Friday, June 26, 2009

Kids Hear The Darndest Things

Flash back to the summer of 2007.

It was a beautiful June evening. I was driving my three-year-old granddaughter Miranda home from that evening's Vacation Bible School at church. She had been in my class, and we had shared some fun that evening, and learned some good lessons about how God loves us.

It seemed like a good idea to try to reinforce the evening's lessons on the drive home.

As we drove down Gray Road, Miranda was looking towards the western sky, and noticed the beautiful multi-colored clouds glowing from the rays of the setting sun. "Grandpa, look at the pretty sky," she said.

"It is pretty," I replied, "And someday, when I die and go to heaven, I will get to see beautiful skies like that all the time."

It got very quiet in the back seat. Finally Miranda asked, "Grandpa, are you going to die?"

Uh-oh. Somehow this inspirational conversation had veered off into a dark place. When will I learn to choose my words more carefully around small children? Not soon enough, as you will soon see.

I don't think well under pressure (or most other times, either, for that matter). When I make quick decisions I usually regret them. This occasion would prove to be no exception. My brain was going into panic mode, trying to calculate, in the space of 5 seconds or so, how to reply to this innocent little girl in a way that would minimize her anxiety.

For lack of a better idea, I went with the old casual, matter-of-fact approach. I swear, before I said it, it sounded good in my head.

"Of course, honey," I said casually, "Everybody is going to die someday."

It got really quiet in the back seat again. I was hoping for a quick change of subject.

I still cringe inwardly when I recall what I heard next: the sound of Miranda's panicked little voice echoing from the back seat, "YOU MEAN WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE?"

Lord, just take me now, I thought to myself. Maybe I could get away on Southwest Airlines before I had to face my daughter, Miranda's mom.

I did my best to back-pedal, but there was no place to go. A hard truth was out of the bag, and it couldn't be denied. Three years old is a bit young to be thinking about mortality, but thanks to me, "Grandpa Death", Miranda had something new to worry about.

I tried to candy-coat it, talking about how young we were, and it would be a long, long, long time before any of us would be dying, and how dying is just part of life, and how, if we knew Jesus, we would see God and be in heaven when we died. I rambled all over the place, trying to do some damage control.

I sure wish there were times when God would just give us a do-over.

Finally we arrived at Miranda's home. I didn't know what to say to her mom Stephanie, my only daughter, my eldest child, who would most likely be choosing my nursing home someday, and with whom I had hoped to maintain a positive relationship.

For lack of a better idea, I didn't say anything. So far, every time I had opened my mouth, things had gotten worse. I decided to just shut up for a while.

The next evening, I thought I had better mention this incident to Stephanie, just in case little Miranda had remembered our conversation. So I called her, feeling quite humbled and penitent, and did my best to explain how I had inadvertently shattered her daughter's innocent ignorance about her own mortality. I went through the whole spiel about the VBS and the clouds and heaven and when I finally got done, Stephanie said, "So THAT'S where she got it."

Apparently the day had been filled with non-stop discussions of death, and how everybody is going to die, and when would the dog die, and did dogs go to heaven, and when are you going to die mommy, and on and on and on. If you have ever been a parent, I'm sure you can imagine what it must have been like.

My daughter, being a kind and merciful person, has forgiven me for being such a stupid grandpa. She knows I didn't mean to do it.

I have learned a valuable lesson. Be really careful what you say to young children, because they will always be listening to anything that you wish they had not heard. They may forget every wise thing you ever told them, but say something stupid one time, and 20 years later they'll be on a couch telling their therapist the story of how you traumatized their childhood.

In the future, I am going to play it safe and cop out whenever possible. If any of my grandchildren ever ask questions about sex, all they will get out of me is name, rank, serial number, and a story about storks and cabbage patches. I'm leaving the hard stuff for mom and dad.

* Note to Stephanie -- Should I live long enough to require nursing care, I would still prefer that quiet corner room with the lake view at the Shady Acres Rest Home.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Growing Up White

In the early 1960s, mom would take us kids to swim at a nearby beach, called Maywood Lake, on the southwest side of Indianapolis.

I was so young then that I don't remember a lot of details, but I always had fun there. There are vague impressions left in my memory: the smell of coconut oil, the warm sand, splashing in the waves, transistor radios blasting out the Beach Boys and the Ventures, kids making sand castles. It was an idyllic way to spend a summer, just me and my siblings whiling away the days at the beach with mom.

