.

I was visiting a local restaurant and as with any Friday night, there were dozens of young people crammed into the dining room. Each seemed to be paired in groups of four, two guys and two gals. While there is nothing remarkable about this in particular, what did strike me as a significant change from the many years ago I would have done the same, is the number of mixed ethnicity couples. Of course I have no way of knowing whether any of the people were a couple as I didn’t take the time to observe them for clues about their romantic tendencies, but the fact they were paired as they were would lend to that perception.

I thought about this for a few minutes and I had to ask myself why I found it unusual. Had I been brought up to believe such things were not supposed to take place? Of course I hadn’t, and after some considerable thought, I believe I may have found an answer.

During my childhood and young adult life, the prospect of seeing couples of differing skin color was unusual, I can only remember two and they weren’t treated favorably by most people of the time. Since our reactions to events in life are mostly a learned response, perhaps I learned from an early age that mixed couples are treated harshly by society and as such, they are to be avoided. Maybe that is why I found this unusual and maybe that trend of ostracizing those who appear differently than ourselves is changing.

I find this refreshing and I take great pride in the fact that so many of our youth have the ability to see beyond differences that would have been frowned upon even 20 years ago. I challenge you to put away preconceived ideas and embrace a society that appears to be learning from our past failures.

The year was 1976. As a young boy of 11 years old, I surprisingly had few friends. It wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t because people didn’t like me … it was because of the rural location in which I lived. The closest “friends” were nearly 1/2 mile away and with all of the responsibilities I had on a daily basis, there was very little time to make friends.

Late one afternoon, I was approached by a young lady named Cindy, who asked if I would like to go to church. I knew what church was, I had been to church regularly in the town I used to live in some 3 years earlier. I jumped at the opportunity to have interaction with other kids my age in a setting other than a classroom. Thus began the saga.

On Sunday mornings for the next several months, I was picked up regularly for church. Frank, the youth pastor and husband of Cindy, was soft spoken and personable. His demeanor was quiet and he seemed to be the kind of guy that everyone liked. It was no wonder that I had taken to him and Cindy. It wasn’t long until I was spending weekends with them and then in 1978, I spent the entire summer with Frank. Cindy had went out of town and Frank was alone. At the same time, my family was taking a vacation to Disney. I elected to forgo the Disney trip and stay with Frank.

I had the run of the place. I had whatever I wanted to eat, listened to the radio, played records, rocked in the rocking chair and even decided to cut the grass a couple of times. Frank was a true friend to a young boy, and I felt the need to gain approval. After several days with Frank, all I needed was just a hint from him as to what he wanted me to do and I would do it willingly and with a fervor you rarely see from a boy of 13. I sought his approval and he gave it. The symbiotic relationship we had forged seemed as if it would never end.

Of course, as all things do, there was a reconing. It wasn’t Frank’s fault, in fact I don’t really know whose fault it was. There was enough blame to go around I am sure, but suffice to say, by 1982 our friendship was tenuous. I was interested in girls, and they were interested in me. I had a job, a car and due to some family problems, became what is commonly termed as an “emancipated minor” at the tender age of 16. For the next several years, I had only casual contact with Frank and Cindy. The brief encounter at the store, passing on the highway, nothing extraordinary.

However, as time passed I began to consider our past relationship and once again rekindled it summer in 1991. By this time I was married and had children of my own, and it was my own children who were becoming involved with Frank and Cindy. A local church was having Vacation Bible School and someone from the church came by and asked if my son would like to join them. He of course was elated … fun activities, playing with other children his age and gaining approval from other adults. Frank and Cindy were deeply involved with the childrens program and I was proud to have my own child involved. I had no idea how seriously the impact of my previous relationship with them had been, in fact, it wasn’t until last week that I realized just how much of an impact they had on my life.

I rarely see Frank and Cindy, but when I do, they are always the kind people they have proven to be in the years I was literally a part of their family. Now years later, I found myself sitting in an auditorium at a local church, reading from my bible. This bible isn’t of any particular importance, any other bible would be the same, except, I finally realized why it was important to me. It wasn’t the faith that it inspires, as the words printed inside inspire, not the binding. It wasn’t that I have had this particular bible for 30 years. What makes this bible important to me is the inscription written so many years ago by a young couple seeking to help others. Written from the heart on the inside cover is “We Love You”, and this past week, I finally realized what that meant to me. The impact that Frank and Cindy have made on my life will leave an indelible mark and for that, I am truely blessed to have had a true friend in them. I will continue to cherish the bible they gave me as a young boy and I hope to be able to continue the legacy they started by being a true friend to another child.

As some of you may know, I am a huge proponent of performing community service, most notably with civic and non-profit organizations, although I also work with the schools whenever I can. While I generally stay relatively busy, I always have time to squeeze in additional time to help those in need. It is something that gives me great pleasure and allows me to solidify friendships that I would have otherwise never had the opportunity to experience.