It was the summer of either 1964 or 1965 when we stopped going to Maywood Lake. "Mom, why can't we go swimming?" we asked. Mom told us the lake had closed. Nobody could go there anymore. Mom offered no explanation of why, and maybe I wouldn't have understood anyway.

When you're a kid, all you know is what is going on in your immediate little world. My world was my neighborhood. Up to the age of 10, I guess I just hadn't paid much attention to anything going on around the rest of the planet.

Some time afterward, I overhead my grandpa talking to my dad, complaining about the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and some of the businesses that had been affected by it. "He shut the place down," grandpa was telling dad.

"What place?" I interjected.

"Maywood Lake - he just shut the place down," grandpa replied, "He told me that he would close the place before he would let the government tell him that he had to let the colored in there."

That was my introduction to racism in America. It amazed me that a man would hate black people so much that he would rather go out of business than have black customers.

I started paying more attention to racial issues after that. I soon realized that a lot of people I knew really didn't like black folks one bit. Probably half the adults in my family were quite vocal about their fears of blacks "taking over the country." A lot of the kids in the neighborhood would make crude racial jokes, or derogatory comments about civil rights protesters. The "N-word" was frequently tossed around in casual conversations, and it seemed like someone was constantly coming up with new and crude racial jokes.

I had an acquaintance in my late teens who was related to some honcho in the Martinsville KKK. Once he brought me a really crude Klan "comic book" of rude, ignorant and hateful cartoons filled with all of the standard racial stereotypes of the day. He actually thought it was funny. I thought, How can people have so much hate in their hearts? And for no good reason?

I always admired the courage of the people who led the civil rights movement, because I knew they were up against some serious generationally-ingrained hatred and prejudice. I knew how bad white folks' attitudes were in Indiana. I could only imagine how much worse it was in the deep South.

So eighteen months ago, when Barack Obama was campaigning for the Democratic nomination, I would not have given him a snowball's chance in hell of ever being elected President. Whatever the campaign issues would become, I just could not believe that America would elect a black man to the highest office in the land. I grew up knowing too many people with too much irrational prejudice. I could not conceive how any black candidate could overcome such an enormous political handicap.

I knew that racial harmony had improved noticeably since the 1960s, but I assumed there was still a lot of tamped-down racial animosity that just wasn't as openly expressed as in the past. I reasoned that in the solitude of the voting booth, ingrained prejudices would ultimately hold sway.

Although I supported John McCain (reluctantly) and I am in staunch ideological opposition to President Obama's policies, I freely admit that I am happy to be wrong about the current extent of racism in America. With this election, we have turned a corner. To be sure, there are still some white people who will never see the light. There will always be some folks who carry darkness in their hearts.

But President Obama has proven, by his historic election victory, that our country is indeed moving past the era when we divided ourselves by race. Hopefully, we can continue to mature as a culture, and someday achieve a truly color-blind society.

A color-blind society with strong moral values, a culture of personal responsibility, a robust national defense policy, strict constitutionalist judges, healthy free-market capitalism, low taxes and limited government interference would be even better.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Down The Rabbit Hole

The worst economy since the great Depression?

What a bunch of typical deceptive left-wing crapola. (My apologies to readers who are sensitive to the use of uncouth grammar, but sometimes there is no substitute.)

No, this is not the worst economy since the great depression, but it is the worst economy since our last leftist president, Jimmy Carter, was in office.

We Americans have many things to be proud of, but our grasp of history is not one of them. We are lucky to remember what we had for breakfast, much less recall the political and economic events of recent decades.

We have had it so good, for so long – and have become so spoiled and so clueless – that I wonder sometimes if we have all gone brain dead.

So you think your life is rough? Feeling a little low today? Tough times got you down, Bubby? Well, let’s take a little misery index test:

Did you eat today?

Are you wearing clothes?

Do you live in a climate-controlled shelter?

Are there shoes on your feet?

Are you free to read what you want, think what you want, and speak your mind openly?

Then welcome to America, friend! Whatever challenges you are facing, you are among the richest 5% of people alive on this planet. (The appropriate response now would be to fall down on your knees and thank God for the privilege of living in a place like this.)

Now that we have put things in perspective, let’s take a stroll down memory lane.

When Ronald Reagan became president in 1981, he inherited an economy in shambles, and all the economic indicators looked much worse than anything President Obama has had to deal with. The economy was so bad, the press had to create a new word to describe it: stagflation. We had double-digit unemployment rates, a double-digit inflation rate, and double-digit interest rates.

Did President Reagan use this “crisis” as an opportunity to try to seize government control of the economy? Absolutely not! President Reagan believed in the power of free enterprise. He believed in the wisdom of limited government, and the ability of free people to create prosperity for themselves, and thereby, for the country as a whole.

His domestic agenda was simple: President Reagan cut taxes. He pushed through de-regulation of the energy and transportation systems. His goal was to reward entrepreneurs and allow people to keep more of the fruits of their labors. Thanks to Reaganomics, the economy went on a 20-year growth spurt, the longest period of prosperity in our history.

In foreign policy, President Reagan believed in peace through strength. He believed America was a great country that was destined to lead the world towards liberty. He built up the armed forces, especially the Navy, so that America could defend herself against any aggressor.

The American Left ridiculed him for his “Star Wars” missile defense proposals, but thanks to his foresight, we are continuing to develop a substantial, and successful, missile defense program, which is really coming in handy in this era of rogue terrorist states. If North Korea ever launches an ICBM towards our west coast, millions of Californians will owe their lives to Ronald Reagan.

Now let’s take a look at Obamanomics. Compared to the Reagan era, it is like we’ve fallen into a rabbit hole. President Obama says we need more government control.

The government needs to take over automobile companies and banks. We need the federal government in control of our health care system. We need to begin taxing “excessive” carbon use through Cap & Trade legislation. We need to raise gasoline taxes. We need to dictate what kinds of cars people can drive. We need to spend our way into “prosperity” by piling up trillions of dollars in debt that our children will never be able to repay.

President Obama’s foreign policy is even more disastrous. His groveling “world-wide apology” tours to Central America, Europe and the Middle East were the most embarrassing displays of appeasement in my lifetime. He is signaling to every tinhorn dictator on the planet that the USA will not be an advocate for liberty and human rights, because we don’t want to interfere with another nation’s business, however dirty that business may be.

Political prisoners of despotic states around the world have a new reason to weep.

And what about peace through strength?

For a man who can dump billions of dollars down the rat hole of government bailouts, without batting an eye, President Obama suddenly turns into Fred Mertz when it comes to the military budget.

So, Iran and North Korea are on the verge of ICBM capabilities? Well, let’s cut the missile defense budget. So, China is doubling the size of its navy? Let’s continue to cut back on ours. Under the Obama budget, every single sector of government spending is set to grow, except for defense.

One pesky detail that President Obama seems to have overlooked is the fact that our national defense is the federal government’s primary constitutional duty.

From where I sit, the future is looking pretty bleak. We have elected a president with no grasp of economic realities, no understanding of the dangers we face in the world, and have granted to him, via a Congress controlled by Democrats, almost unlimited power to reshape this country into whatever kind of socialist welfare state he can envision.

So, is this the worst economy since the Great Depression? No, not yet, but give it time. As President Obama likes to say, “We are just getting started.”

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Economic Facts of Life

When I was a boy, my grandpa spent a lot of time trying to teach me things. Sometimes I got tired of listening to him, because it seemed like he repeated himself so much. Now I realize he was just trying to emphasize the high points.

Grandpa was always saying things like:

"You don't get anything without working for it."

"The world doesn't owe you a living."

"An education is the only thing that nobody can ever take away from you."

"You have to be responsible for yourself."

"If you don't have the money to pay for it, make do without it."

"Pay yourself first - save 10 cents of every dollar you make."

Many of us have heard these nuggets of financial wisdom. Simplistic they may be, but they are powerful because they are true.

But I wonder, is there anyone left in America who still believes in them? Apparently no one in the American Left does. The Left tells us that the world does owe us a living, whether we work or not. We are not responsible for ourselves, but Nanny Government is. Can't afford to own a house? No problem, borrow as much as you can at a low interest rate to stimulate the economy. And yes, you can get something for nothing, but only if you vote for Democrats, because those evil greedy capitalistic Republicans don't want you to have anything unless you earn it.