To understand what I mean, all you need do is look at a recent snapshot of my schedule. On Friday, besides the 9 hours I spent in the office, I also spent 7 hours volunteering for Kiwanis, on Saturday, while I didn’t have to work in the office, I did spend 8 hours at the American Legion. Monday was the slow day. After 9 hours in the office, it was off to the school to volunteer for 5 hours. Today, being election day, I found myself delivering folks to the polls so they may have an opportunity to cast their ballot in this historic election. I also spent an hour with Kiwanis and have another 5 hours of service scheduled for this evening. The rest of the week is relatively the same, 9 hours in the office, and 5 hours with the school, except on Thursday, that will grow to 7 hours at the school. Finally, on Friday am working with Columbia County Resources at our local fairgrounds to ensure everything goes smoothly. Hopefully on Saturday I will have time to devote to some work around the house.

If I were to tally my hours of service to others, I would probably reach 1000 hours of service per year. That is about 2 3/4 hours a day, 7 days a week, every day of the year. Many people don’t work that many hours a year on a job they are being paid for, much less at a task they are not being paid to complete. So the question is, “Why do I do it?” The reason is simple, and after some soul searching, I believe I have an answer. It may be suprising, it was when I discovered it, and it might lead to a better understanding of why you may or may not engage in volunteer service.

I am a firm believer that in everything we do, we do it for personal benefit. If you don’t believe this, then perhaps you should forget you read my thoughts. If you are ready to have your eyes opened, and truly wish to understand your own humanity, then perhaps you can try to absorb the concept without preconception. In a nutshell, I am selfish. In a perverted sense, everything I do for others, is a way to make me feel good. Regardless of whether I receive renumeration, adolation, accolades or simply a sense of self worth, every action I commit, is deeply rooted in my desire to feel good.

The reason I write this is that, if you aren’t as happy as you would like to be, the simple solution is to try and help make someone else happy. In the end, you will find that your own unhappiness will ebb away and true happiness will find you. Try it for a month, you have nothing to lose but apathy and unhappiness.

Early this morning, a strangeness overcame me when I awakened briefly. I remembered a childhood occurence as clearly as it had happened yesterday. The memory came from a time when I was 6 years old and we lived in a relatively quiet neighborhood. It was a time when you could allow your children to roam the neighborhood unsupervised … I had the reign of 10 neighborhood blocks. Of course at 6 it seemed like a huge area, something now I would look at as relatively small.

I had many friends, Mike and I were neighbors … best of friends … we would meet together and along with some other friends and play all sorts of childhood games. On the particular day in question, among the 5 or 6 of us gathered on the sidewalk, we began discussions of where we would play “hide and go seek”. I didn’t want to play at my house, because at my house there were just no good places to hide because I knew them all, and at age 6, you presume everyone else must know them too! We each had a vote and I voted to play at Mike’s house, after all, he had a big dog we just loved to play with.

Being there were several other kids there, obviously there was a differing of opinions. The concensus was that we should play at Jimmy’s house. At the time, I was not really happy about that prospect, you see, Jimmy along with his brothers and sister, lived in a house much like mine, except Jimmy’s parents weren’t like mine, in fact they weren’t like anyone’s parents in the neighborhood that I knew of, this fact would ultimatley give me my first encounter with child protective services … I of course expressed my objections to playing at Jimmy’s house, because in the words of a brutally honest 6 year old, Jimmy’s house was “junky”. Sure I had been there before, heck, I had been there many times before, and let me tell you, ”junky” was expressing the living conditions mildly.

Jimmy’s house was not well kept, although the back yard was hidden by a privacy fence, it was obvious these were not the neighbors you would like to have. The front yard had several old lawn mowers in various states of disrepair a car under the carport that didn’t operate and another on the side of the house. The grass however was kept up by a cobbled together push mower used by Jimmy’s older brother Chris. This meant of course that the “junky” house just had the grass cut, nothing else. Jimmy’s youngest brother was in diapers and those diapers frequently made their way into the yard as if by magic. I find it amazing, that even at this early time, while every other struggling parent in our neighborhood was using cloth diapers, Jimmy’s brother had disposables, and they got disposed of right in the front yard along with all sorts of other personal hygene products. I don’t know if they purposefully threw them out there or if they failed to pick up after the dogs dumped the trash can, either way, they were there, the flies were plentiful, and the smell was atrocious. Inside the house was no better, doors were off the hinges, windows were broken out and the dog had messed in the floor and had not been cleaned up. I could never imagine having to live in such squalor and filth, it was certainly not a place I wished to go play.

Then, like a thief in the night, Jimmy and his siblings disappeared, they weren’t abducted though, child protective services had come in and taken the children away, from the youngest to the oldest, all were moved to foster care. Of course “we” knew where they were, even if their parents didn’t, since the parents were not allowed to have contact with the kids, and we were, we found out where they lived. A mere 5 blocks from their old place of squalor.

I don’t know what happened to Jimmy and the rest of his family and I don’t know if they ever came “home”, but I do know that Jimmy took offense to my calling his house “junky”. The rest of the kids used a little more tact than I did, they didn’t express displeasure, even though I could tell from their expressions they knew I was right. I never played “hide and go seek” that day, because even though Jimmy wasn’t a bad kid, he did have a certain amount of pride, and he just couldn’t let my comments go unanswered.

I often wonder about Jimmy and the rest of the gang, where they are and what became of their lives. The queston “Did Jimmy ever go home” likely will never be answered for me. I can only pray that he is living better now than he did then.