With so many fragmented families and single-parent households, I wonder how many kids today have responsible grandparents around who can pass along to them the economic facts of life? Perhaps the biggest problem facing America now is the simple fact that too many kids are just growing up, and nobody is taking the time to raise them properly.

My teenage neighbor was visiting me a while back, and brought over a buddy of his from school. His friend was talking about his old dilapidated bicycle and how he just wanted to get another bike. He was hoping that the next time his dad visited from out of town, he could talk dad into buying him a new one.

I couldn't restrain myself. "You know," I said, "Spring is here, and I guarantee you could make yourself $100 a week if you just had three or four steady lawn-mowing customers. You could have that new bike in no time, and have plenty of spending money all summer long."

The kid looked at me like I was from Mars. "I don't cut grass," he said condescendingly.

I sincerely hope he is still walking around without a bicycle.

I can't help it, but I just can't respect people who think they are too good to get their hands dirty in some useful labor. Working, sweating, and getting grungy are great character building exercises. (In the interest of full disclosure, let me state here that I no longer cut my own grass, but pay to have it done, because I am getting old and tired and whatever character I have is already built. But I still work and get dirty at my day job, and I did cut plenty of grass when I was younger.)

It takes some "tough love" to refrain from granting a request, so that the person you are mentoring can learn the value of satisfying that desire through their own resourcefulness. When my #1 daughter (whose daddy loves her dearly) turned sweet sixteen, she came to me and said, "Well, dad, I'm sixteen, and I have my driver's license...all I need now is a car."

It pained me to see the look of dejection on her beautiful young face when I introduced her to the real world. "Honey," I said as gently as possible, "There is just one more thing you need before you get a car...and that's a job so you can pay for it."

She wasn't happy with me at the time, but she did get a job. Soon after that she bought a used car. She has worked ever since, and has been financially independent for many years now. Making her buy her own car was the best economics lesson I could have ever given her. (As an added bonus, it left an extra $3000 in dad's retirement fund.)

I have known otherwise intelligent adults, people who should have known better, who nonetheless bought their teenage daughter a brand new car. Ponder that with me for a moment...what could possibly go wrong with such a decision? I know what you're thinking, and you are right...the new car was totaled within four months. Because she didn't have anything invested in it, the young woman never really appreciated it.

When kids don't learn the value of labor; when they don't make the mental connection between effort and reward; when we don't teach them to be responsible and work for what they want, then we are conditioning them to become pawns in the Brave New World of the government welfare state. We are cheating them out of the opportunity to learn how the real world operates.

As adults, they will be inclined to carelessly vote for whomever promises them the cushiest smorgasbord of government handouts and benefits. They will not understand the damage being done to America's financial health when the government punishes production with taxes, and rewards indolence with benefits.

They will be happy to trade away their liberties for the promise of government care. It is happening already; just look at President Obama's push for socialized medicine. In his worldview, the solution to every problem is more government control, and growing numbers of Americans are jumping onto that bandwagon.

It may make for a pleasant fantasy to imagine that we could all kick back and let someone else take care of us. Let's put the government in charge of allocating resources so that everyone gets their fair share of prosperity. Let's allow Nanny Government to "spread the wealth around."

But at some point, as there are more people taking out of the pot, and fewer people putting in, the pot comes up empty, and there is no wealth left to be spread around. Then we will experience not just a severe recession, but a calamitous depression.

That is when another one of grandpa's favorite proverbs will again prove itself to be true: "There's no such thing as a free lunch."

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Soldiers I Have Known

I write this today, and you read this today, because hundreds of thousands of American soldiers, engaged in various battles that spanned over more than two centuries, fought and died for the cause of freedom.

I have had the privilege of knowing some of these men and women. They are regular, everyday working people, paying their bills and raising their families. They don't consider themselves special. They will, without exception, tell you that they were just doing their jobs during those times when they risked life and limb to accomplish some extraordinary mission.

I have known my wife's uncle Roy for over 35 years. A great guy, a retired automobile salesman, Roy (known to everyone as "Nick") has always been a fun guy to know. We get to see each other at least once a year at a Labor Day family reunion, and I have always enjoyed sharing some laughs with Nick. In all that time, I never knew he had been in the military.

Last summer, my wife and I were visiting at Nick's new home in Greenwood. He was gone at the time, and his wife, Aunt Marilyn, was giving us the nickle tour of their new place. Hanging from a wall in the hallway was a custom made plaque that Marilyn had given Nick. On one side was a black and white photo of a trim young Nick in a United States Marine uniform. On the other half of the plaque was a print of the famous WWII photo of the Marines raising the US flag atop Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima.

I mentioned to Marilyn that I had never known that Nick was in the Marines. "Oh yeah," she replied, "He was all over the Pacific back then. He went to Guam and Tarawa and Iwo Jima and a few other places." She mentioned it so casually, it almost sounded like a cruise itinerary.

I was astounded. How could I have known this man for all those years and have never heard about this?

"He doesn't talk about the war much," Marilyn said, "Except when he gets together with his old Marine buddies."

Guam...Tarawa...Iwo Jima...these were some of the toughest, ugliest battles in a tough and ugly war. Why would Nick ever talk about this except with people who could really understand? Only another soldier can empathize with those kinds of scarring memories.

About that time, Nick returned home, and I told him I wanted to thank him for all the sacrifices he had made for this country. He waved his hand dismissively and said, "We all just did what we had to do. Everybody made sacrifices." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I dropped it.

This incident with Nick occurred within a few months of me seeing the Clint Eastwood film about Iwo Jima, Flag of Our Fathers, and also the television debut on PBS of Ken Burns' WWII documentary, The War. Those images of the suffering of American soldiers were fresh in my memory, and I tried to envision what that frightening time must have been like for Nick and his fellow Marines.

I'm a life-long civilian who has never had to worry about anyone shooting at me. I cannot imagine the bravery of soldiers who take on the duty of going to war.

For lack of a better idea, I decided to write Nick a letter and express my appreciation. I hope I am not embarrassing him, but this is what I wrote:

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Dear Nick,

Ever since the day at your house when I found out you were a Marine in the Pacific during the war, I have been trying to think of some way to properly express my gratitude and admiration for what you and your fellow Marines have done for this country.

I cannot find the words.

I know you will say, “We were just doing our jobs.” And that is true, to some extent. The whole country was dragged into war after Pearl Harbor, and everybody made sacrifices.

But you Marines really did the heavy lifting, especially in the Pacific. I have read enough history to know that the campaigns you fought in were some of the toughest in the war. You guys were a bunch of kids rushed through boot camp and sent halfway around the world to engage an enemy that would fight to the death. I cannot imagine the hardships you suffered and the obstacles you overcame.

Over the past few years I have read and viewed a lot of material concerning WWII. Especially after seeing a movie like Flag of Our Fathers, I was just overwhelmed by the ferocity of the combat and the grueling conditions our troops endured. The whole Pacific campaign was a tough, dangerous job that had to be done, and you guys did it.

I have always liked you, Nick, and I am amazed that I could have known you for all these years and have never been aware that you were part of such an elite group. You are now officially added to my list of Top Ten Most Admired People.

This country owes you and all the other good men who served with you a tremendous debt of gratitude. Because of your generation’s perseverance and sacrifice, we are all free today, living in the greatest, most blessed nation in history.

Please allow me to say “Thank You” and “God Bless You” to you and all of the men you served with. You did what had to be done to defeat an evil empire that would have enslaved the world if it were possible.

I thank God every day that I live in America, and I thank him for people like you who sacrificed so much to keep us free. I am honored to know you.

God bless the Marines!
Dave Smith


About a month later, I opened my mailbox to find one of the nicest letters I have ever received. Nick had written back to thank me for my letter. I trust he will forgive me for sharing it, since his note speaks volumes about the attitude of the greatest generation:

Dear Dave,

I too, thank God I live in America. I do appreciate and thank you for your letter. It certainly means a lot to me to know there are still people who remember what sacrifices were made back then.

I consider myself fortunate to be related to just one person who is thoughtful enough to take time to write such a meaningful letter. It brought me to tears.

Thank you again for being so thoughtful and caring enough to write me.

Uncle Nick

What can you say about people like this? Uncle Nick and his generation have bequeathed to us blessings of liberty and prosperity that most of the world could never imagine. Everything we have in this country we owe to the goodness of God, and to the sacrifices of our military men and women.

If you know a vet, young or old, take time to thank them for their service. It is the very least that we can do, and it is the thing they will appreciate the most.

God bless all of you who have sacrificed so much to protect our freedoms. Thank you for doing your job.